"What have you found?" Drew asked, as soon as he got within speaking distance.
"Look!" she answered. "Doesn't that big rock over there seem to you like a witch's head—wild and ragged locks, and all that?"
From where he was then standing, he could trace no resemblance, but when he reached her side and looked from the same angle he raised a shout.
"The very thing!" he cried. "There can't be any doubt of it."
The rock in question stood apart from the rest on the slope of the hill. Nature had carved it in a moment of prankishness. There were all the features of an old crone, forehead, nose, sunken mouth, nut-cracker jaws, while small streams of lava, hardening as they had flowed, gave the similitude of scanty tresses.
Tyke and the captain, soon came up, and all their doubts disappeared as they gazed.
"The Witch's Head!" they agreed exultantly.
"With that to start with, the rest will be easy," cried Drew. "The Three Sisters can't be more than a few hundred feet or so away."
Ten minutes' further search revealed a group of three rocks, which, while having no resemblance to female faces, were the only ones that stood apart from all the rest as a trio.
The hands of the three men trembled as they got out the old map and pored over it.