A big machine swept into view by this time, and both men left the shack and walked toward it.
The car was of the roadster type, and was occupied by one man, who, instantly he caught sight of Nash and Hooker, lifted a questioning shout:
“Hello! That you, Hooker?”
Hooker stifled an exclamation, and hurried forward, Nash following calmly. The man in the car had stepped out and was talking hurriedly to the foreman. As Nash came up, standing within the white glow of the twin headlights, Hooker turned.
“Guess you two gentlemen are acquainted, aren’t you?” he said, smiling.
Nash looked steadily into the stranger’s face.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the honor,” he answered.
Hooker turned swiftly to the other. “Why, you surely know Nash, don’t you?”
“Can’t say as I’ve ever met him before,” was the reply.
Hooker fell back as if some one had struck him across the face.