"It might be Tom," he said.
Alton laughed in a curious fashion. "I don't think it is. One fire would be enough for Tom to make his supper with, and that one's nearer us."
"But," said Seaforth, "I can scarcely see the smoke."
Alton raised one hand impatiently. "No," he said. "Whoever made that fire didn't want you to, and there's no need to make much smoke if you keep clear of sap and twigs."
Seaforth's face grew grave. "Is there any reason why you can't tell me a little more? If the man would sooner we did not see it, what did he make the fire for?"
Alton smiled grimly. "I don't know any more, but a man must eat," he said. "In the meanwhile it seems to me that fellow understands his business, and I've a kind of notion we shall hear from him or see him presently."
Seaforth glanced back along the blue-grey trail that led towards the bare hill shoulder, which rose a mere ridge of the great mountain side that swept round the hollow.
"There is no controverting that, and he needn't have much difficulty in finding us if he wants to. Is there anything to be done?" he said.
"No," said Alton dryly. "If there was, I'd sit down here and wait for him, but there's nothing to stop a free miner prospecting round where it suits him in this country."