As the day waned, they began urging their horses to a faster pace, White explaining that he wished to reach a certain camp-site that day. He said it would make an ideal Sunday rest camp.
“Do you think we shall be safe there?” questioned Emma. “Oh, I hope so, Hamilton.”
“As safe there as anywhere up here—perhaps more so, for we shall be on high ground where nothing can get to us, at least in daylight, without our observing the approach.”
“You know the place, then?” suggested Hippy. “Have you been there before?”
“No.” The answer was brief and final, and Hippy wondered how Ham could know about a particular spot in the forest, and lead them directly to it if he never had been there. Hippy could find no answer to that.
The Overland Riders reached the site just before sundown. The country about them was mountainous and heavily forested. Back of the camp towered a huge rock. A little way from it was a smooth level spot, and bubbling from the rock itself there came a stream of water almost at ice temperature, as they discovered when drinking cups were brought and all hands helped themselves.
“Oh!” cried Grace. “Is there any drink in the world to equal it?”
“And never has been,” nodded Miss Briggs.
The guide gave expression to a wry smile and went on about his work of preparing for a week-end camp. Lieutenant Wingate attended to the unloading, the equipment being piled in orderly manner, and, after a time, Stacy was prodded into assisting him.
“Mercy! What a peculiar odor there is here,” exclaimed Grace. “Don’t you smell it, girls?”
“Hippy, what is it? Don’t you smell something disagreeable?” demanded Nora.
“Now that you speak of it, I do. Stacy, see if you can find anything dead about here.”
“The place is all dead,” growled the fat boy. “No excitement, no nothing. But there may be, there may be.”
“May be what?” asked Hippy, regarding the boy keenly.
“Oh, nothing much. I was just thinking.” Stacy avoided Hippy’s eyes, for his was a guilty conscience. Stacy Brown had been making an experiment, but as yet he did not know whether or not it was going to produce satisfactory results. He saw Hamilton White give him a slanting glance out of the corners of his eyes, and got busy at once unrolling packs and laying out the tents. This alone should have been sufficient to arouse the suspicion of the Overland Riders, for the fat boy never worked unless for some particular reason of his own. The others of the party were too busy to notice him, and after a time they became used to the strange odor, faint at times and then strong, as the evening breeze stirred it into life.