"No."
"Then you'll not get work in the woods this side of hell."
He moved on at once, and the blacksmith followed him into the shop. I was left standing in the midst of the other men, who had listened intently, and were now soberly enjoying the quality of that bon mot, and were eyeing me in leisurely curiosity.
Again I appealed to Achilles:
"Is there another camp near here?"
"There's Long's Camp, a quarter of a mile up the run," and a slight inclination of his head indicated the way.
Mr. Long did not want me, and knew of no one who might, if I was not wanted at Wolf Run, unless, on second thought, I could get a job at Fitz-Adams's Camp.
"And where is that?" I asked.
"You remember a road which forked to the left about two mile back as you came up from English Centre?"
"Yes."