ybreak Vernon left the camp, and when he reached the pool walked
round its edge and then sat down and lighted his pipe. A few yards in
front, a number of faint marks were printed on a belt of sand. By and by
he heard steps, and frowned when Winter came out from an opening in the
row of trunks. They were friends, and Bob was a very good sort, but
Vernon would sooner he had stopped away.

"Hallo!" he said. "Why have you come along?"

"I lost my hunting-knife," Winter replied. "It was hooked to my belt and
I thought the clip let go when we helped Miss Hyslop over the big log. A
bully knife; I wanted to find the thing." He paused and smiled when he
resumed: "I reckon you pulled out of camp to meditate?"

Vernon hesitated. Had Winter stopped a few yards off, he would have
begun some banter and drawn him away from the pool. Bob was a woodsman
and his eyes were keen. The sun was, however, rising behind the pines
and a beam of light touched the sand. There was no use in trying to hide
the marks. In fact, Vernon imagined Bob had seen them.

"No," he said. "I thought I'd try to trail the wolf Miss Hyslop talked
about."

"Looks as if you'd found some tracks," Winter remarked. "Well, they're
not a wolf's." He sat down opposite Vernon. "A man's! I saw another at a
soft spot. He followed the girls from the lake and stopped for some
time. I allow I reckoned on something like that."

Vernon made an experiment. "Might have been a packer going to a logging
camp, or perhaps an Indian."

"Shucks!" said Winter, although he gave Vernon a sympathetic smile.
"There are no Indians about the lake and packers' boots don't make marks
like those. A city boot and a city man! A fellow who's wise to the bush
lifts his feet. Anyhow, I reckon he doesn't belong to your crowd."

"A sure thing!" Vernon agreed. "I can fix where all the boys were.
Besides, if somebody in our lot had wanted to talk to Miss Hyslop, he
wouldn't have hung around in the woods. My mother's pretty fastidious
about her guests. Well, I'll own up the thing bothers me."

Winter nodded. Harry was frank and honest, and Bob imagined he had felt
Barbara Hyslop's charm. He was sorry for Harry. The thing was awkward.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"To begin with, I'm going to hide these tracks. After all, I don't see
much light. I suppose I ought to tell my mother and put Mrs. Cartwright
wise; but I won't. Spying on a girl and telling is mean. All the same,
I'm