“What is it, Madcap? A viper stung you?”
“I don’t know. It seems as if the tree was red-hot,” answered Max.
“That is good. How could a tree be red-hot?”
“Feel for yourself.”
“You are right. By the beard of the prophet the tree must be burning.”
Max struck the trunk with a knife, but the blade broke in two, and no impression was made on the tree.
Another, and still another tree was tried, with the same result.
A couple of hours wandering about, striking trees with the hafts of their knives, or the butt of their guns, convinced them that they had discovered a freak of nature—a veritable petrified forest.
It was true.
Every tree, by some action of nature, had changed its allegiance from the vegetable to the mineral kingdom.