“I guess I’m a bit steadier, now,” laughed Oliver Dixon, presently. “Now, what do you want to do, Tremaine? I’m with you for whatever you say.”
“Why, we can’t both leave the house. Will you watch here while I go into the woods where you met with your adventure?”
“Are you going alone?” demanded the younger man, as though a good deal astonished.
“Why, yes; certainly.”
“Don’t you think it foolhardy?”
“Well, you got out alive, didn’t you?” questioned Henry Tremaine, with a quizzical smile. “I’ll hope for at least just as good luck.”
“Shan’t I call the boys, and have at least one of them go with you? Or else, leave them on guard here, while I go with you?”
“It isn’t necessary,” decided the owner of the bungalow, promptly. “The boys need some sleep to-night. Let them sleep. You stay here and I’ll try to pick up your route through the woods. Now, describe to me, as well as you can, where you went.”
This Dixon either did, or pretended to do.