Red, next on Dan’s list, begged off because he had the start of a cold. In the end it was Chips who agreed to go with him.
From the start, however, the vigil bored Chips. He disliked staying out of sight in the bushes near the old logging road exit, and he fretted at inactivity.
“You stay here and keep watch,” he directed Dan. “I think I’ll wander around and look for different types of leaves to press and mount in a scrapbook.”
“Nothing doing,” Dan promptly vetoed the idea. “We stick together.”
“But I’m tired of hunching under these hot, bug-eaten bushes! No one’s come here in broad daylight and you know it!”
“We don’t know when that station wagon may return, Chips. We’ve got to develop patience.”
“You and your preachy talk! It won’t do any harm to move around a little. My legs are getting cramped.”
“Mr. Hatfield said we’d defeat our purpose if we walk around and leave a lot of footprints. Especially when the ground is soft.”
“I’ll start sprouting roots if I sit here any longer,” Chips complained. He slapped angrily at a mosquito which buzzed around his head. “How long are we supposed to stay here?”
“I’m sticking until relieved. If you’re soft and want to pull out, go ahead.”