“Oh, don’t listen to him, Lola! He says more than his prayers!” Westy assured her.
“I do, do I?” Rip was plainly aroused.
“Sure!”
“Well, what would you say if I told you I was going in that lake for a darn good swim to-morrow?”
“I’d say you were just a poor nut, and that if you did, it’d be your own funeral!”
CHAPTER XX—SHADOWS OF DOUBT
On the way home it was pretty plain that Rip was peeved at Westy. He said nothing to either of them and when they left Lola at her cabin he said goodnight with the rest, but didn’t speak again the rest of the way to their own little shack. There seemed to be a tacit understanding between them, too, that nothing but silence should prevail.
Mr. Wilde and Billy were dog-tired after a long strenuous day, and they were too engrossed in their own affairs to notice anything amiss with the boys. So Westy decided not to mention anything of the haunted cliff and lake that evening.
Rip immediately went to his bunk and pretty soon they all followed suit. As Westy lay in his bunk thinking of his comrade’s foolish statement, he heard the cries of a wildcat not far off. Then an owl hooted dismally in the distance and soon he felt the warm delicious drowsiness of sleep enveloping him like a cloak, protecting his senses from the disturbing night noises.
When he arose in the morning everyone was up and about. In fact, the faithful Billy and Mr. Wilde bore all the evidences of readiness for departure.