"But what does that matter, when
neither of us can find any fire around? I sniffed and sniffed, but
although I just turned my eyes in every direction not even a tiny spark
could I see. And that happened just three times, Frank."
"What! do you mean you smelled smoke three separate times since you
left me?" demanded the saddle boy.
"I'm sure it must have been three, because it was between the first and
second times that I tripped. Yes, and always in just the same place
too, which was queer enough."
"That sounds kind of encouraging, Bob," declared Frank.
"Do you think so?" asked the other, puzzled to account for Frank's
newly awakened interest. "Tell me why, won't you, please, Frank?"
"Sure, after you have answered me a question," Frank promptly remarked.
"All right, let's have it, then," his chum returned.
"Do you think you could find that exact spot again?" asked Frank.
"Meaning where I sniffed that smoke each time? Why, I guess I can,
because I went back there twice, all right. Couldn't be quite
satisfied that there wasn't _something_ around there I ought to
discover. But it turned out a fizzle, Frank."
"Perhaps it wouldn't be so unkind to me, though," the Western boy
declared. "Take me to that place, Bob, and right away. It strikes me
I'd just like to get another little whiff of that same wood smell,
myself. It wouldn't be the first time I'd followed up a smoke trail."
"Gracious! that sounds interesting, and I hope you can do it, Frank!"
breathed Bob, his admiration for his chum awakening once more.
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