“Tell us, Waltermyer,” interrupted Miles Morse, “what is it George Cary sees?”
“Smoke!”
“Smoke? I do not understand you.”
“Smoke and fire. But you will soon learn for yourselves.”
Every one sprung upright, and from the backs of their steeds could see dense volumes of smoke, through which flashed red tongues of living flame, and again the question was asked as to what it could be.
“The sloo is on fire!” he replied. “We are cut off—surrounded!”
“Great heavens, can this be true?”
“Just as true as the heaven you call upon!”
“Then we are lost!”
“Thousands have been before you, and not enough left of thar bones to tell whar the fire has been.”