This time he looked significantly at Dick without
speaking a word.
"Ah!" exclaimed Dick. I thought his tone sounded queer, but it did not at
the moment strike me forcibly. We rode on. The forest became lighter,
glimpses of sky showed low down through the trees, we were nearing a slope.
For the third time the old hunter brought us to a stop, this time on the
edge of a slope that led down to the rolling foot-hills. I could only stand
and gaze. Those open stretches, sloping down, all green and brown and
beautiful, robbed me of thought.
"Look thar!" cried Hiram Bent.
His tone startled me. I faced about, to see his powerful arm outstretched
and his finger pointing. His stern face added to my sudden concern.
Something was wrong with my friends. I glanced in the direction he
indicated. There were two rolling slopes or steps below us, and they were
like gigantic swells of a green ocean. Beyond the second one rose a long,
billowy, bluish cloud. It was smoke. All at once I smelled smoke, too. It
came on the fresh, strong wind.
"Forest fire!" exclaimed Dick.
"Wal, I reckon," replied Hiram, tersely. "An' look thar, an' thar!"
Far to the right and far to the left, over the green, swelling foot-hills,
rose that rounded, changing line of blue cloud.
"The slash! the slash! Buell's fired the slash!" cried Dick, as one suddenly
awakened.
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