Danny turned and faced him.
"Nothing that makes any difference," he said.
It was generous in him not to "peach," and so Biddie Burton's friendly glance assured him.
The incident passed with that, for McKenzie was full of something repressed, and, seeing it, the boys gathered close about him in eager questioning—all except Danny.
All except Danny! His brief career—his career that only an hour ago had promised so much—had ended, and in disgrace. He had taken a dare! Nothing would ever matter to him again—Danny told his aching heart—the boys despised him, all except Biddie Burton, and, somehow, Biddie's pity was harder to bear than despite.
"I went to the gap and wired Mr. Gordon," McKenzie was saying now, "and he told me I could put you to it at once. He's had an accident to his car and may not get here for some time."
"What's up?" It was Roger who asked the question.
"Something serious," answered McKenzie, "but Mr. Gordon didn't say what. Have you had supper?"
They replied in concert, eager to receive orders.
"Well," continued McKenzie, "we've got to cover the mountain here, for signs of—anything unusual. You'll have to be careful not to run into trouble yourselves, but you must know your ground. There'll be a good moon if the clouds break."