He was grateful that during the hike back along the ravine, they refrained from making remarks.
Reaching the turn-off by the granite boulder, Red again paused to survey the site.
“I think we went the wrong direction,” he said. “If we’d turned right instead of left, we’d have hit the place. Close by too.”
“No alibis,” chided Chips.
“Just give me five minutes more,” the boy pleaded. “That’s all I ask. Five minutes! If I can’t find the place by that time, then I’m willing to eat worms.”
“Five minutes?” repeated Mr. Hatfield, noting how rapidly darkness was falling upon the ravine. “I guess we can give you that much time, but no more.”
“Come on, then,” Red urged, leading off, almost at a dog trot. “We’re traveling fast this time.”
The Cubs were hard pressed to keep up. Sure of foot, Red skirted close to the edge of the steep cliffs.
“This is the right way, I’m certain!” he encouraged the others. “I think I remember that white birch!”
“You think!” Chips exploded as he caught his shoe on a sharp rock. “You better be sure.”