“But I feel like a fool sitting here and doing nothing.”
“Go out and hunt for some more rabbits,” suggested Dick. “You don’t need to bother about me. I feel that I am perfectly safe here now. I have a lot of confidence in Toma and the plan he and you so cleverly worked out. Why don’t you go, Sandy?”
Sandy opened his clasp-knife and commenced to whittle on a stick.
“I would, only I hate to leave you here alone. It would be pretty lonesome for you just sitting or lying here with nothing to occupy your mind.”
“I have plenty of things to think about,” Dick replied. “So don’t let that worry you. Why don’t you go?” he repeated.
“If I do go, it won’t be on a hunting trip.”
“Why?”
Sandy threw down the stick and put away his hunting knife. He rose to his feet.
“Do you know, Dick, I keep thinking about that man out there—the one who was hurt. Do you suppose that—that something has happened to him?”
“I’ve been thinking about him too,” Dick confessed. “It’s terrible, isn’t it, Sandy?” He paused as he drew himself to a more upright position. “But I imagine,” he continued hopelessly, “that he’s beyond help now. Toma said that he wouldn’t go very far.”