The young man groaned. The ethics of the woods were growing more opaque to his understanding.
“I'll introduce myself more formal,” said the woodsman, apparently with affable intent to be better acquainted with this young man who had shown that he possessed the qualities admired in the forest. “My name is Dan Connick, and these here are my hearties from Number 7 cuttin'.” He waved his hand, and the nearest men growled good-humored greetings.
“Well, Mr. Connick,” said Parker, dryly, “I thank you for the evening's entertainment, and now that you have done your duty to Colonel Ward I suppose I may return to Sunkhaze.” His heart sank as he thought of the poor Swogon weltering in the depths of the lake.
“Oh, ye've got to come along with us!” beamed Connick. “Colonel Ward has sent for ye!”
CHAPTER NINE—UP THE WINDING WAY TO THE “OGRE OF THE BIG WOODS.”
“I have no further business with Colonel Ward at this time,” protested Parker, amazed at Connick's refusal to release him. “Wal, he says you have, an' them's our orders. The men that work for Gid Ward have to obey orders.”
“Your Colonel Ward has already injured me enough,” exclaimed Parker, bitterly, “without dragging me away into the woods fifty or a hundred miles from my duty! I'll not see any more of him.”
“Oh, but ye will, tho!” Connick was grinning, but under his amiability his tones were decisive. “I don't know what he wants to talk with you about, but I reckon it's railroad. We here can't do that with ye. So ye'll have to come along. But we all think you're a smart little man. Ain't that so, hearties?”
The men growled gruff assent.