"It's several miles from here," was the reply. "Guess Joe Bandy will take you along in his rig."
Joe Bandy proved to be the mail carrier, who drove a two horse wagon through the lumber region of the vicinity. He agreed to take Robert along for the usual fare, thirty-five cents. Soon they were on the way.
"Come out to try your luck?" questioned the mail carrier, with a grin.
"No, I came out on business."
"Say, you can't be the lawyer Mr. Marden is expectin'," went on the mail carrier, with a look at the valise.
"No, I'm no lawyer," laughed Robert. "But I am a friend to Mr. Marden. How is Mr. Amberton?"
"Doin' poorly. Those land sharks are worrying him to death. They want to take his timber from him," answered Bandy.
They passed over several hills and through a heavy forest, and then made a sharp turn to the left. Presently a well-built cabin came into sight.
"There is Amberton's hang-out," said the driver, and drew up.
"Hullo, Robert!" came a voice from behind some trees, and Dick Marden rushed forth. His face wore a broad smile and he almost broke the bones of Robert's fingers, so hearty was his hand shake. "How are you, lad—well? And did you get that map?"