“Be sure to make the Canyon Path before dusk,” warned Donald. “It’s bad there, you know. Signals all right? Better take my revolver. Malcolm has his.”
Virginia examined the revolver before securing the holster to her saddle.
“Two, if we need you; three, if everything’s all right. You probably won’t hear either. We’ll see you by six o’clock. Good luck!” 162
She turned Pedro, and, followed by Carver and Vivian, rode back up the trail, while the others kept on down the mountain side toward Sagebrush Point where they were to meet Malcolm and Aunt Nan.
They had ridden far up Bear Canyon, miles beyond the farthest bear-trap, to the Forest Ranger’s cabin. The trail was wilder than six of them had ever imagined a trail could be. Sometimes it was almost obliterated, but the blaze of the rangers with its U.S. brand told them that human beings had traversed it, and that they might safely follow. At noon they had reached the cabin—a lonely eyrie looking down into the gorge of the river. Behind it unbroken forests stretched for miles.
The ranger was away upon his beat, but his door stood hospitably open, and they had gladly entered, sure that a welcome was intended. In his little kitchen they had eaten dinner, leaving some of their bacon as a gift. Then an idea had seized Aunt Nan. Why not pick some of the raspberries which grew in profusion near by, and cook a quart of them as winter preserves for the ranger? It did not take 163 very long for nine pair of hands to pick three quarts instead of one, and within an hour, sugar having been found in the pantry, the berries were cooking on the little stove. Jars, too, were discovered, and at three o’clock when the boys had brought the horses, five cooks in khaki surveyed their gift with proud eyes. They had ridden hurriedly away, realizing that they were already late if they wanted Sagebrush Point for a camping-place; and three miles below the cabin Vivian had discovered the loss of her wrist-watch, a birthday gift from her father.
“Don’t you worry a bit, Vivian,” Virginia said, reassuringly, as she urged Pedro up the steep trail. “We’d just as soon ride back as not, and I wouldn’t have you lose the watch for the world. Of course the ranger would keep it safe for us, but there’s no knowing when we could get away up here again. It’s best to go now when we’re only three miles away.”
“I’m dead sure it’s right on the table,” said Carver. “I saw you put it there, Vivian, when you got ready to wash the dishes.” 164
Carver Standish was right. The watch was on the table where she had left it. The cabin seemed more lonely than ever as they hurried away. The rush of the river hundreds of feet below, the drowsy hum of the August insects, and the sound of their horses’ feet upon the stones alone broke the silence. Vivian shivered.
“I hate it here, now,” she said. “Let’s hurry back to the others.”