Chapter XXXIII: The Climb

At last they found the trail. It wound up and away from the road about half a mile farther along than where they had found the shavings.

"I guess no one would have noticed those but you," Hervey said admiringly; "I guess the detectives would have gone right past them."

"A lot of little clews are better than one big one," Tom said as they scrambled up into the dense thicket. "The initials on the turtle, the new jack-knife, the willow shavings, all fit together."

"Yes, but it takes Tom Slade to fit them together," Hervey said.

"Maybe we might be mistaken after all," Tom answered. "Anyway, nobody'll have the laugh on us. We didn't talk to reporters."

Their journey now led up through dense woods, but the trail was clear and easy to follow. Now and again they caught glimpses of the country below and could see the majestic Hudson winding like a broad silver ribbon away between other mountains.

"Hark!" Tom said, stopping short.

Hervey paused, spellbound.

"I guess it was only a boat whistling," Tom said.

"It's pretty lonesome up here," Hervey commented.

The side of the mountain which they were ascending was less precipitous than the side facing the camp, and save for occasional patches of thicket where the path was overgrown, their way was not difficult.

"But I think it's longer than the trip would be straight from camp," Hervey said.

"Sure it is," Tom said; "Llewellyn proves that; he went down the shortest way. He might have come down this way to the Hudson, only he hit a bee line for the nearest water."

After about three quarters of an hour of this wearisome climb they came out on the edge of a lofty minor cliff which commanded a panoramic view of Temple Camp. They were, in fact, close to the edge of the more precipitous ascent and near the very point whence the eagle had swooped down.

From this spot the path descended into the thicket and down the steep declivity. Below them lay Black Lake with tiny black specks upon it--canoes manned by scouts. The faintest suggestion of human voices could be heard, but they did not sound human; rather like voices from another world.

Suddenly, in the vast, solemn stillness below them a shrill whistling sounded clear out of the dense jungle. It might have been a hundred yards down, or fifty; Tom could not say.

He was not at all excited nor elated. Holding up one hand to warn Hervey to silence, he stood waiting, listening intently.

Again the whistle sounded, shrill, clear-cut, in the still morning air.