We do not intend that our camp shall be over-conspicuous." Tom said his good-bye and, mounting, rode away and disappeared in the forest.

Grace stirred up the fire and added fresh wood so that her companions might have warmth, for the morning was chill, and then called them.
Spirals of smoke were rising above the trees from the campfire.

Joe Shafto looked up at it, and shook her head disapprovingly.
"If there's one low-down jack within fifty mile of us on high ground, he'll have us spotted for certain," she rebuked.

"Great fire--great smoke for Indian signaling." "Thank you.

I had not thought of the smoke," answered Grace.