Will arose and went to the door. The sun was lifting through a narrow pass in the mountains, and the creatures of the thickets and the air were astir. A flock of water fowl was winging swiftly to the north, and what seemed to be the keen eyes of a wolf looked out from the shelter of the undergrowth. The air was clear and invigorating.
"Why don't you answer my question?" asked Sandy.
"Did you hear footsteps outside?" asked Will.
Sandy shook his head, but the two boys, after drawing on their head-nets, stepped out into the glorious morning.
"There is no reason," Will decided, "why the person who attacked the boy and stole the paper should find it necessary to leave this section without trying to find out something more. I have an idea that whoever injured the lad is still in this vicinity—that he will remain in this vicinity as long as there is a prospect of his securing additional information."
"The mosquitos will eat him up if he remains around here without proper shelter!" Sandy suggested.
"That is one way of fighting off mosquitos," Will said, catching the boy by the arm and pointing off to the east, where a faint line of smoke was making its way through the still air.
"There's some kind of a camp there, all right!" exclaimed Sandy.
Tommy and George now came out of the cabin and the four boys stood for some moments watching the column of smoke which seemed to grow more dense every moment. While they looked, a second column appeared beside the first.
"If we were in a Boy Scout country," Tommy exclaimed, "I should say that was an Indian signal for help."