He turned and saw a tiny spiral, white as a
mist, rise from a forest ridge--not from the one nearest him, but from
the one beyond it. It looked strange to see smoke in the wild forest,
but it might be that a mountain stock farm lay over yonder, and the
women were boiling their morning coffee.
It was remarkable the way that smoke increased and spread! It could not
come from a ranch, but perhaps there were charcoal kilns in the forest.
The smoke increased every moment. Now it curled over the whole mountain
top. It was not possible that so much smoke could come from a charcoal
kiln. There must be a conflagration of some sort, for many birds flew
over to the nearest ridge. Hawks, grouse, and other birds, who were so
small that it was impossible to recognize them at such a distance, fled
from the fire.
The tiny white spiral of smoke grew to a thick white cloud which rolled
over the edge of the ridge and sank toward the valley. Sparks and flakes
of soot shot up from the clouds, and here and there one could see a red
flame in the smoke. A big fire was raging over there, but what was
burning? Surely there was no large farm hidden in the forest.
The source of such a fire must be more than a farm. Now the smoke came
not only from the ridge, but from the valley below it, which the boy
could not see, because the next ridge obstructed his view.
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