"Give me the white man's burden, every time; if a lot of other things go with it, like we get at a supper down at Coney Island in the good old summer time," was Frank's idea.
Strange, how boys will let their thoughts stray back to other fields, even when facing peril in the Canada bush. To hear these lads talk, one would never think that they were at the same time keeping a constant lookout for enemies, who would be apt to deal harshly with them because Ned and his chums had outwitted the shrewd schemers owning the fake mine.
It was nearly half an hour later, when they discovered that smoke was also rising directly in the east. Evidently some of the men, over on the Harricanaw, were sending back an answer to the message in smoke, which had been thrown out against the sky, by those guarding the mine.
"Mebbe I don't wish I could read their old signals," declared Jimmy; "but, I just can't. They've got a different code to the one the scouts use, which makes it all Chocktaw to me. If anybody can give a guess what they're saying, put us wise, please."
CHAPTER XIII.
A DREADFUL CALAMITY.
Apparently, no one among the scouts was able to favor Jimmy with regard to telling what the smoke signals meant. Whoever might be responsible for the code used by all scouts, it had evidently not been founded on that in use up here in the Far North, by these trappers and woodsrangers.
"I've been trying to get the hang of it myself," Jack acknowledged; "but must say, I'm like a man up a tree. When I begin to think I'm coming on, there's a slip, and it's all off again. How about you, Ned?"