Suddenly she cried aloud and seized Tom more tightly.
"Cracky! Don't choke a fellow!" he coughed.
"Oh, Tom!"
"Well"
"I think I see it."
"The tree that smoked?" asked her cousin.
"Yes. There!"
For the moment it seemed as though the downpour lightened.
Veiled by the still falling water a straight stick rose high in
the air ahead of them. Tom chirruped to the horses and made
them, though unwilling, go forward.
They dragged the heavy cart unevenly. Through the heavy downpour
the trail was hard to follow, and once in a while a rear wheel
bumped over a stump, and Nan was glad to drop down upon the
tongue again, and cling more tightly than ever to her cousin's
collar.
"Sure that's it?" queried Tom, craning his neck to look up into
the tall, straight tree.
"I, I'm almost sure," stammered Nan.
"I, don't, see, any, smoke," drawled Tom, with his head still
raised.
The rain had almost ceased, an intermission which would not be
of long duration. Nan saw that her cousin's prophecy had been
true; the ground actually smoked after the downpour. The sun-
heated sawdust steamed furiously. They seemed to be crossing a
heated cauldron. Clouds of steam rose all about the timber cart.
"Why, Tommy!" Nan choked.
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