on, meaning to surprise him when finally he chose to
explain it all. So Max did not attempt to interfere, but let things go
on as they were doing, satisfied that the answer to the conundrum would
soon come.

"Steal your outfit from you?" echoed Steve, when he could catch his
breath; "do you mean that you're carrying on some sort of business,
then, up here in the woods?"

"Reckon that's about right, Steve," Obed replied, and his familiar use
of the other's name could be easily explained by that spirit of "free
masonry" that exists among all boys. "I've got a business, which looks
like it was goin' to pan out right decent, and make me some money in the
bargain. That's why they're meanin' to rob me, I guess; anyhow, it
hinges on that same thing. And I thought you might be that crowd first,
but I soon saw I was mistaken, and that you'd be my friend."

"But what sort of business is it you're in, Obed?" asked Steve, boldly.

"Me? Oh! I'm only a farmer," confessed the other, chuckling as he spoke.

"A farmer!" echoed Steve, looking blank; "but how could anybody steal
your ground away, or carry off your crops, I'd like to know?"

"Why, yuh don't jest understand, Steve. I ain't no regular hayseed. I'm
a fur farmer, you see; and you could carry my crop of fox pelts away
easy enough on your own back!"

CHAPTER IV

BANDY-LEGS SUSPECTS

Max Hastings smiled. He at the same time drew a breath of relief,
satisfied to know that his first impression of the sturdy looking young
chap was confirmed, and convinced that the said Obed Grimes must be the
right sort of fellow.

Steve and Bandy-legs fairly gasped, as though they had received a real
shock. At the same time the eyes of the former glistened with
newly-awakened interest.

"A fur farmer, do you say, Obed? And raising foxes for the market, are
you?" he burst out with, delightedly. "Now, I've read a heap about that
sort of thing in the papers and magazines, but I never thought I'd
actually run across anybody that had the nerve and confidence to go into
it as a business. And you say you're making good, are you, Obed? That's
fine!"

"I've turned my 'tention to raisin' real black foxes, first thing,"
explained the other, with a touch of genuine pride in his manner, Max
could easily see; "and if the try turns out as profitable as I reckon
she promises to be, why, then, I'm figgerin' on tryin' to raise mink and
marten and sech other furs as fetch top-notch prices."

"