“Regrets won’t mend matters,” interrupted Mr. Mackworth soberly. “‘Grizzly,’” he added, “you know the country best. Isn’t there a trail from here through the woods to the hill?”
“A plain one,” was Hosmer’s response.
“Well, you start at once with an extra horse and hurry to Hog Back Cut. You can probably get there before the boy does, as he has four miles to cover in that valley over there. Bring him home by the trail.”
In a few minutes Hosmer had saddled and was off. Both Sam Skinner and Frank wanted to join him but Mr. Mackworth thought the guide would travel quicker alone. Frank made a perfunctory examination of the camp and then remembered his fish.
The moment Mr. Mackworth saw them he demanded a detailed story of the fishing experience.
“To-morrow,” said Mr. Mackworth at last, “we go trout fishing. And, if we have luck like this, I think we’ll stop here a few days. It’s the finest string of fish I ever saw.”
“Give me one of these boys,” exclaimed Captain Ludington, taking Phil’s 3¼ pound fish up to admire it once more, “and I won’t care very much whether I get a sheep or not.”
It was too late for Jake to bake the fish that night but they were prepared and salted for breakfast. The evening meal was a wonder as a camp product but no great hilarity accompanied it. And when it was over and the men had gone to their pipes and cigars Frank sat apart, far from cheerful, straining his ears for returning hoof beats. Eight o’clock and nine o’clock went by. Mr. Mackworth had long since begun to show anxiety. Nor did Captain Ludington and Lord Pelton conceal their solicitude. Jake kept his cook fire blazing brightly as a guide to the returning wanderers.
At ten o’clock, the anxious and silent party were suddenly stirred by the sound of a distant shot and then, on the edge of the forest bordering the meadow, Frank caught the flash of a light. Followed closely by Skinner he ran in the direction of the sound and light.