The men rejected Frank’s idea that they head for Boise, and insisted they return to South Raven. “It’s rough country, boys,” Frank told them. Frank’s statement was met with stony silence. Frank shrugged. “All right,” he said, swinging into the saddle. “Let’s do it.” The Easterners put the miles behind them without complaint. Frank knew they must all be hurting from the many beatings they had endured, and his opinion of the men rose considerably as the miles passed. On the evening of the second day out, the land was dusted with a light snow. But the morning sky dawned a bright blue and the men pushed on. Frank killed a deer later that day, and everybody went to sleep that night with a full belly. The saw no signs of the kidnappers. Over breakfast, with Frank using the last of the flour and lard, Bernard Harrison asked, “What do you think happened to our kidnappers?” Frank shook his head. “I don’t know. But I doubt we’ve seen the last of them. At least as far as I’m concerned.”
