“May be j-jest as well,” says Mark. “We’ll f-find him to-morrow or n-next day. I got a notion I know where he is right now, or where he will be when he lands out of his boat.”
“Where?” says I.
“Big Hole Island,” says he.
“Maybe so. But what was he doin’ here?”
“Come d-down after grub. Been doin’ it every night. It was him we almost caught in the mill when we saw the light.”
It was clear enough now, but such a mixed-up business as it was a few minutes before I never heard of. I never would have got it figured out, but Mark was good at that kind of thing, which was lucky.
“Better go home now,” says he, “and get a night’s s-s-sleep. We’ll start up the river for George Piggins to-morrow.”
“Better stay in town,” says Silas Doolittle. “There’s trouble at the mill. All our men but two has quit work.”
“What for?” says Mark.
“Claim they been offered better jobs,” says Silas.