“That means,” Mike went on, “that he’s up there somewhere in the mountains.”
“With the chances very good,” Sandy said, “of his being in trouble.”
There was a pause as the four of them stared thoughtfully at the jagged range of peaks that towered above them. The rain had tapered off and a weak sun was struggling to break through the clouds.
“Yes, you may be right,” Mr. Cook agreed. “But I’m afraid we can’t do much. No sense in stumbling around without knowing where we’re going.”
“Would you help him if you could?” Sandy asked eagerly.
“Yes, I would,” Mr. Cook said with conviction. “I like Joe and if there’s anything dishonest going on, I’m positive Joe’s not mixed up in it.”
“All right, then,” Sandy said unexpectedly. “Let’s go.”
They stared at him in astonishment. “Where?” Mr. Cook said. “Where do we start?”
“You said Joe left his things?”
“That’s right.”