“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Chot. “Let’s do it ourselves! We can easy lift the gates and close the others!”
Rick was half tempted. It would be a fine thing to boast of—to have discovered the secret of Lost River and to have turned the water back where it belonged. But there were other things to think of. True there was little law out in this part of the west, but there might be enough to uphold the men in what they had done to divert the stream. It was better to let older heads settle this point.
“No, well go tell Uncle Tod,” decided Rick.
Chot whistled dismally.
“It’s a long hike back there,” he said.
“We won’t start until morning,” decided Rick. “We’ll camp here until then. We have our blankets.”
Even though they were Boy Scouts, and accustomed to sleeping in the open with not much more than a blanket, it cannot be said that the boys passed a very comfortable night. It was unusually cold in the mountains. But Ruddy snuggled down with them and they managed to get a little sleep.
They made a slim breakfast, gave one look at the construction of the dam and water gates so that they could report the plan of it to Uncle Tod, and then started back, going a roundabout way to escape the camp.
This necessitated proceeding “overland” so to speak, instead of through the tunnel, and was longer, but they had the advantage of daylight and really made better time.
“Well, where in the name of the great horned toad have you boys been?” greeted Uncle Tod as they entered the camp and found two rather worried men to welcome them.