A suspicion for the first time dawned upon him that startled and alarmed him. He made a hurried examination of the ground around him, for he knew that it was possible that the pocketbook had slipped out of his pocket.
But his search was fruitless. The pocketbook was nowhere to be seen.
Was it possible, he asked himself, that he had been robbed? Was Ben capable of such black treachery?
The thought that his companion had proved false disturbed him more at first than the sense of his loss, but he began almost immediately to realize his predicament.
Probably he was a hundred miles away from the ranch of his friend Giles Packard. Not only this, but he was without money and without provisions, except the small supply of food which remained over from his frugal breakfast.
Then, again, he was without a boat, for the skiff had been carried away by Ben. He was alone in a wilderness.
There were very few houses within the distance over which they had traveled. If he had been in any portion of the Eastern States, among settlements and villages, he would not have minded his destitute condition—that is, not so much. He would have felt sure of getting along somehow. But as it was, there was no one to appeal to. There was no one to lend him a helping hand.
If only Ben had left him the boat, matters would not have been so bad. He would, of course, have instantly started on his return. He didn't feel at all tempted to explore farther. The fine mountain scenery which he had enjoyed yesterday had no attraction for him now.
"I'd give fifty dollars—if I had it"—he added, as the thought came to him that he had no money whatever, "to be back with Giles Packard on his ranch. Shall I ever see him again, or am I doomed to starve to death in this wilderness?"