Dan Carter and the Great Carved Face Part 5

"Not even a trace of a bon-fire," remarked Chips. "I guess this proves who was right, Red."

"It does not!"

"Give him a chance, boys," interposed Mr. Hatfield. "The place Red's looking for may be up the ravine from here."

"That's right," Red agreed quickly. "This doesn't look like the place at all."

"Well, lead us to it then," urged Fred. "That's all we're waiting for."

Considerably let-down, Red turned to the left, picking his way along the edge of the ravine. At intervals, he paused to scan the walls and shelf of rock.

"Hey, my feet hurt!" Chips presently complained. "How much farther do we walk?"

Red halted, gazing at Mr. Hatfield in despair.

"It's no use, I guess. I never came this far last night."

"I'm afraid we'll have to give up the search for this afternoon," the cubmaster said regretfully. "We can try again sometime, Red."

The Cub made no reply, but was sunk in gloom. Well he knew that the other boys would make life miserable for him, twitting him about his vivid imagination.

He was grateful that during the hike back along the ravine, they refrained from making remarks.

Reaching the turn-off by the granite boulder, Red again paused to survey the site.

"I think we went the wrong direction," he said. "If we'd turned right instead of left, we'd have hit the place. Close by too."

"No alibis," chided Chips.

"Just give me five minutes more," the boy pleaded. "That's all I ask.

Five minutes! If I can't find the place by that time, then I'm willing to eat worms."

"Five minutes?" repeated Mr. Hatfield, noting how rapidly darkness was falling upon the ravine. "I guess we can give you that much time, but no more."

"Come on, then," Red urged, leading off, almost at a dog trot. "We're traveling fast this time."

The Cubs were hard pressed to keep up. Sure of foot, Red skirted close to the edge of the steep cliffs.

"This is the right way, I'm certain!" he encouraged the others. "I think I remember that white birch!"

"You think!" Chips exploded as he caught his shoe on a sharp rock. "You better be sure."

Abruptly, Red halted. So suddenly did he stop that those behind him b.u.mped into one another.

"What did I tell you!" he fairly shouted. "I guess this proves whether or not I was dreaming!"

Through a gap in the bushes, the Cubs glimpsed the opposite wall of the ravine. One section of it had fallen away, leaving an expanse of rich clay.

From this surface loomed a grotesque carved face, that of a man with very severe features.

The Cubs were so taken aback that for a full minute they could only stand and stare. Then Dan exclaimed:

"It's real enough. Gosh, what a face!"

"How did it get here?" Brad demanded. "Who carved it?"

"And what about that fire Red saw?" added Chips.

"I can see where a fire was built on that rock shelf directly below the carved face," observed Mr. Hatfield.

Both he and Mr. Holloway were mystified by the strange carving, having had no knowledge that anything of the sort could be found in the park area.

"Someone was here last night all right," the cubmaster declared.

"And someone's here now," murmured Brad, peering intently down into a clump of bushes directly behind the dead ashes of the camp fire. "We're being watched by a man who's hiding there in the foliage!"

CHAPTER 4 SUSPICION

Brad's observation caused the other Cubs to glance alertly toward the clump of bushes. Distinctly, they could see a crouching figure among the leaves.

"Someone is hiding there!" cried Red.

His words carried across the chasm and to the man who squatted close against the wall of the cliff.

As the Cubs watched, the bush moved convulsively. They saw the shadowy figure retreat behind the screen of foliage, and finally disappear on a trail.

"You scared him away, Red!" Dan exclaimed. "Who was he, anyhow?"

"Maybe the person who carved that grotesque face in the clay wall,"

commented Brad. "Whoever he was, he didn't want us to see him."

"Let's go after him," urged Chips, eager for action. "How about it?"

To reach the opposite side of the chasm, it would be necessary to make a sharp descent, and an equally sharp climb on the other side. By the time the Cubs could reach the site of the carved clay face, the fleeing man would be far away.

"No use going after him," Mr. Hatfield decided. "After all, he may have as much right to be in this park area as we."

"Do you suppose he was the one who carved that queer face?" speculated Fred.

"It's very likely," agreed his father. "The face isn't quite finished.

Notice the left side. The cheek is only half carved."

The Cubs stood for several minutes, gazing at the huge face which seemed to return their stare. A lowering sun cast a reddish-golden glow over the upper section while the remainder of the carving was shrouded in cool shadow.

"Whoever did the work is a skilled sculptor," commented Mr. Hatfield.