Chapter XXXIV: Forgotten Footprints

It would be needless to say that hearts were light and voices happy in the little cabin that day. The doctor had just left and assured them that Uncle Jeb was on the fast road to recovery.

When he had disappeared from view, Artie and Westy entered the cabin and sat down to entertain Uncle Jeb with some talk. He asked, for the first time since his illness, just how things had occurred on that near-fateful day. They related in detail all the events and happenings. He smiled with pride at the integrity these two boys had shown.

“I kinda reckon thet it was what you fellas would call a day chuckful o’ good turns, eh?” he chuckled.

“I guess that’s about it, Uncle Jeb,” Westy answered, glad of his old-time good humor returning.

They had planned a while back to camp by the lake for a few days before the summer season was over, and now Uncle Jeb brought up the topic again, and promised them they would go as soon as his strength returned.

It was nearing the end of August and the weather was still very warm, so Artie and Westy received this news with pleasure evidenced in their smiling faces.

“We’ll go,” said Uncle Jeb, “providin’ yuh promise not to take it into yure heads to go a-rescuin’ dead eagles!”

“We promise,” they both answered with mock gravity.

They had camped several times out through the different trails west of the cabin, and as a sequel to their recent perilous adventure, they joyously anticipated sleeping so close to it.

That they were two extraordinary boys, Uncle Jeb quietly admitted, for fear seemed utterly foreign to their natures. After their experiences in that region, one would think they would shun the spot, but not Artie and Westy. It lured them on and the old trapper sagaciously told them that, not only were they Boy Scouts of merit, but full-fledged real scouts.

On a bright morning shortly after, they took to the trail in company with the two mules, intending to go on to the Inn before they returned.

They had much to be thankful for, this blithesome trio, swinging along under the glaring sun, without a care in the world. Uncle Jeb after his serious illness seemed to have renewed health once again. He was whistling merrily, by way of expressing himself, and the boys joined in.

With exultant voices echoing throughout the Pass, and back around the lake again, they made camp. Now and then their shouts rang boldly and daringly up toward the hollow and reverberated over the precipice, defying the eagles now from a safe distance. But the day sped onward, crammed full of things to do, and still there was no sign of their erstwhile enemies.

“Wa-al,” explained Uncle Jeb, when Westy eagerly asked him if he thought they were liable to nest somewhere else, “it’s a-happened afore, thet they go way fer a spell like thet, ’n if we hain’t a-seen ’em so fur, ’tain’t likely yure a-goin’ ter see ’em fer a while longer.”

They were sitting cozily content around a bright crackling fire, the stars shimmering overhead and a new moon making its initial bow, as yet just faintly visible in the distant heavens.

Uncle Jeb had been gazing in front of him, his eyes gradually roving up toward the hollow and around over the Pass. For a moment, it seemed to Westy that he started a little. Then he continued to look again.

“I guess I’m plumb crazy, boys,” he began, “but I cud a-swore I seed one o’ them durn flashlights afore on thet precipice, movin’ back’n forth.”

Artie and Westy straightened up, aroused. They knew Uncle Jeb was never given to seeing things. But, to their disappointment, they couldn’t discern anything up on the cliff at all. The moon was still in its infancy, and around the hollow and through the Pass one could not penetrate the inky blackness.

“Yit,” said Uncle Jeb, as if trying to reason it out with himself, “I’m as shure of it as I kin be, but then thar isn’t a pusson aroun’ these parts thet would go up on a bet, ’ceptin’ you rascals!”

They laughed at the faint hint of admiration that would creep into his voice whenever he referred to the incident.

Resuming his thoughtful preoccupation, they tried to concentrate their vision also, but soon gave it up. Evidently, Uncle Jeb discerned nothing further either, as he arose and yawned sleepily. Putting the fire out they all turned in.

Now Westy, being the romantic and imaginative boy he was, lay rolled in his blankets, gazing fixedly at the stars overhead. The cool night wind caressed his face, as he pondered and turned over in his mind what Uncle Jeb had mentioned about no one around those parts who would dare venture up on the cliff. He suddenly remembered with a thrill the discovery he had made and forgotten about until now. There was no doubt about it, now that he came to think of it again. The day that Artie and he ascended that forbidden trail, the marks were perfectly plain.

Another person had traveled that trail, other than they.