“Goin’ up again, eh?”
“If there’s a possible chance. But if you don’t want to risk it——”
“See here, Bob”—the lad spoke in a highly injured tone—“did you ever know me to back out——”
“Never did, Cran,” laughed Bob.
“And you never will, either. I’ll go where anybody else will, and maybe a bit further. No Willie Sloan ’bout me, Bob.”
“Poor little chap,” sighed Bob.
“I’m afraid he’s had such a scare that it’ll take a year for him to get over it. I’ll be mighty glad when to-morrow morning comes.”
“By that time we ought to know more than we do now, Cranny.”
Bob had taken the precaution to pack in a small bag a supply of bacon, crackers and cheese, so the two hurried toward a patch of timber in search of fuel.
After fifteen minutes of brisk chopping, Bob kindled a fire on the edge of the woods, while Cranny filled the coffee-pot from the canteens and got the cooking utensils ready.