“No,” Lola said. “We haven’t seen him at all. Where do you think he is?”
“I wish I was sure—but then he wouldn’t if he did go up there——”
“You mean all his talk of yesterday, don’t you? I wouldn’t worry about that a bit, Westy. He wouldn’t dare go in after all I told him. He’s just a little peeved because you didn’t urge him. Go on up—you’ll find him ready to make up, I guess!”
Westy started on a dog trot and as he disappeared through the trees he called back to her excitedly: “If he did go in anyway, do you think he’d have any chance——”
She couldn’t hear the rest he said for his words were lost in the distance.
CHAPTER XXII—TO THE RESCUE
Westy wasn’t as optimistic as Lola. Stumbling over tree stumps and through underbrush, he continually berated himself for having wasted so much valuable time in talking.
Here and there he could see Rip’s tracks in the soft damp earth. The ground must always be damp around there, he thought, for it hadn’t rained in the mountains since they arrived four days ago.
In some places through the forest, on the way to the lake, twilight was perpetual, the trees being so thickly clustered that the sunlight was forever barred from penetrating through.
“If I had thought for a minute,” Westy said aloud, “that he would really go up there, I’d have told Mr. Wilde this morning. He’s one stubborn kid, I’ll say. Maybe, though, he’ll only go up there and sit around long enough to make me think he carried out his threat. I suppose he’ll be hopping mad when I catch him stalling for time.”