“Trust me!” chuckled the cheery foreman.
Sam had drawn a little apart from his friends and was glancing keenly about him. At that hour, of course, the choppers were at work, probably at some distance from the camp, but other employees might be in or near the cabin. Already he had observed a fat man peering from the door of the ell. That would be the cook, no doubt. The jingle of bells told him that his father was resuming the journey, and his ears warned him that Mr. Kane was shepherding his flock of guests indoors.
Sam was as chilled and stiff from the long ride as were his friends, but he still lingered at his post of observation. It was no more than a chance, at the best, that Orkney, if he had come to the woods, was at this especial camp; but Sam was making the most of the chance. In full session of the club it had been decided that, if the runaway were discovered, Sam should first reason with him in private, falling back, if necessary, upon the support of the others.
Except where a clearing had been made for the camp, and where ran the narrow tote road, towered tall pines, doomed to fall as the choppers worked their way from the borders of the tract to its center. Here the snow had fallen deep and without drifts, such as the travelers had seen in the more open country. Sam shivered a little. The cheerful and vociferous boss had followed his charges into the cabin, and, of a sudden, the watcher was oppressed by the silence and the loneliness of the woods. Instinctively he took a step toward the main door of the camp; halted; listened intently. Then he heard again, and with certainty, the sound which he had half believed a trick of imagination. It was the crunch of dry snow under a hurrying foot.
Sam strode forward. As he turned the corner of the building, he caught sight of a figure moving obliquely toward the runner tracks leading to No. 2 camp. In spite of the low-drawn cap and the rough Mackinaw he recognized Orkney.
“Slipped out of a back door, and around the other side of the camp and started for another get-away,” he reflected. “Bound not to be seen, if he can help it. Thunder, but he is as stubborn as they make ’em!”
Orkney was in haste, but Sam pursued still more rapidly. The tote road bent sharply to avoid a great boulder. Orkney vanished around the bend, without giving evidence that he suspected he was followed; but when Sam passed the big rock, and thus shut himself from view from the camp, he beheld Orkney, faced about and standing defiantly in the middle of the road.
Sam, too, pulled up. For a moment neither boy spoke. Sam advanced a pace. Orkney contented himself with holding his ground.
“Well, what do you want?” he growled.
“You,” was Sam’s terse response.