THE ADVENTURE

The truck wound down toward the lower valley and stopped briefly at the spot where Little Jon had crouched in hiding on Saturday.

"As nearly as I can guess," Thomas told him, "You must have walked ten or twelve miles through the mountains to come here. That's all National Forest. You were heading east most of the time. Which way did you head earlier when you were following the deer to that field of Gilby's?"

"I don't know, sir. We wound around a lot. And we went over one low ridge before we got down into the valley."

"H'mm. Have you any idea how long it took you to reach the field?"

"It's hard to judge sir. You see, I hadn't learned to count the time the way you do.

And I felt so bad-it was all I could do to keep up with the doe. it may have been an

hour, or even more. How far can you walk in an hour?"

Thomas chuckled. "In this country there's no telling. But let's say you walked a mile and a half, and mostly in an easterly direction. Gilby's place is in a pocket

where the valley curves-and it isn't the same valley as this one. So what we'll do is drive past his land and hike up the mountain to the first cove. If we can't find a spot you recognize, we'll come back tomorrow and start in below Gilby's."

The truck moved on, going up and down and winding in many directions. Finally it crossed a bridge and turned into another valley. They drove past a farm and several summer cottages that faced a noisy creek bordering the road. The next farm was nearly hidden by the dense growth of poplars along the fence.

"That's Gilby's place," said Thomas, jerking his head as they went by. "Dr.

Holliday's property is about a quarter of a mile farther on. We'll stop between the two."

At the first wide spot in the road, the truck was run as far over to the edge of the

creek as possible, and they got out. "There's no bridge near," Thomas told him.

"We'll have to wade."

"I'll jump," said Jon, and without thinking he made his feet light and cleared the

stream in a bound. Turning, he saw the expression on Thomas Bean's face. After

Thomas had splashed awkwardly over, Jon said apologetically, "I-IK forgot. You're afraid someone might see me do that."

"I'd hate for Anderson Bush to catch you at it."

Thomas stamped water from his boots and squinted at the forested slopes rising

on three sides of them. "By the roads, we're nearly fifteen miles from home. Bet

you can't tell me in what direction home is-and no fair peeking in my head for the

answer!"

"I already know the answer," Jon told him, pointing over that ridge yonder. You

see, I've been watching the way the roads and the valley curve."

"I'll be jiggered! There's not a man in a hundred would guess that, unless he'd

been raised around here. It's only two miles through a gap back of the Holliday

place-if you know the trail."

"Oh!"

Thomas Bean frowned at him. "What's worrying you, Jon?

"I was wondering why Mr. Macklin's boys would steal-and why Mr. Macklin would

let them do it."

"Great guns, how'd you ever get such an idea?"

"Well, you've been thinking they did, and Mr. Macklin knows they did, because

yesterday when he stopped at the shop, he was thinking about it." Jon paused

and looked up earnestly. "Please Mr. Bean, you mustn't believe that I'm always

looking into other people's heads. It isn't-" He groped for a word. "It isn't polite or

even right. The only reason I've been doing it is so I could learn. I had to do it. And

sometimes you have thoughts that are so strong, they-they seem to jump out atme. It goes with the way you feel. He was thinking about his boys carrying things

over the gap, from a house on this side. It didn't mean anything to me then, but

now I understand why the thought was so strong."

"Good grief!" Thomas muttered, staring at him. He began snapping his fingers.

"What a thing to know-and we can't say a word about it."

Thomas gave a worried shake of his head and adjusted the knapsack over his

shoulder. "Let's forget about the Macklins and see if we can find the spot we're

after. It's getting more important all the time." He thrust through a tangle of

laurels and began limping up a narrow Ravine that opened through the trees.

Jon followed him easily. He could have climbed twice as fast had Thomas been

able to manage it. It was too bad, he thought, that people here couldn't make

their feet light and save themselves so much trouble in getting around. It was

such a simple thing. A way of thinking. But it was like so many other things that

should be simple-like agreeing on something that was right, instead of trying to

make it right or wrong of the war.

They topped the first ridge, and Thomas Bean stopped to rest. "See anything that

looks familiar to you?"

"I don't believe I came this way," he said, studying the shadowed cove below

them. "If I'd felt better Saturday, I'm sure I could have remembered everything

exactly. But my head hurt, and I was so confused . . ."

"Don't apologize. This isn't going to be easy. I've known people to be lost for days

in these mountains and all the time they were in the mountains, they were within

half hour of the road. Let's start working east."

They followed the cove, crossed another ridge, and tramped for a winding mile or

more through the dense forest. By Noon, Jon had seen nothing he recognized or

thought was familiar. Finally, they sat down on a mossy outcropping of rock, And

Thomas opened his knapsack. Jon had just finished a sandwich and was halfway through an apple when he suddenly whispered . . .