"Hit her up, then; though perhaps I could guess what it's like, Bob."
"All right then. You know what I mean--and that since we're away up
here, we might as well make up our minds to hunt an overhanging ledge,
and take a nap. But say, what're you sniffing that way for, Frank?"
"Just imagined that I got a faint whiff of smoke; but of course it was
all in my eye," replied the other.
"Was it? I tell you I had a scent of it myself right then," declared
the taller lad, showing signs of considerable excitement.
"Seems to come and go, then, for I don't get it any more. What was it
like, Bob? Did you ever smell sulphur burning?"
"Lots of times, and helped to use it too, disinfecting," replied Bob,
readily. "Spent months with my uncle, who is a doctor in Cincinnati,
during an epidemic, and he often had to clean out rookeries just to
stamp out the disease. But this wasn't any sulphur odor I caught,
Frank."
"Then you could recognize it; eh?" asked his chum.
"It was burning wood, I give you my word for that," replied Bob, firmly.
"Hum. That sounds more like it. We'll let the volcano matter sizzle
for a little while, and look around for something smaller. Burning
wood must mean a fire, Bob!"
"That's what they say, always; where there's smoke there must be fire.
But it seems to me we ought to see such a thing on this black night,
Frank."
"Unless it's hidden, as we make our cooking fire; or else the blaze is
at the last gasp.
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