Before descending, Tom examined the land above the rocks and found that the trail, such as it was, continued on up the mountain. As I glanced up there it seemed to me quite incredible that any one could ascend to the summit. Surely, I thought, the trail could not be continuous and must encounter many obstacles. But Tom argued that the footprint at the rocks proved that our mysterious visitor had descended the mountain, since there was no evidence of any one having camped in the little rocky shelter. He was all for action and resolved to follow the trail to the very summit, if that were possible, the next day.
How to do this without the others of our party knowing about it was a question. Tom thought it would seem less significant if he went alone, and his determination to do this was the more easily reached because of the rather poor opinion he held of Brent and me as scouts.
“That’s the only thing to do,” he said, as we made our way back to camp. “There’s no use wasting time in guesswork, and I can’t sit around, or even work, knowing that there’s maybe somebody lurking around the place. Somebody came down that trail or the footprint wouldn’t be there on the mountain, that’s sure. I’m going to find out where the blamed thing leads to.” He seemed full of resolve, restive for action, and rattled on in his hearty, vigorous way as we picked our path down the mountainside.
“I don’t want either of you to go along,” he exclaimed. “It isn’t necessary and the boys will only wonder what we’re up to. I’m going to start out to-morrow at daylight; I always wanted to get to the top of the mountain anyway. Now if anybody asks any questions about me just let them think I went to Harkness on foot; you can sidestep questions all right. Probably that’s what they’ll think anyway, because they know the flivver doesn’t work half the time. When I come down to-morrow afternoon, I may have something to tell you. If somebody came down the mountain I ought to be able to go up. I’ll punch a hole in this blamed mystery and be done with it. The plaguy thing’s getting on my nerves.”
CHAPTER XX—SUSPENSE
Tom had gone when we arose in the morning and there were no questions asked. He often went to Harkness and sometimes to the sawmill at Rogers Gap and was gone all day, so there was nothing remarkable about his absence. I dare say no one even knew that he had not gone in the flivver.
In the light of subsequent happenings how vividly I recall that day! The early morning was cold and the roofs of the cabins covered with frost. But soon the sun dispelled this chilliness and the air was filled with the balmy fragrance of spring. We had a pretty good illustration of the effects of long and heavy rains on the mountain lakes of that region, and I was impressed with Tom’s wisdom in not building any cabins too near the shore. Every little gully on our camp land was a running stream, and every depression a miniature pond. There was one place where it was clear that every storm would transform a certain irregular hollow (which we had not even noticed) into a broad and rushing torrent. So Brent and Tim and I spent the day in throwing up a couple of rustic bridges at convenient spots across the course of this occasional outlet.
At suppertime Tom had not returned and Brent and I thought he must have made a discovery. Nothing in particular was said about his absence. We played cards with the boys for a while and then they went to their cabin. Brent and I sat up till midnight, puzzled and a trifle concerned. Still I cannot say that we were greatly worried, Tom was so thoroughly at home in the woods. I did think it possible that he might have got lost in the darkness on that wild mountain. Acting on this thought we hung a lantern in the window and I fixed a sheet of shiny tin (such as is used to lay beneath shingles in certain parts of a roof) behind it so as to throw the glare toward the mountain. “He ought to be able to see that from any part of the slope,” I said. Then, comforting ourselves with the thought that this belated beacon would guide him, we went to bed for we were very sleepy.
I must have been dozing when I thought I heard him tiptoeing on the balcony and I slept the better for that assurance that he had returned. But in the morning we found him still absent and we were greatly perplexed. Here was something added to the mystery of that uncanny place. The lantern, still burning in the window, seemed to emphasize the strange non-appearance of our comrade. It was still very early, for Brent had aroused me at dawn, and as he lifted down the lantern with its makeshift reflector, it cast a glow upon the footprint in the cement hearth. For just a moment this stood out in bold relief in the surrounding gray of early morning.
“What had we better do?” I asked. “For my part, I can’t go to work with Tom absent like this. Should we arouse the boys and tell them? Surely something is wrong; he wouldn’t have stayed up there all night unless something had happened.”