"We must get there at once," said Alan. He gestured toward Lentz. He whispered: "That fellow—I may be wrong, but I don't trust him."
We could not agree on where we were, or which way might be the tower.
"Oh, Lentz!" He came closer to us. Alan whispered: "Which way would you say?"
The patch of starlight overhead was too small to help us. I suggested: "I'll climb one of these trees. If I can see the camp fire at Turber's—"
But it would take too long. By now there was undoubtedly a Turber party of Indians in these woods searching for us. They might cut us off from the tower, or locate the tower itself.
"I think," said Lentz, "this way."
To me it seemed that he was right.
"But that's south," said Alan.
I did not think so. Lentz said: "I led you wrong before—it was my mistake. But I am sure now."
His frankness convinced us. We started. Lentz was leading; Alan and I guided Nanette. Slow, careful going. We made as little noise as we could. We came to a slight rise of ground. A distant gleam of water showed ahead of us.