At dusk, when it was time for Rube's return, Kiddie got ready some venison cutlets and chipped potatoes for frying with them for supper. But before beginning his cooking he waited until he should hear Rube's signal call from afar. He sat by the fire listening for it with his eyes bent on the slope of the hill where he expected Rube to appear.
The long minutes went by, but he heard no signal call and saw no sign of his companion. Still, he was not anxious. Rube might be sheltering from the rain under the lee of some rock.
The mist on the mountains thickened, the darkness of night and the drizzling rain blotted out all landmarks.
Kiddie whistled at regular intervals--a long, penetrating whistle it was. He piled more fuel on the fire, so that the glow might serve as a guide. He knew that there would be no use in going out in search of Rube. They might so easily miss each other in these trackless wilds; unless indeed, Rube was hurt and unable to move about. Climbing in the fog among rocks slippery with rain and wet moss, he was likely enough to have missed his footing and injured a limb in his fall.
This thought that Rube was possibly lying helpless on the crags began to worry Kiddie as the night grew late. He blamed himself for having allowed the boy to go forth alone on such a hazardous adventure.
"It's the kind of thing I'd have done myself when I was his age," he reflected. "I can't blame Rube. But I ought to have stopped him from going when I saw that there was rain coming on and saw the mist gathering on the hills. Pity we didn't bring the hound with us after all. Sheila would sure have found him."
Fearing that he might yet have to go out in search of the boy, he cooked his own supper. He had already packed all his stores under the shelter of the wigwam and the canoe, covering the latter with the ground-sheet. He had also lighted the hurricane lamp and suspended it from the top of the totem pole.
He ate his supper in the teepee, but more than once got up from the solitary meal to open the door-flap and look out searchingly in the darkness for signs of Rube.
Towards midnight the light of the moon behind the clouds lessened the surrounding darkness. He could dimly distinguish the mountain ridges, outlined against the sky. The rain had ceased. The mist had lifted from the heights; but it still hung in fantastic layers between the walls of Lone Wolf Cañon.