“It sure is.”
“Regular old blizzard—just as you said.”
Dan seized his brother’s arm suddenly, and held it tight. “What d’ye know about that, Billy?” he asked, pointing with his free hand into the tops of the snow-masked trees above them.
There was a faint, rosy glow just above the tree-tops on the high hogback of the island. This dim, ghostly light was twenty feet above the ground, at least, and all of forty feet above the ice where the two boys stood.
“That—that beats me!” chattered Billy.
“What does it look like?”
“A fire in the air.”
“Isn’t that just about where you thought you saw the smoke that other day?”
“I bet you!” gasped Billy. “A fire in the air,” he repeated.
“No. The reflection in the air of a fire, I grant you,” Dan chuckled.