The note was delivered, and was found to contain directions for coming up to one of the lumber camps at once. This camp was located twenty miles beyond the village of Munvale, and to get to it they had to take a train northward to the Saginaw River.
"That's quite a little trip in itself," said Dale. "But it will be the last, I suppose, for some time to come."
They had to wait until the middle of the afternoon for a train to the right station. When it did come, it was crowded, and they had to stand up part of the way. But later on the passengers thinned out, and they got a seat together near the end of the car.
At one station several men who looked as if they were lumbermen got aboard, and by their conversation Dale and Owen soon learned that they were bound for a camp not far from that run by John Hoover.
"I'm glad I'm not going to Jack Hoover's outfit," one of the men said, during the course of the conversation.
"You're right, Glassen," said another. "He's a pretty hard taskmaster, and no mistake."
"I understand Henshaw left him last week," put in a third of the crowd. "He said he wasn't going to do two days' work in one day, for any man."
"Hoover never knows when to let up," went on the first speaker. "Three months of it was enough for me. By the way, what became of Risley, who used to be one of his foremen?" And then the talk drifted in another direction.
Dale and Owen looked at each other in a suggestive manner. Then the older of the pair leaned forward.
"Doesn't look encouraging, does it?" he whispered. "I guess you won't thank me for bringing you to this place."