He raised his eyes automatically to the woods, and started.
"There _is_ something wrong over there," he said breathlessly.

"Look!" "I thee nothing," said Curson, beginning to doubt Low's sanity; "nothing more than I thaw an hour ago." "Look again.

Don't you see that smoke rising straight up?
It isn't blown over from the Divide; it's new smoke! The fire is in the woods!" "I reckon that 'th so," muttered Curson, shading his eyes with his hand.

"But, hullo! wait a minute! We'll get hortheth.

I say!" he shouted, forgetting his lisp in his excitement--"stop!" But Low had already lowered his head and darted forward like an arrow.
In a few moments he had left not only his companion but the last straggling houses of the outskirts far behind him, and had struck out in a long, swinging trot for the disused "cut-off." Already he fancied he heard the note of clamor in Indian Spring, and thought he distinguished the sound of hurrying hoofs on the great highway.