"There's something moving away below there in the shadow of the trees on the water!" exclaimed Thad.
"A log, p'raps," remarked the other, carelessly.
"But I did see a face, I'm sure of it; and if it was a man he just jumped into his skiff and put off before I could get out. I wish I knew for sure."
Thad made a move toward the little dinghy which lay upon the deck, fastened with a chain and padlock, so that it could not be stolen by any light-fingered coon.
"Hold on there, none of that. Let me catch you chasing down-river after an unknown man in a skiff. Why, he'd just as like as not upset you if you accused him of boarding our boat. Settle down and try to forget it all. I reckon it was only imagination after all."
But Thad continued to shake his head, and declare that he did not believe his eyes could play him such a trick.
"If it was a man, Maurice, and he once saw all that money, why he'd come back again to try and steal it," he said, solemnly.
"Oh, I guess not," laughed his chum, holding up the gun in a suggestive way; "at least not as long as we could defend our property with this bully old shooter. But better make up your mind it was a log, and let it go at that."
"Wish I could," grumbled Thad, shaking that stubborn head: of his.
"Well, how about that trapping expedition—plenty of steel in sight, and a nice fat young ringtail would be just the boss dish tomorrow. Anything doing?"