Soon after midnight, Hugh, whose bunk was near the open window of the cabin, was awakened by a faint smell of smoke. A light breeze had sprung up during the night, wafting that pungent, unmistakable odor to his sensitive nostrils. Instantly he sat up and threw aside his blankets.
“Billy,” he whispered hoarsely, “wake up, son!”
There was no response save his assistant’s deep, quiet, peaceful breathing.
Knowing that Billy had a chronic objection to being awakened suddenly, if at all, Hugh was thoughtful enough to respect his friend’s amiable weakness even at this crisis. Leaning over the sleeper, he took Billy’s hand, held it a moment, then pressed it firmly. The result was that Billy stirred comfortably and opened his eyes, without a start or a protest.
“What—what’s the matter?” he drawled sleepily, blinking at Hugh through the darkness.
“I smell smoke,” was the whispered reply. “Billy, do you think a fire has broken out in camp?”
“What! Fire?” Billy sniffed the air. “Say, Hugh, it can’t——”
“S-sh! Not so loud! We don’t want to wake up the whole cabin. Come outside. If anything’s happened, we must act at once, or at least give warning.”
“Wonder where it is coming from? Hope it isn’t a fire in the woods! That would be more than——” Suddenly he remembered his conversation with the tenderfoot about the dryness of the grass, and coupled it with a warning which the Scout Master had given them that very day, concerning the danger of starting forest fires.
“It is criminal to leave a burning fire,” Denmead had said. “Always put out a fire with water or earth. A fire is never out until the last spark is extinguished. Often a log or snag will smoulder unnoticed after the flames have apparently been trodden down, only to break out afresh with a rising wind.”