not joking when he
labeled him as hailing from so primitive a settlement as Moose River.
To these qualities there was added the easy grace of a man of the
world in the pink of condition. Only his dark gray pepper-and-salt
clothes--they had been purchased in Utica the day before--confirmed
Randall's diagnosis, and even these fitted him in a way that showed
both his good taste and his common sense. The introductions over and
the party seated, Randall turned again to his friend.

"I worried about you, Billy; what happened?"

"Oh, we had a washout just this side of Utica, and the train was
nearly three hours late. But I had no trouble," he said with a quiet
smile. "I came down a-foot--let's see--Fourth Avenue, isn't it? As
soon as I saw the Park I knew I was on the right trail," he laughed,
his white teeth gleaming in contrast with his nut-brown skin.

"Oh, I'd trust you anywhere in the world, trail or no trail. That's
the way you got me out of Bog Eddy that night, and that's the way you
saved Sam Thayor. He's coming, you know. Wants to meet you the worst
kind. I'm keeping you for a surprise, but he'll hug himself all over
when he finds out it's you."

The young man raised his eyes in doubt.

"Thayor? I don't know as I--"

"Why, of course you remember the Thayors, Billy! They were at Long
Lake three or four summers ago."

"Oh! a short, thick-set man, with grayish hair?" replied Holcomb in
his low, well-modulated voice--the voice of a man used to the silence
of the big woods. "Let's see," he mused--"wasn't it he that cut
himself so badly with an axe over at Otter Pond? Yes, I remember."

"So does Thayor, Billy, and it'll be a good many years before he
forgets it," declared Jack. "You saved his life, he says. That's one
thing he wants to see you for, and another is that he's played out and
needs a rest."

"Bless me!" cried Brompton in the tragic tones of his profession. "You
saved his life, me boy?"

Holcomb, for the first time, appeared embarrassed.

"Well, that's mighty good of him to think so, but I didn't do much,"
he replied modestly. "Now I come to think of it, he was badly cut and
I helped him down to Doc' Rand's at Bog River. That was, as I figure
it, about three years ago--wasn't it, Randall?"

"You mean," returned Randall, "that you took him down on your back,
and if you hadn't Sam Thayor would have bled to death."

"Bless my soul!" cried the actor.

"Well, you see," continued Holcomb ignoring the