She came to the door to bid him good-by and stood watching him as he went down the path to the gate. The morning mist lay heavy in the little valley and stretched upward in wreaths over the hills. The air was cold, so that he turned up his coat-collar and walked very briskly. Once he looked back and saw that Linda Ingmarsson had come out to the gate and stood leaning over it almost as though she were about to call him back. She made no sign, however, so he turned once more and walked on toward the station. He found that he was early, that the little building was still locked and that he must sit down on the narrow bench at the edge of the platform and wait. The mist lifted, little by little, until he began to see the miles of blue water, the hills and the vast unbroken forest sweeping down to the water’s edge. How would it be, he thought with a shudder, to be lost in that unending maze of green?
Presently he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and around the corner of the building. He glanced up quickly and saw that it was Jethro Brown again, wearing a dingy straw hat on the back of his head and carrying a suitcase. He loitered at the other end of the platform and would not have come near, but Hugh arose from his seat and went straight to him.
“You must tell me,” he said, “why you thought I was the only one to carry that news to Oscar Dansk. I have thought of nothing else all night.”
Jethro flushed.
“I shouldn’t ever have spoken of it at all,” he stammered, “I don’t know what possessed me. I just got to thinking and felt that something ought to be done, that some one ought to go. But I should not have come to you, of course you couldn’t do it.”
“If I did go,” Hugh persisted, “how would I ever find the way?”
He did not really know himself why he asked the question.
The other turned and pointed.
“You would follow that road to the top of the hill and where it ends you would find a trail that runs across the range of forest beyond. It leads to a little Chippewa village on Two Rivers; there’s an Indian boy there, Shokatan, who could guide you the rest of the way. He got to be quite a friend of mine when he came in to the Indian school near here and he knows English, though he probably won’t be willing to speak it now. I could give you a letter and I know he would help you.”
It was plain that Jethro had thought it all out.