Hunting about, Louise found a pretty little mountain bell in between rocks, where it must have expected security, while Cleo and Julia were soon applying their newest botanical knowledge on the Jack-in-pulpit and companion wild orchids.
Glittering bits of stone, the sparkling mica-schist, that looks like pebbly crystals spread on too thick, afforded another line of investigation, and following such a trail into a little ravine, Julia discovered the dynamite sign.
At first she was inclined to heed its warning literally, and with a little squeal she dropped one of her prettiest stones and scraped her riding boot in hurrying away; but Cleo was more daring.
“Just one of those make-believe signs,” she suggested. “Perhaps the boys gathered them from around the old powder works and set them up to scare people away.”
“Maybe the boys have a hidden cave somewhere and the signs are to keep folks away,” Louise amplified the idea so barely outlined by Cleo.
“But we had better not follow the trail,” demurred Julia. “The rocks are awfully rough anyhow, and we will skin our boots to pieces if we try to climb higher.”
All three stood looking at the sign but no one ventured to touch the tin square, which stood on its iron peg firmly planted in the ground and mutely gave forth its “Danger” warning.
Cleo bent over to look all around the little signal.
“There doesn’t seem to be a pipe, or a wire, or anything near it,” she reported. “I can’t see how there can be any danger without something dangerous.”
“Don’t you dare touch it,” warned Julia. “It is certainly planted there for some purpose.”