“What’s he got to do with it?” asked Jimmie. “What did you find out in the city? You won’t have no luck if you don’t tell me all about it.”
So, while they waited, Ned told him “all about it,” while the boy sat in the dusk with his eyes and mouth both opened wide at the mystery of the thing.
“I don’t believe Albert Lemon ever got out here so soon,” the lad said, when the story was told. “He couldn’t.”
“Then who is the man from San Francisco?” asked Ned.
“It can’t be the dead man?” questioned Jimmie.
“You saw him buried,” Ned answered.
“Then I give it up!” Jimmie said.
The two sat there in silence a long time, then Jimmie gave Ned’s arm a pull and pointed to a flickering light in the forest just above the glade where the aeroplane rested.
“They think you’ve landed somewhere here,” the boy said, “an’ have set fire to the woods.”
“I think you have guessed it,” Ned said. “However, the blaze won’t run very fast up there, for the undergrowth is scanty, so we’ve got plenty of time to get out of the way.”