There he found Mr. Welton
seated comfortably on the verandah, his feet up and a cigar alight.
"This is pretty good medicine," he called to Bob. "Get your feet up, you
long-legged stork, and enjoy yourself. Been exploring?"
"Listening to the band on the plaza," laughed Bob. He drew up a chair.
At that moment the dim figure of California John jingled by. "I wouldn't
like that old fellow's job. He's a ranger, and he's got to go and look
up a forest fire."
"Alone?" asked Welton. "Couldn't they scare up any more? Or are they
over there already?"
"There's three playing poker at the saloon. Looked to me like a fool
way to do. He's just going to take a look and then come back and
report."
"Oh, they're heavy on reports!" said Welton. "Where is the fire; did you
hear?"
"Stone Creek--wherever that is."
"Stone Creek!" yelled Welton, dropping the front legs of his chair to
the verandah with a thump. "Why, our timber adjoins Stone Creek! You
come with me!"
II
Welton strode away into the darkness, followed closely by Bob. He made
his way as rapidly as he could through the village to an attractive
house at the farther outskirts.
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