Jack estimated the distance to the camp below as not more than three-quarters of a mile. He knew he could make it easily going down, but the climb back would consume time and energy. Still, he might be lucky enough to recover High Hat, and at the same time pick up important information.
War, Willie, Ken and Mr. Livingston were sleeping snugly in their warm bags. No need to awaken them, he decided. They’d need their energy later for the day’s journey. Better to go quickly, and get back before breakfast was ready.
His mind made up, Jack scribbled a note and swung off down the mountainside. A mist hung over the valley, blocking his view of the snow-capped peaks above.
Boulders and stones littered the path, such as it was, delaying him more than he had expected. When finally he approached the camp below, there was no one about. The fire had been put out and the campers had departed.
Disgusted that his trip had been a waste of time, Jack nevertheless looked carefully about. He noted evidence that four or five men had slept there during the night. Footprints clearly showed the direction in which the party had gone.
“This must have been Captain Carter’s camp,” Jack reflected. “Furthermore, he’s taking our same route. Only he probably figures on getting out ahead of us.”
Unable to find any trace of High Hat, the Scout retraced his way. It was hard going, and when he finally reached camp, his heart was pounding from too fast a climb.
The other Scouts had delayed breakfast because of his absence.
“Hey! What was the idea of wandering off?” Willie greeted him. “You gave us a bad scare.”
“Didn’t you get my note?”