"How far do we go?"
"How far?"
"Yes," cried the young engineer impatiently, not relishing the apparent obtuseness of the man outlined before him.
"Excuse me," said the man; "I was in a brown study and did not catch on to your remark. If you will please repeat it, I will then try to answer."
"Aren't you the gentleman who sent the note?"
"Certainly."
"Then you must know how far it is to the place where Silas Keene is lying wounded and dying."
"Certainly I do. Mr. Keene is about four miles from your place, at a small cabin in the woods—"
"Indeed! How did he come to be in such a place?"
"He was on somebody's trail."