I could see now, even better than before, the danger we had been in. I guess everybody in the village thought we were dead, because when we looked away up there it just seemed as if nobody could have escaped out of all that.
“We went out the stage entrance,” Harry said, as the auto rolled up along the main street; “sneaked through the back yard, hey?”
“Oh, I think you’re just marvelous!” one of the girls said.
Harry said to her, “Let it be a lesson to you never to throw a lighted cigar away in the woods.”
“Oh, the idea!” she said; “I think you’re just horrid. I wouldn’t touch a horrid cigar!”
“Well, don’t throw a good one away, either,” Harry said; “the good ones are just as bad.”
“Aren’t you perfectly terrible!” the other girl said.
But she didn’t think he was terrible.
Anyway, I knew from what he had said that the dark figure we had seen on our way up was probably to blame for the whole business. Cracky, I’ve got nothing to say against cigars, because my father smokes them, but anyway, a cigar isn’t worth as much as a mountain, I should hope. And you bet it was a lesson to us never to throw matches in the woods and always to trample our camp-fires out before we turn in. But, jiminies, I guess all scouts know that.