“Don’t look much like Broadway,” laughed the visitor.
“There aren’t many dances,” said Brent.
The visitor laughed heartily—a friendly, appreciative laugh. “Well, I’m not likely to bother you much,” he said. “I’m going to chalk up some trees around Brundige Mountain, then maybe I’ll drop in here to-morrow, and, if you don’t mind, I’ll make a headquarters here for a few days—just bunk in a corner.”
“You can have the bridal suite in the lean-to,” said Brent. “Nothing is too good for Uncle Sam.”
“Father Knickerbocker you mean,” said Tom.
“Guess that old guy means New York City, doesn’t he?” the conservation man asked, rising, “or maybe he stands for the state at that,” he added, giving his khaki trousers a perfunctory brushing.
“Well, the state conservation bunch can bunk in here any time,” Tom said heartily.
“Do you do cross-word puzzles?” Brent asked.
“’Fraid not,” the visitor laughed. “Well, I’ll see you later.”
“How’s the work going on over there?” Tom asked.