"Heap big smoke," grunted the Indian, loping into camp. He had followed the shore of the lake to the westward around a bend.
"Eh?" demanded Cale.
"Heap big smoke."
"Where? Where?"
The Indian pointed, then started down the shore again, followed by the entire party. They halted some distance from the camp, and again Charlie pointed. The boys and the men gazed at the peak of the high mountain which Tad had pointed out to his companion two days before that. As the Indian pointed a cloud of grayish smoke rose from the forest crowning the mountain. An interval of a minute, then came another, then still another.
"It's a signal!" cried Vaughn. "Wait!"
Ten minutes later the three-cloud smoke signal was made again. There could be no mistake about it. Someone was making an Indian smoke signal. Vaughn gave the rifle signal in acknowledgment. There was no reply. He gave it again. For the third time did he give it, then from the distance came a rifle shot.
A pause followed, then three more shots.
"We've got 'em!" cried Cale Vaughn triumphantly.
"Boys make good Indians," grunted Charlie John.