"Oh, no," said Cal, "because he'd always miss his queue."
"Reminds me of the fellow who thought he was of royal blood every time he watered his wife's rubber plant which grew in a porcelain pot," grinned Nat.
"I'll bite this time," volunteered Joe, "How was that, Mister Bones?"
"Well, he said that when he irrigated it, he rained over china," grinned Nat, speeding the car up a little grade.
"If this rare and refined vein of humor is about exhausted," said Joe with some dignity after the laugh this caused had subsided, "I would like to draw the attention of the company to that smoke right ahead of us."
"Is that smoke? I thought it was dust," said Nat, squinting along the track ahead of them.
The column of bluish, brownish vapor to which Joe had drawn attention could now be seen quite distinctly, pouring steadily upward above the crest of a ridge of mountains beyond them. Although they were travelling at a considerable height they could not make out what was causing it, but Cal's face grew grave. He said nothing, however, but if the others had noticed him they would have seen that his keen eyes never left the column which, as they neared it, appeared to grow larger in size until it towered above its surroundings like a vaporous giant or the funnel of a whirlwind.