It was the morning of the third day, and the friends were filling the little bag fast; and at breakfast George quizzed Robinson's late fears.
“The leather-head didn't tell anybody, for here we are all alone.”
Robinson laughed.
“But we should not have been, if I had let you light a fire. However, I really begin to hope now they will let us alone till we have cleared out the gully. Hallo!”
“What is the matter?”
“Look there, George.”
“What is it? Smoke rising—down the valley?”
“We are done! Didn't I tell you?”
“Don't say so, Tom. Why, it is only smoke, and five miles off.”
“What signifies what it is or where it is? It is on the road to us.”