“What is it?” asked Thad, in a whisper.
“Let’s laugh a little, out loud, so they won’t be suspicious,” said the other; and after that clever dodge had been carried out, he went on to add: “you didn’t believe what he said about that name, did you, Thad?”
“I certainly don’t believe he’s the man we’re looking for up here,” came the answer.
“That’s right,” Allan went on, “and I know he’s a fraud. He wants to get hold of anything we have that’s worth taking. That gun of Step Hen’s seems to just take his eye.”
“Do you know who he is?” demanded Thad.
“I can give a pretty close guess, now that we heard the name of his companion, Pierre Laporte,” said Allan. “Some men down at the post where we got the mules told me to look out for a half-breed by that name, who kept company with an even worse scoundrel named Hank Dodge. And this is Hank, all right, make up your mind to that, Thad.”
“Rascal is written big all over his face, I can see,” the other went on. “But what is their line—just plain scamps, or timber cruisers?”
“There are different kinds of timber scouts or cruisers, they tell me,” Allan continued. “Some are honest men, working for honest lumber dealers. Others spy out rich tracts on Government land, which the big company of thieves they’re hired by, want to cut next winter. The Government loses millions on millions every year that way. And these crafty fellows are up here looking for timber that can be easily stolen and marketed next winter.”
“What had we better do?” asked Thad. “It wouldn’t be safe for us to spend the night in camp with them.”
“I should say not,” replied Allan earnestly. “If we go in the ordinary way the chances are they’ll jump on us. So I suppose we might as well up and tell them we know who they are, and that we don’t propose staying any longer in their company.”