“Looks so to me,” Jack hastened to add.
Through the eddying wreaths of pungent blue wood smoke they could see a pile of stones. It lay on their right, and that was where the widow had told them to search.
“Looks almost as if someone had piled those rocks up, doesn’t it?” said Don Miller, as they stumbled along, and constantly drew nearer the spot that all of them had decided must be the place they were aiming for.
“Perhaps that’s what has been done, partly,” Hugh observed.
“You mean Peter heaped ’em up like that, don’t you?” asked Jack.
“I think that’s about the kind of fellow Peter is,” the scout master replied. “Think of him doing his level best to save those children when their father, who ought to have been at home to look after them, was having a lark in town over night.”
“Peter is a faithful fellow,” remarked Don, “and I’m afraid he leads a pretty hard life of it there with Farmer Barger. When I get back home again, I’m going to see if something can be done for him. He deserves a kinder master, poor chap.”
They were now close to the rocks, and all of them felt thrilled with eagerness to know what the result of their mission was going to be. Would they find the three frightened and weary little Barger children where Peter had entrenched them; or was it possible they had since wandered off into the blackened and smoking forest to meet some dreadful fate?
The piled-up rocks made Hugh shiver to look at them; he thought they seemed so like a cairn or a burial place.
So, raising his voice, the scout master gave a loud shout, his object being to learn the truth, one way or the other. Immediately all of them felt greatly relieved, for above the rocks there suddenly popped into view several tousled heads as the children stared around in search of the one who had brought them new hope.