Resuming his thoughtful preoccupation, they tried to concentrate their vision also, but soon gave it up. Evidently, Uncle Jeb discerned nothing further either, as he arose and yawned sleepily. Putting the fire out they all turned in.
Now Westy, being the romantic and imaginative boy he was, lay rolled in his blankets, gazing fixedly at the stars overhead. The cool night wind caressed his face, as he pondered and turned over in his mind what Uncle Jeb had mentioned about no one around those parts who would dare venture up on the cliff. He suddenly remembered with a thrill the discovery he had made and forgotten about until now. There was no doubt about it, now that he came to think of it again. The day that Artie and he ascended that forbidden trail, the marks were perfectly plain.
Another person had traveled that trail, other than they.
CHAPTER XXXV—GHOSTS
How long he lay awake thinking about this, Westy did not know. In fact, he could not even remember having fallen asleep at all.
He found himself looking above again, wide-awake. In turning around to shift his position facing the lake, he became aware of a pinkish reflection in the sky, just beyond the Pass. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. This time he was sure of it, and saw that it was turning a deeper hue.
What, he thought, could it be? A forest fire? No! He measured the distance of the reflection with his eye, and knew that it wasn’t in the mountains. It came to him with a start that it was just about in the direction of the Inn.
Suddenly he arose, quietly, not wanting to arouse the sleepers, should it happen to prove a false alarm.
The capricious moon was now out in all her glory, gleaming down upon the lake and over the cliffs. Whether her purpose was intentional or not, she seemed deliberately to withhold from the narrow Pass even one stray little moonbeam.
Westy tiptoed away, and when he got at a safe margin, he started to run until he got around the lake. Up through the Pass he went, feeling his way securely. Then coming to a rock that would afford him a strong foothold, he clambered up and over the rough stones. There in the distance, sparks shooting into the sky like miniature rockets, was a seething mass of flame. It must be the Inn!