CHAPTER XXV.
THE TELLTALE CROW.
For the most part, however, the scouts saved their breath and spoke but little. They were straining every effort to reach Bendigo Lake, the only body of water of sufficient size to offer protection from the conflagration. Every creek and pond hole in the neighborhood, which either of them knew about, was low now, and none were big enough to promise safety. In Bendigo Lake was a long, narrow island, wooded to be sure; but the lake was so wide that the scouts believed the flames would not leap from the shore to the island.
“At any rate, it’s our best play, Buffler. No doubt of that,” observed Texas Jack.
“Right you are, Texas,” panted the other. “Pick up your feet!”
“That fire’s certainly racing to overtake us.”
“Ha! What’s that?” muttered Cody, suddenly turning to look up a small slope which was more heavily wooded than the lowland through which they were passing.
There had been a movement in the brush. The wind did not affect the leaves and branches down here; it was only the tree tops that swayed and sang in the breeze.
“A deer, eh?” panted Jack.
“There!”