The man grunted something which might have been thanks as he dropped them into a sack which he carried in his right hand.
“You stayin’ round here?” he demanded.
“Not long. Only over night.”
“Reckon that’s your place back thar.” The man pointed over his shoulder.
“Yes, that’s our cabin.”
“Wall, reckon I’ll be trudgin’,” and, throwing the sack over his shoulder the man started up stream and in a moment was lost to sight in the thick woods.
All the time Jack had been talking with the man he had been searching his memory. Where had he seen that man before? That he had seen him he was sure, for his face as well as his voice was strangely familiar. But try as he might he was unable to place him.
“Guess I’d better catch a couple more to make up for those two,” he thought as he picked up his rod. The fish were as hungry as ever and it was but the work of a few minutes to replenish the string.
“I wonder where that fellow was bound for,” he thought as he again reeled in his line.
Some impulse, which he could not have explained, urged him to follow the man.