Scott was thinking fast. He had to decide on a course of action and that quickly. Should they try to hide or should they meet this man and trust to his being a stranger? The voice was too close to give them much chance to hide and the owner of it was probably a good woodsman, thoroughly familiar with the country. On the other hand, this man could not have received any notice from the mill and would have no reason to suspect them. He decided to go ahead; he might learn something from this stranger.

He stepped out into the track and walked slowly forward with Murphy at his elbow. They had not gone a dozen paces when they saw two men coming out of the woods on to the track only a short distance ahead of them.

“Thought I heard you over there in the brush,” one of the men explained. “You were so late comin’ that we started out to meet you.”

By this time the man was close enough to recognize his mistake even in that uncertain light. He stopped short and eyed them suspiciously.

“Thought you was some one else,” he growled. “Where might you be from, stranger?”

Scott evaded the question. “We did not know where we were when we ran on to this track. Where does it go?”

“Where you all trying to get to?” the man countered.

“Old St. Joseph town,” Scott said, remembering what Murphy had told him about the terminus of the railroad.

The man still eyed him curiously. “Ain’t no town there now,” he said.

“I know there isn’t,” Scott replied. “We just wanted to size up the harbor. Do you live here?”

“Campin’ here,” the man said, “huntin’.”

“This old railroad go there?” Scott asked.

The man hesitated a moment. “Goes to where the town used to be,” he said reluctantly. “Reckon we’ll walk back with you. Man we were lookin’ fer don’t seem to be comin’.”

“Where was he coming from? I didn’t know anybody ever came out this way.” The other fellow was asking so many questions that Scott felt justified in asking a good many himself.

“Been out huntin’,” the man replied. “Good many deer out this way.”

They moved forward and the two men moved with them. “What’s the railroad for in this wilderness?” Scott asked.

Again the man hesitated so long that Scott thought he was not going to answer at all. He could hardly have helped hearing him.

“Mill cuttin’ up the line haulin’ lumber down to the harbor,” he finally answered, as though he had weighed all the possibilities and decided to try the truth.

“Must be a pretty big outfit to afford a railroad like this,” Scott continued.

“Reckon it is,” the man replied after another pause. He was evidently giving careful thought to his answers.

“Are they located on the river?” Scott asked.

“No,” the man answered promptly, “they are nowhere near the river.” He did not seem to notice that he had practically denied any knowledge of the mill in his previous answer. Scott smiled to himself.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Scott knew they must recognize their Forest Service uniforms when they came to the camp fire, even if they had not already done so, and he was trying to think of some way of accounting for them without arousing suspicion. He finally hit upon a plan which he thought might work.

“We tried to get a boat over from Pensacola,” he said, “but could not find any. So we came over on the train and tried to make it cross country. There did not seem to be any direct way of getting here.” He thought that he could see the man relax a little as though relieved by the information.

“Yonder is our camp fire,” the man said, with a shade of cordiality creeping into his voice. “Better come over and have a cup of coffee.”

Scott knew that they were playing with fire, but he did not see any way out of it. They had neither tents nor provisions with them and were counting on getting back to the bateau and out of the country before morning. He decided to accept the invitation in the hope that he could think up later an excuse for getting away.

“Thanks,” he said, “we’ll sit down for a minute anyway. Walking through this sand is pretty tiresome business.”

The camp fire had burned pretty low but the man tossed on a few pieces of light wood and it immediately flared like a torch. Scott looked curiously around for the tent but there did not seem to be any. It did not seem reasonable that they should be camped there without some means of shelter in a country where rain might be expected any time. The gentle plashing of small waves told him that they were close to the beach of the harbor. Murphy and his companion had observed a complete silence. Each was afraid to talk for fear he would spoil the fairy tale which he knew his friend was building up. But Murphy had been using his eyes and he asked a question now to call Scott’s attention to something which he might not have seen.

“What’s the light out there on the water?”

Scott looked toward the sound of the lapping water and saw a light—the dim light of a lantern—bobbing gently up and down some distance away. He looked inquiringly at the stranger.

“Schooner waiting for lumber, I re............