Westy explained to them that time had been at a premium and so that part of the matter was dropped.
It seemed to them all that the greatest sympathy they could give to the unfortunate girl and her grandmother was silence.
Mr. Wilde suggested that nothing more be said until morning, and they could make more plans then. They gave up the shack to the women and put up their tents outside. It was almost dawn when they settled down for a few winks.
When they awoke the sun was flooding their tents with a warm yellow light. As Westy and Rip were dressing Mr. Wilde came in.
“We’ve got to leave here to-day, kids,” he said, “much as I hate to, but I was thinking we could leave all our camping stuff. These people will need it and all the food we have. We won’t need it again anyway in Santa Fe.”
“But what are they going to do?” Westy asked. “I could tell last night they’re about down to brass tacks.”
“That’s what I came in to tell you,” he continued. “I’m going to see to it that they get a supply of food, but in the meantime a little investigating is going to be done. Lola’s just promised to give me those identification papers when we go. May not even have to use them, but it’s best to have them in case they’re needed. She told me all that Old Scout had said about it was true.”
Westy was keyed up to a high pitch of interest now.
“Now,” Mr. Wilde said seriously and at the same time wriggled the cigar over to the other side of his mouth, “you, Westy, have your little part to play in this, and if you fail I think some legal steps can be taken.”
“Oh, boy, that’s my middle name!” Westy was enthusiastic. “Where does my part come in?”