“We’ve got a rifle with a full magazine,” Tom said stoutly. “That will protect us and give us food until we get out—and we’ve got the lighter of Bill’s to make a fire to cook it on. We’re not so badly off.”
“If we get excited and start planning and running around,” Cliff suggested, “we will wear ourselves out and get nowhere. Let’s sit here in this open glade and think. When anybody has an idea that is good sense, we can try it.”
“I see what looks like a trail yonder,” Tom had used his eyes and he pointed to the near end of the glade. “Let’s try it a ways—it ought to lead toward the river.”
“Which way?” asked Nicky. “From that end of the glade or this end?”
“That’s so—it is at both sides,” conceded Tom. “Let’s try one way for an hour and see what we see!”
At the end of that time by Nicky’s wrist watch they retraced their way—and when darkness came on, they were still on the other trail, and weary and excited; but no sight of the river rewarded their eager gaze, no sound of a response came back to their loud hallos.
“That didn’t work,” said Cliff. “Maybe we’d better pick out trees and get ourselves off the ground while its light enough to see——”
“But jaguars—cats can climb trees,” Nicky objected.
“We’re as safe on the ground,” Tom urged. “We can gather wood and make a big bonfire and that will be better.”
In the rapidly waning light, gloomy at the best, they managed to gather broken, half-rotted twigs, branches, small strips of bark and dead vines and several logs, back in the glade.