As it turned out, they might have found a trace of him had they searched more thoroughly, for the following day, Ross, diving into the pocket of his slicker for some nails that he carried there, came on a folded note pinned in the bottom of the pocket.
BESIDE THE DYNAMITE BOX
"All I understand from your letter," ran the note, "is that it has given me a chance to make my getaway. It was a mighty white thing of you to do, and I appreciate it, though I know I haven’t acted that way. You’ve probably found out what my name is by this time. I didn’t tell you, because I was so dead ashamed about the whole matter that I hated to face myself and disgrace the name. But I never thought father would do such a thing as he has, and so I shall clear out and stay cleared until he has stopped hunting. I know where I’m going, and you’ll see me in Meadow Creek after father goes back and has given me up.–Leslie Jones Quinn."
Ross, standing on the dump beside the dynamite box, a hammer in one hand, read the letter. At once all his remaining resentment against Leslie disappeared. "I guess I would have done the same about the name in his place," he concluded.
Pinning the note in his pocket again for safe keeping he repaired the dynamite box. Then he entered the tunnel, where Weimer was once more at work drilling for a blast.
"Uncle Jake," he asked, "when did Leslie leave, what time in the day?"
"It vas not day, it vas night," growled Weimer wrestling with the drill. "He vent avay mit darkness."
"That accounts," said Ross, "for his not having been seen in camp."