“I quite agree with you. Not one of us is a Sherlock Holmes or an expert from Scotland Yard. We’re out of our natural element.”
“Just the same,” Dick’s enthusiasm was contagious, “we’ll have lots of fun in trying to figure it all out.”
“What we do about Creel?” Toma wanted to know.
In their interest in the new development, Dick and Sandy had completely forgotten about the old recluse until thus reminded. Where had he gone, and what was his purpose in going?
“No use in trying to do anything more about him tonight,” Dick came to the obvious conclusion. “It would be foolish to start out now to look for him. We don’t know which way he has gone.”
“Perfectly true,” said Sandy. “He has given us the slip and, even in broad daylight, we’ll probably have plenty of trouble in picking up his trail. We’ve been careless. I dread to think of what Corporal Rand will say, when he hears the news.”
Dick righted an overturned bench and sat down upon it.
“Let’s rest here for a moment and then go back to the road-house.”
Toma, who had been carrying the candle about in his hand, moved forward and placed it upon the table. Sandy drew up a chair. A short silence ensued. Outside they could hear the plaintive whispering of the pines, the rustling of leaves near the open window.
Suddenly, Sandy sat up very straight on the bench, then leaned forward eagerly, his merry blue eyes now serious.