"What? Who said that?" demanded Hippy.
A man stepped out from the shadow of the trees and stood confronting the peering Overlanders.
"It's Lo, the poor Indian!" cried Hippy. "Hello, Lo!"
"So it is," agreed Tom. "How did you get here ahead of us?"
"Come 'cross," answered the man, indicating with a gesture that he bad taken a short cut through the woods, though how he knew where they were going, unless he had heard their discussion at the point where they took the right-hand road, the Overlanders could not imagine.
"You say this is 'no good' as a camping place. What is the matter with it?" demanded Tom Gray, regarding the Indian suspiciously.
"No water. You come, me show."
"Let him lead the way," suggested Elfreda.
"Yes. Give the poor red man a chance," urged Hippy.
The Indian, without asking further permission to lead them, turned and trotted along ahead at a typical Indian lope, and at a rate of speed that necessitated putting the ponies at a jog-trot in order to keep him in view. The Indian proceeded on for fully half a mile, then, turning sharply to the left, led them on until he reached the bank of a stream, to which he pointed as indicating their camping place.