“Yes, I guess after all we must be lost!” the stout scout began to admit to himself forlornly; and, indeed, it looked rather serious.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE TRAIL TO THE TRESTLE
“It’s certainly queer where that trail can be,” Rob himself was saying. On hearing this Tubby’s heart took on an additional flutter, for he seemed to think things must be pretty serious when experienced Rob, who seldom allowed himself to show the least sign of discouragement, should speak in this strain.
“We hae already come twicet as far as I thought wud be necessary,” admitted Donald, “and naething yet o’ the pesky thing.”
“I’m dead sure we haven’t passed over it,” added the scout master. “While one pair of eyes might have failed two could hardly have been deceived. There’s only one explanation that I can think of.”
“Oh! what’s that, Rob?” hastily asked Tubby, making a great effort to keep that miserable tremor from affecting his voice, though he felt that he just had to say something.
“The trail must have taken a sudden bend just about that big hemlock,” Rob explained. “You’ve been over it so many times, Donald, I should think you might remember whether it does.”
“It’s verra curious,” spoke up Donald reflectively, “but I gie ye my word I was thinkin’ the same thing this minute. I am beginning to believe that it does the thing, ye ken. If that be so, then a’ we hae to do is to keep on goin’ till we fetch up once mair on the trail.”
“Well, let’s make an agreement,” said Rob. “We’ll keep along for five minutes, and if nothing shows up it would be better for us to abandon all hope of running across the path. Then we will have to shape our course as best we may, with both you and Zeb here to figure things out. There’s no doubt about our hitting the railway embankment somehow.”
“It is unco’ kind o’ ye to say that, Rab!” declared the Canadian lad, who blessed the lucky chance that had raised up such devoted and loyal friends as these cousins from over the border, when he was more in need of help than ever before in all his young life.