“I can see nothing,” he called down to Bub.
“Then descend,” directed Bub.
“Hold! As I live, I can make out a thin streamer of smoke!”
“Point in which direction,” cried Bub.
“Directly in the path of the setting sun,” informed Stanley. “That is why I did not make it out at first.”
“Hurry, hurry. We must make for it and learn the true situation,” urged Bub.
“Why, Bub, I can make out two streamers of smoke, very near together, yet distinct. Ah! one is dying out now. Now there is only one.”
“Hump yourself, Stan! They’ve caught Abner!” yelled Bub, regardless of any danger in the rear. “They’ve nailed him and he’s managed to start a blaze near their campfire, hoping we’d see it. It’s the two smokes, meaning he’s in trouble. They caught him at it and put out his smoke. But they were not quite quick enough. Now, my son, if ever you hustled and acted the part of a woodsman now is the time for you to distinguish yourself.”
“Take the lead,” grimly directed Stanley, tightening his belt to the last notch. “You’ll find me at your heels. We’ll rescue Abner, or give ourselves up as prisoners.”
