between the first and
second times that I tripped. Yes, and always in just the same place
too, which was queer enough."

"That sounds kind of encouraging, Bob," declared Frank.

"Do you think so?" asked the other, puzzled to account for Frank's
newly awakened interest. "Tell me why, won't you, please, Frank?"

"Sure, after you have answered me a question," Frank promptly remarked.

"All right, let's have it, then," his chum returned.

"Do you think you could find that exact spot again?" asked Frank.

"Meaning where I sniffed that smoke each time? Why, I guess I can,
because I went back there twice, all right. Couldn't be quite
satisfied that there wasn't _something_ around there I ought to
discover. But it turned out a fizzle, Frank."

"Perhaps it wouldn't be so unkind to me, though," the Western boy
declared. "Take me to that place, Bob, and right away. It strikes me
I'd just like to get another little whiff of that same wood smell,
myself. It wouldn't be the first time I'd followed up a smoke trail."

"Gracious! that sounds interesting, and I hope you can do it, Frank!"
breathed Bob, his admiration for his chum awakening once more.

"First of all, get me to that place. Lead off, and I'll be close at
your heels. And, Bob, don't forget that spot where you came near
having your tumble. Keep your level head about you."

"I'll sure try to, Frank. Come on then."

Bob led the way through the darkness. Although he had been out West
for so short a time Bob Archer was rapidly learning the ways practiced
by those who live close to Nature. He began to observe always all that
he saw, and in such a way that he could describe it again, in every
detail.

And so it chanced that, having marked his course when coming back after
his unsuccessful search for the fire, he was able, not only to lead his
comrade thither, but to warn him every time they approached a dangerous
slide, where a trip might hurl one some hundreds of feet down the face
of Thunder Mountain.

"Here is the place, Frank," Bob suddenly said, in a cautious whisper.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SMOKE TRAIL

"Are you sure of it?" asked Frank, in the same low voice.

"Why, try for yourself, and see if you can't get a whiff of smoke right
now," Bob replied.

"You're right, because I caught it just then; but I reckon the wind
must be changing some, for it's gone again," Frank remarked.

"You never spoke truer words, Frank, because I can hear the