At first there was no answer. “What do you say, girls?” Isabelle asked.
“I’ll take a chance,” was Gale’s prompt reply.
“Chances. That’s all I take all my life,” Than Shwe said, laughing.
They drove on.
At a point where something like a cross between a road and a path came out into the main highway, Pete stopped.
“This is as far as I go,” Pete announced. “The big show passes here. There’s the trunk of a huge dead tree just back of those bushes. You can see it all right from there. I’ve a notion that you can find your way back to camp by this trail.”
“But you’re not dead sure?” Isabelle teased.
“That’s right. I’m not,” Pete agreed. “In this man’s war you have to take chances.”
They piled out. Pete turned his jeep about and sped away. Like three night birds they perched themselves on the fallen giant of the forest, wrapped their jackets about them to keep out the chill mountain air, then settled down to wait.
“This may be just one of Pete’s pranks,” Isabelle announced. “He was full of tricks in high school,—kept us out in the grass hunting snipe with a gunny-sack and a dishpan and a lantern for two hours once.”