Sandy addressed his next question to Hank. “Those dogs of yours—they track lions by scent, don’t they?”
Hank granted that was so.
“If we give them some of Joe’s clothing to sniff,” Sandy went on, “wouldn’t they follow his scent?”
“Like bloodhounds!” Mike cried.
“Exactly. What about it?”
“It might work,” Hank said slowly. “It’s certainly worth a try.”
“I’ll go and get an old shirt of Joe’s,” Mike said, turning toward the lodge.
“Hang on a minute,” Mr. Cook ordered. “Let’s not rush out right away. If we start tracking Joe, it might take some time. Overnight maybe. I suggest we pack some supplies, get a good meal inside ourselves and then go.”
Mike grinned over at his father. “Now that,” he said enthusiastically, “sounds like a first-rate idea—particularly the part about food.”
“I thought you’d appreciate it,” Mr. Cook said dryly.