THE SEVEN LUMBER-JACKS
crossed the tote-road since the rain, and while I waited he slipped away like a shadow into the wild raspberry growth, returning twenty minutes later with the buck upon his shoulders. As a hunter and a quiet mover in the woods, November can rarely have been surpassed.
On reaching Camp C, November sold his deer to the cook, and then we went to the office. The men were all away at work but we found the manager, to whom November told his news. I noticed, however, he said nothing of his idea that there had been but one robber.
"That just spells total failure," remarked Close when he had finished.
November assented. "Guess we'll have to wait till another chap is held up," said he.
"You think they'll try their hand at it again?"
"Sure. Who'd stop after such success?"
"I'd be inclined to agree with you, if it wasn't for the fact that the men won't leave singly now. They're scared to. A party of six started this afternoon. They were hoping they'd have the luck to meet the scoundrels, and bucking how they'd let daylight into them if they did.
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