A couple of sniffs of it was enough of an explanation -- it was smoke! Our game was up at last.

We recognized that.

When smoke invites you, you have to come.

They raised their pile of dry brush and damp weeds higher and higher, and when they saw the thick cloud begin to roll up and smother the tree, they broke out in a storm of joy-clamors.

I got enough breath to say: "Proceed, my liege; after you is manners." The king gasped: "Follow me down, and then back thyself against one side of the trunk, and leave me the other.