“Whew!” exclaimed Buckden, suddenly pausing and wiping the perspiration from his face. “We did that in fine shape, did we not, Barney?”
“To be shure, sor,” replied the Celt with a chuckle.
“Now what shall we do?”
“Shure, I think we had betther thry and foind the Stheam Man,” said Barney.
“Of course, but how shall we proceed to do that?”
“Well, bejabers, I think the bist way is to make a cut through the woods here and thrust to good fortune to foind Misther Frank out on the open ground. I’m thinkin’ he’ll ’ave to return there afther lavin’ this place, for shure.”
“All right,” agreed Buckden. “Fortunately I know a path that will lead directly there. In fact, I came here by it.”
“That’s good luck!” cried Barney, joyfully. “It’s dyin’ I am to get back to the Stheam Man once more.”
“Well, we will try it hard!” declared Buckden, leading the way. “Come on, Barney.”
They set out through the forest without further comment.