Harry folded his map, took a piece of chocolate, and settled himself comfortably against the tree trunk. “We’ll wait and see,” he said.
The thin, distant column wavered in the moonlight, its top dissolving in the air. Sometimes it was scarcely visible. As eleven o’clock drew near, they watched it with growing suspense. The smoke in the southwest had long since died away. For twenty minutes or so before the hour the boys fancied that the column was losing somewhat in volume. Eleven o’clock came—five—ten minutes after eleven and nothing happened. Gordon looked puzzled. “I—I guess, maybe, Red Deer’s watch is wrong,” he said.
“Look!” shouted Harry, jumping to his feet.
The thread of smoke had suddenly expanded into a dense mass. They could see it plainly now.
“We’ve found them! We’ve found them!” shouted Gordon.
“When our young hero gets over his fit,” said Harry, “I will gently remind him that we have not found them at all. There is something going on up in that direction—there seems to be a fire. That’s all we know.” But they watched the thickening mass intently. “Well,” said Harry, “we may as well obey the rule, Kid; let’s turn in. In the morning we’ll cut up through Crown Point village and camp on high ground to-morrow night.”
“No, sir! We’ll go straight—”
“Where?”
“To that—to camp.”
“Yes, but where?”