“Me savvy spling,” nodded Woo.
“Lead us to it. Is it far from here?”
The guide answered with a shake of his head.
An hour later, no water being yet in sight, Grace called a halt.
“Woo, I do not believe you savvy any spring at all,” she said. “I think we should camp right where we are. It will soon be dark, and if we keep on going we shall undoubtedly be worse off than if we remain where we are. Smith, have you lost the trail?” she demanded.
Woo did not reply at once, but gazed up at the tops of the trees, muttering to himself.
“You’re lost! That’s what’s the matter,” grinned Stacy.
“Woo no lost. Tlail him lost. Me savvy tlail lost,” chuckled the Chinaman.
“I thought so,” agreed Hippy gravely. “There being no objection, I second Grace’s motion that we camp here.”
“While you are making camp I will go out and prospect for water,” offered Tom, wheeling his pony about and riding off into the forest. Tom, being a forester by profession, an experienced woodsman, they felt no concern over his departure, but, as the hours following his departure wore on and Tom Gray did not return, the Overlanders began to worry.