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Fitzhugh, Percy Keese, 1876-1950

"Roy Blakely, Pathfinder"


"Trouble is, a stiff breeze can carry most anything," Harry said; "well,
let's move along and rescue the maidens."
Just then Hunt Manners said, "_Listen!_"
Far off we could hear the whistle of a locomotive and a kind of rattling,
not very clear, but I knew it was the rattling of a train.
"That's 'way over at the Hudson," Harry said; "shows you how far sound will
carry in the night."
Just then I looked at Dorry's scarf that was tied on the stick, and I saw
it was blowing the way we were going--up the mountain.
I said, "That's why we hear the train; the breeze is blowing from the east.
But I can't hear the crackling now."
"Guess the breeze is blowing that up the mountain, too," Harry said.
Then we started up the trail again toward the summit.

CHAPTER XXXVII
A VOICE
It was a jungle of underbrush, that's what Harry said. Pretty soon the
trail just fizzled out in the bushes. We poked around with our lanterns and
found a spring there. I guess the wood between there and the summit must
have been where the party got lost. Sometimes we could hear the crackling
and sometimes we couldn't, but we could smell the burning brush all the
time.


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