They were many miles away from Chester now, and pretty close to the end of the journey, as Jack informed them.
“We’ll strike the old logging road just above here, you see,” he explained, “and by following it a mile or so we are due to come on the place where I’ve been told we’ll find a dandy camp-site, with running water near by.”
“Lucky for us you managed to get hold of that old map, and copy it, I tell you, Jack,” ventured Steve. “This is certainly a pretty wild country up here, and with mighty few settlers around. I doubt if you could run across a single farm in four square miles of territory.”
“It’s really worse than that, Steve,” admitted 10 the other. “I think you’d have to go three or four miles in any direction before you struck a living soul; and then the chances are it’d only be some wandering timber-cruiser, taking a look at the fine lumber prospects, with a hazy idea that he might be able to strike a bargain with the party who owns all this land up here.”
“If they at one time started in to cut this timber,” said Toby, glancing around at the myriad of lofty trees that stretched their tops toward the sky, “they didn’t get very far before being called off, did they, Jack?”
“I believe the land fell into other hands, and the new owner had no desire to clean it of the timber. So operations stopped. But many an envious eye has been turned in the direction of the Pontico Hills of recent years. They say it carries the finest batch of uncleared land left in the county, if not the whole State.”
“How about that grown-up road ahead of us, Jack,” called out Toby, who had very keen eyesight; “do you reckon now that might be the logging trail we’re looking for?”
“Just what it is, my friend,” chuckled Jack; and upon reaching the spot he forced the horse to make a turn to the right, though the animal seemed a bit loath to obey the pull at the lines, apparently anticipating harder work ahead.
They found it no easy task to push along the road over which the logging teams had once made their way, so overgrown with vines and small saplings 11 had it become. Steadily they advanced, all of them eagerly observing the many interesting things that caught their attention.
“There’s something moving back of that hanging vine, fellows,” suddenly whispered Toby, hoarsely; “and I can’t tell whether it’s a man or a sheep!”