“Dunno,” he replied, “I warned them not ter go, I know that! Thar’s been a little landslide here since I passed and thet would cover up the tracks—if thar wuz any.”
Mr. Temple looked and found that parts of the trail were indeed covered with sand and rock. Becoming alarmed he turned to Uncle Jeb searchingly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Temple,” he said. “Yuh kin go up if yer want to, but I’m a-thinkin’ yuh won’t find nuthin.”
However, Uncle Jeb led the way up the trail and, needless to say, they searched, they shouted and in a frenzy Mr. Temple rushed to a trail that ran back of the cliff, but to his distraction soon realized that it became impassable after a few feet and finally obliterated itself in the impenetrable fastnesses of the deep mountain forest.
“And so your father went on to Mr. Rushmore’s cabin,” said Mrs. Temple.
“Didn’t he look in the hollow?” Mary breathlessly asked.
“Oh, yes, my dear.”
“Did he succeed with Mr. Ezra Knapp then?”
“No, it was all futile.”
“Why so, Mother?”