Chapter XXV: Lost
The desire to sleep soon overcame the desire to think and wonder more, and it made Westy powerless to do anything but just shut his eyes. It lulled his tired nerves like a powerful opiate after the day’s events and soon he and Rip were breathing quietly and restfully through the long night.
A faint chink of light shining through the aperture told Westy that it was daylight. But he was disheartened when he heard the steady patter of rain upon the dead leaves outside. Rip was still sleeping peacefully as yet and Westy hadn’t the heart to disturb him.
There was an awful gnawing sensation in his stomach and he felt mighty uncomfortable and stretched out a bit. With that Rip stirred and sat up quickly.
“Jiminy, I didn’t know where I was for the moment! Some little hiding place, eh? I wonder what Unk thinks, though?”
“I’ve been thinking of that, too.” Westy was thinking of a little tell-tale pile of clothes that would be discovered along with his own discarded shoes.
“After I locate something to chew on why we’ll go and keep watch for them from the cliff, so they’ll at least know we are still alive.”
“That’s right, I didn’t think of it Unk will be relieved--but peeved at me!”
They were putting on their dried things--that is, Westy was, but Rip had only his bathing suit. Then they crawled out, viewing the desolate scene around them, for it was raining harder than they thought.
“We’ll have to look up some eats somewhere, Rip. Feel all right to mosey around with me?”
“Sure.”
“All right then. You better take my socks. I’ve more on than you.”
“Naw, I don’t feel cold yet. We’re a hot-looking team, though, to be walking around in the jungle and half undressed at that in all this rain. Let’s go!”
The quest in search of food was exceedingly arduous as they walked further and further into the thick forest. In the end, as the fruits of their labors in beating down underbrush and tall weeds, all they found was some wild berries here and there. It sufficed a little, but they hadn’t so far found a stream anywhere in which to quench their thirst.
“We’ll have to make the best of it for now, Rip. There’s no telling what time it is a day like this without the sun, so we better make the same tracks for the cliff and signal your Uncle and Billy some way. Lola’s sure to come, too.”
They started back. Rip’s bare feet were getting uncomfortably sore from the stone bruises and cuts he was continually receiving and Westy’s socks were horribly soggy and cold. He took them off and threw them away.
It seemed that they had been walking a long time and Westy looked frankly puzzled.
“Do I imagine it, or are the trees thicker than when we came this way hunting for the berries? It looks different to me somehow, don’t you think so?”
“Sure it does, Wes. This isn’t the way we came at all--I can’t see our tracks now at all!”
“You’re right! Let’s go back a bit.”
They went back, but looking for their footprints became a decided search.
“We might as well go right on until we find them,” Westy said, as puzzled as ever.
“Yeh, let’s keep strict watch this time!”
On they went, eyes fixed on the ground and at the same time victims to the overhanging branches and thick thorny brush. Their faces and arms were scratched almost beyond recognition.
Hour after hour passed.
They were getting hungry again; in fact, they had been that way for a long while and their thirst was acute. No water had they spied yet, and after devouring some more berries in resignation, they rested a little and then went on.
Hardly a word had been spoken between them, for they were keenly aware of their serious situation and the rain was falling as bad as ever with night coming on apace.
Westy thought that the cliff must have fallen prey to some supernatural power and had been swallowed up in the forest’s depths also.
Hungry, tired and thirsty, they watched the gray shadows of twilight steal through the closely grown trees, and where even in broad daylight it was a place of gloom.
Now it seemed more depressing than ever and the echoes of their voices came back to them like mocking ghosts of days long past.
It was awfully eerie, and as they sat down on a bowlder to rest, huddled close together to keep warm, the tall trees stood out like gaunt shadows in a sepulchral world.
“Do you realize, Rip? Here we are--two scouts----”
“Yep!”
“And we’re lost!”
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Westy Martin on the Santa Fe TrailChapter XXV: Lost
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