"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.
"First of all, get me to that place. Lead off, and I'll be close at your heels. And, Bob, don't forget that spot where you came near having your tumble. Keep your level head about you."
"I'll sure try to, Frank. Come on then."
Bob led the way through the darkness. Although he had been out West for so short a time Bob Archer was rapidly learning the ways practiced by those who live close to Nature. He began to observe always all that he saw, and in such a way that he could describe it again, in every detail.
And so it chanced that, having marked his course when coming back after his unsuccessful search for the fire, he was able, not only to lead his comrade thither, but to warn him every time they approached a dangerous slide, where a trip might hurl one some hundreds of feet down the face of Thunder Mountain.
"Here is the place, Frank," Bob suddenly said, in a cautious whisper.