And Paul was more than glad it turned out so well. Had a tragedy come to pass, their joyous outing must have met with a sudden halt, and the return journey to Stanhope would have been a sad one indeed.
"What's the programme for to-day?" asked Jack, as they all sat around, eating the fine breakfast the patrol cooks had served.
"Another hike, and this time up the mountain," returned Paul. "It will be our last for a while, at least, for when we get settled in another camp I hope to stay there until our scoutmaster arrives."
"And when do you look for Mr. Gordon, Paul?" queried Wallace, who seemed to have lost his appetite after seeing how near a companion had come to a terrible death.
"Any hour after this. He said he would use my wheel in coming up here, so as to make better time. I'll be glad when he comes," and Paul gave a sigh as he glanced around at the score of
boyish faces turned toward him; to let his gaze rest finally on that of genial Tom Betts, whom he had known pretty much all his life.
Nor indeed could Paul be blamed for wishing to pass the responsibility on to broader shoulders, more capable of bearing it. He was only a boy, and it seemed to him that since he had been placed in charge of this expedition, with all its attendant cares and trials, his spirit had been almost crushed.
But the camp was broken, and with much laughter the scouts began to climb the side of mysterious old Rattlesnake Mountain, of course Paul managed to forget most of his troubles, and his merriment rang out as loud as that of any other.
So, boosting and pulling at old Dobbin, they made the ascent by slow degrees, and by noon had reached a point that afforded them a grand view of the country away off toward the south, the east and the west; but it was toward the first named region that many a wishful look was given, for did not Stanhope lie yonder—and home?