"The crowd over on the Harricanaw River, you mean?" demanded Jimmy.
"Yes."
"Then they'll be apt to know we gave 'em the slip, won't they?" the freckled faced scout continued.
"I suppose they will, because you notice that every now and then the smoke seems to stop," Ned answered. "As a scout in good standing, Jimmy, you ought to know how that's done."
"Two fellers swing a blanket over the smoking wood and smother it for a bit, to send up another big puff. Yes, that's what they call talking. Letters are formed by the puffs of smoke, just as we do the same with the wigwag flags, or the piece of looking-glass in the sun, when we heliograph."
"And right now, somewhere or other, one or more of those men must be reading out the message, letter by letter," said the patrol leader seriously, while they continued to walk on.
"It won't take long to tell how we happened to show up at the mine, and took a nice little saunter through the same, seeing how fine it was being cured—I mean salted," Teddy interrupted, thinking that Jimmy had done more than his full share of the cross questioning, and ought to give place to some one else.
"I shouldn't think it would," agreed Ned.
"I wonder now if the men over on the river will guess what happened, and how we must have left our boats secreted somewhere above?" ventured Frank.
"That is something we have no means of telling," Ned informed him; "but since it might happen, we'll have to keep a sharp lookout on the way across country. We might fall into ambush, and either be shot down or else made prisoners."