The driver cracked his whip and the load went on, swaying and creaking as it left the soft sand for the corduroy.
A little further on Billy came face to face with Hinter. "How are you, Billy?" spoke the man, pleasantly. "Still driving the cows down to the lake for water, I see."
"Yep; they don't seem to take to the crick water," Billy replied. "It's sort of scummy an' smells queer."
Hinter laughed constrainedly. "I've been pretty well through the Settlement, and most of the creeks are like that," he replied. "What do you suppose causes that scum and that peculiar odor?" he asked, casually.
The boy shook his head. "I dunno; them cricks shouldn't be that way; they're all spring-fed. Maybe you know?" looking straight into Hinter's eyes.
"No," said Hinter, startled at the directness of look and question. "I don't know."
He turned abruptly away to follow the wagons but Billy's voice stopped him.
"Mr. Hinter, where did that stuff on them wagons come from?"
"Why, it belongs to Mr. Scroggie," Hinter answered. "It was brought across from Ohio by schooner. You know what it is, I suppose?"
"I take it it's machinery an' stuff for a saw-mill," answered Billy moodily. "Is it?"