"Oh, some hand from the Merwell ranch, I suppose. He didn't seem to be very sociable. He kept his head turned away all the time Link was talking to us."
"If he's from the Merwell place, they can't have very nice fellows up there."
"Well, who would want to work for a man like Mr. Merwell? He and Link are just alike, dictatorial and mean."
The two boys kept on for a short distance further. Then Phil caught his foot in a tree root and went sprawling.
"Wow!" he spluttered, as he arose. "Hi, Dave, wait for me!" he added, for his chum had continued on the run.
"What's wrong?"
"I tripped and fell—just as I was afraid I'd do. Better go slow—unless you want to break an ankle or skin your nose."
"The storm is coming," said Dave, as he came to a stop. "Much hurt?"
"Not very,—scratched my hand, that's all. Phew! listen to the wind!"
The sky overhead was black with clouds, but to the north and the south were great patches of light. The wind was increasing steadily.
"Maybe it will be more wind than rain," said Dave. "I hope so, too, for I have no fancy for getting drenched to the skin."
