For a moment the two boys were silent. Then Curlie spoke again:
“Might not be that at all. I listened in on a message last night. It was from Munson, the explorer. It was not broken in upon as his others have been. There may have been something in that message which caused the outlaw to turn back.”
“Well, anyway,” he exclaimed, “whatever the cause is, we’ll go out and after them the first thing after dawn. Is everything all right; sled fixed and dogs doctored up?”
“Everything’s fine as silk.”
“All right then, let’s have some chow. After that we’ll turn in. Luck doesn’t go with any one person forever. Why, even to-morrow we might catch up with our outlaw friend.”
“Hardly that,” smiled Joe. “We’ve got forty or fifty miles of unbroken trail to make before we really get on the scent at all. By that time, traveling on a hard-packed trail as he is, he’ll have a big lead on us. There are probably forks and crosses in the trail a hundred miles or so farther on, so we’ve got a real task ahead of us. We’ll have to be sly as foxes to catch him now.”
“I suppose that’s so,” Curlie sighed, “but we’ll get him, see if we don’t.”
“Say!” exclaimed Joe suddenly, “who is this whispering friend of yours anyway?”
“Don’t know,” said Curlie, scratching his head.
“Ever seen her?”