“Tom, you’ve studied your chart good and hard, let’s hope,” commented Josh; “so we won’t run any chance of going past the place without knowing it?”
“He gave me certain land marks that I couldn’t very well miss seeing,” explained the patrol leader.
“According to my way of thinking,” Felix was saying, “we must be half around the foot of Big Bear Mountain by this time.”
“You’ve got the right idea of it,” admitted the one who carried the chart; “and Mr. Henderson’s cabin isn’t far away from here. That crag up on the side of the mountain was one of the things he told me about. When we can get it in a direct line with that peak up there we will be within shouting distance of his place.”
Tom continued to keep on his guard as they pressed onward. Every one was alive to the necessity of finding the cabin of the old naturalist as soon as possible. Farms were so rare up here that they found they could not count on getting their supplies from such places; and the possibility of going hungry was not a pleasant prospect.
After all it was an hour after noon when Tom announced the fact that the several land marks which had been given to him were in conjunction.
“The cabin must be around here somewheres,” he said, positively.
Hardly had he spoken when Josh was noticed to be sniffing the air in a suspicious fashion.
“What is it, Josh?” asked the scout master.
“I smell smoke, that’s all,” was the answer.