The stranger did not say which train, but the boys took it for granted that he referred to the freight train which had been held up by the boulder blocking the way.
“Why didn’t you go to the campfire instead of coming to the boat?” asked Clay, suspiciously. “It was nearer to the fire, and you must have seen it, for the train stopped near the ridge that leads to it.”
“I was over there,” replied the boy, hesitatingly, “but I didn’t like the appearance of things, so I came on and happened on your car.”
“What is your notion of those men at the fire?” asked Clay.
“I think they may be outlaws.”
“Just what I think!” Alex shouted. “Clay thinks they are hunters, but he’s weak-minded sometimes! What makes you think they are outlaws?” he continued, determined to have his own impression of the men sustained by an eye-witness.
“Because I heard some talk about fleeing from justice.”
“There!” cried Alex nudging Clay. “Now will you be good? I’m glad we got out of that locality just as we did, for I believe some one saw me taking a snapshot and followed us.”
“I think you are dreaming,” Clay laughed, but the stranger gave a startled glance about and crouched closer in the corner where he sat.
The boys noted his shrinking attitude and looked at each other significantly. Just why he should show terror at the mention of the men in camp was a matter which they would, they thought, inquire into later.