“We’re not far from our camp, Brad. I’m sure of the way.”
“Okay then, lead off. The important thing is to get back as fast as we can. Old Miquel’s life may depend upon it.”
Confidently, Red started off, circling behind the beach into a dense forest of towering trees.
At first the going was quite easy, but as they moved farther and farther from the water front, the underbrush became more difficult. Soon they encountered a swampy area which slowed them down.
“Say, we’re not making any time this way,” Brad protested, wading through a boggy place. “Let’s strike back toward the beach.”
“The going will be easier as soon as we’re through this,” Red insisted. “I remember. Even though it’s hard going for a little while, we’ll save time.”
Brad had his own opinion. However, realizing that it was too late to turn back now without losing more precious minutes, he kept silent. He blamed himself severely for having listened to Red. From past experience he should have known that the younger boy’s enthusiasm often carried him away.
The swampy area behind them, the Cubs looked in vain for a marked trail.
“We should have hit it right here,” Red declared, deeply troubled. “Well, it can’t be too far ahead.”
“You’re not losing your way, are you?” Brad demanded. “Dan’s back there in the cave, waiting and—”