As the ranger had foretold, the forest guards did indeed pull foot early in the morning. Black darkness still enfolded the camp when the ranger awoke his young companions. Fire was speedily kindled and breakfast gotten under way.
"Better eat your meat, boys," suggested the ranger. "Otherwise it will keep that cat hanging around here. We'll hardly dare to leave the pup behind again, and that beast might get in here and tear your tent to pieces. These cats play hob with things sometimes."
Lew decided that he would carry nothing back with him, as he contemplated visiting his chum at intervals.
"Just take your rifle," said the ranger to Charley. "You'll be all alone on your return trip and with two such animals as we've seen hereabout, it will be just as well to have it. If I were you, I believe I'd make a pretty close companion of it and always keep it within reach."
When they left the camp, they were burdened only with Charley's rifle and food for the noon meal, which they stowed in their pockets. The instant there was light enough to guide their footsteps, the trio set forth.
For hours they trudged through the forest, for the most part in silence. Although they traveled by a circuitous route, and with eyes and ears alert, they neither saw nor heard anything that pointed to the presence of other human beings in the forest. The ground bore no telltale footprints. No incriminating marks were discernible on the trees. Smoke was nowhere visible. No firearm disturbed the silence of the wilderness. No birds flew upward with cries of alarm, save at their own approach. And the only voices that were audible were the voices of the brooks.
Under other circumstances Charley would have been supremely happy. The sun came up bright and clear. No veil of mist floated before the face of the sky. But woolly, white cloud banks sailed lazily aloft, intensifying by contrast the blue of the sky. A gentle wind blew fitfully. The earth steamed fragrantly, sending up an odor joyful to the nostrils. And the little brooks babbled wildly in their joy at the spring-time.
But Charley was not in a responsive mood. The thought of the man Collins and his evil-favored companion weighed upon him heavily. Nor was the knowledge that a wildcat was prowling about his camp reassuring; though Charley was far from being afraid of the beast. And always the dread of fire was in the background of his consciousness. What troubled him more than anything else just now was the approaching loss of his chum. Could Charley have diagnosed correctly the feelings that oppressed him now, he would have known that it was the fear of loneliness more than any fear of Bill Collins or wildcats or forest fires, that made him sad. To read about Robinson Crusoe was all right, but to be Robinson Crusoe was quite a different matter--at least a Crusoe without a good man Friday. And Charley was too downcast at present to realize that the pup at his heels could be to him all that Friday was to his master, and perhaps more.
Again and again Charley turned over in his mind the problem of how he could get the battery he needed. More than ever he felt that he absolutely must have it. Such a battery would cost many, many dollars. To be sure, Charley's salary would soon bring him in enough money to pay for such a battery; but all of his income, or practically all of it, Charley knew, he must give to his father. How he should get around the difficulty, Charley could not see.
As they trudged on, he talked the matter over with Lew again. Lew seemed unduly light-hearted over the matter, and even smiled about it. Instead of sympathizing with his chum, he counseled him not to worry about it, as the way would likely open. That seemed so heartless that Charley was hurt. He thought that his chum, about to leave the forest himself, no longer was concerned. So he fell silent, and walked along in greater dejection than ever.