"I thought that was a cloud," said Jack. "I wonder what it means?"

"That some hunters are making a fire to cook with," volunteered
Donald.

"Of course that is it," agreed Rand. "You can always depend upon
old Solomon to knock the romance out of anything."

"Well, I don't know," continued Jack. "It looks queer to me."

"Oh, everything looks queer to you," argued Donald. "You are always
seeing mysteries."

"Yes," retorted Jack, "and you can't see them until they come up
to you and hit you over the head. I've got more than half a notion
to go there and see what it is. Any of you want to go?"

"Not I," replied Rand. "It's a good two miles up there, if it is
one, and my curiosity isn't strong enough to carry me that far."

"Nor I," added Donald. "I can find all the trouble I want without
going to the top of the mountain hunting for more."

"Trouble," said Jack. "Now, who said anything about trouble?"

By this time they had reached the shore and, jumping out of the
boat, dragged it up on the beach.

"Now," called Rand, when they had landed, "who wants to be cook?
Don't all speak at once."