“You’re crazy,” he said, all excited. “You can see the chimney even, and the roof isn’t in line with it!”
I said, “All right, don’t call me crazy, call the smoke crazy. I didn’t do it, did I?”
“Just the same that’s mighty funny,” Warde said.
“Sure,” I said; “if it wasn’t funny it wouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t get rattled,” Hervey said, “we’re here; we’re just where we were. Don’t lose your morale.”
“I lost my potatoes,” Willie Cook piped up.
“Pee-wee’s eating one of them,” I said.
There sat Scout Harris, with black all around his mouth, munching a roasted potato and staring off to the west with eyes as big as saucers.
I have to admit it was funny. When we had first seen that roof it was between us and the smoke from camp, maybe half-way. It seemed as if it might be on the road at the western edge of the woods.
Across that road were more woods and in those farther woods was the camp. Now the smoke was rising to the left of the roof. It might have been partly on account of the smoke blowing and partly on account of our being dizzy, that’s what I thought.