Owen slept "with one eye open" that night, and long before the sun was up he had dressed and was on his way to Tunley railroad station. Only a few of the loggers were astir, and all the locomotives on the little yard line were still housed for the night. Not wishing to walk the entire distance, the young lumberman persuaded a stable hand to loan him a horse for a couple of hours.
"All right, Webb, you can have him, but be sure and come back before the whistle blows," said the hostler, and Owen promised.
A ride on horseback in the cool, bracing mountain air of the early morning just suited the young lumberman, and he made good time down to Tunley station. Here he found the station master just opening up for business. He had a pouch of letters going out on the train, and after stamping Owen's communications placed them among the rest. Then the train came along, and the pouch sped on its long journey eastward.
Feeling that he had no time to spare, Owen started without delay for the camp again. He was still half a mile from where he had procured the horse, when he saw a well-dressed man coming toward him, down the creek trail. The man was also on horseback, and as he came closer Owen recognized Ulmer Balasco.
The young lumberman had no desire just then to meet his employer, and had he had the opportunity he would have taken to a side path. But there was no chance to do this, and in a moment more Ulmer Balasco confronted him.
"Hullo; where have you been?" demanded the part owner of the camp, frowning.
"I've been down to Tunley," answered Owen. "Had a little errand there."
"For your foreman?"
"No, sir; for myself."
"Hum!" The frown on Ulmer Balasco's face deepened. "Is that your horse?"