Gus beamed on the speaker. It could easily be seen that the boy’s heart was in the task that had been committed to his hands by the one he loved so dearly. Hugh only hoped circumstances would be such that Gus could go back home bearing some good news for the suffering mother of Sam Merrivale.
“It’s a good thing we’ve got this comfortable camp, let me tell you, boys,” Billy was saying later on, as he listened to the rising wind sighing around the corners of the log bunk-house. “Unless all signs fail, there’s going to be something of a storm coming this way before another sunset.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, Billy,” agreed Arthur, “because it’s warm for the time of year. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a regular whooper out of that quarter, with the trees going down all around us like they did two years ago.”
CHAPTER IV.
THE COMING OF THE STORM.
Perhaps it was rather thoughtless of Billy to make such a remark as that. Gus immediately commenced feeling blue again.
“Oh, I hope that isn’t going to happen!” he remarked, while helping the stout boy get supper ready.
“Why, bless your innocent heart, Gus,” said Billy, patronizingly, “no storm that ever blew could hurt us here in these snug quarters, don’t you know?”
“But I wasn’t thinking so much of our getting injured as something else,” remonstrated the other, quickly.
“You mean about that trail, don’t you, Gus?” asked Hugh, who happened to overhear this little talk between the chefs.
“That’s just it, Hugh!” cried Gus. “I’m afraid that if it starts to raining real hard, or snowing, either, for that matter, we can never follow it any further. That would be too bad, you know.”