Ahem" from a point in front
of him, and glancing up hurriedly from his work he discovered a man
standing leaning on a long-barreled rifle and surveying him with a sneer
on his face.

It was the same fellow who had bunked with them and drank their elegant
Java with such gusto--Stackpole, the timber-cruiser.

Eli had not liked his looks when he was in camp, and he certainly saw no
reason to change his mind concerning the fellow now, for Stackpole did
have a piratical appearance when he scowled or looked scornful.

Instinct compelled Eli to reach out his hand for his gun, even while not
removing his eyes from the interloper with the evil cast of features.

When his groping hand failed to connect with the rifle he was compelled
to turn his head quickly and saw, to his dismay, that the gun no longer
occupied the spot where he had placed it.

At the same moment a second man stepped into view, having his own rifle
hung over his shoulder with a strap, while the repeater belonging to
Cuthbert was resting in his grimy hands.

Eli recognized this worthy immediately, nor was he very much surprised
to see him there, since Owen had declared it to be his belief that they
might run across him sooner or later.

He remembered how they had met him some weeks earlier, and also how he
had made up that chart for Cuthbert, for a consideration, which since
that time had proven so very unreliable, and which the Canadian lad
pronounced utterly worthless.

It was Dubois, the greasy woods-ranger, fit comrade for the ungainly and
grinning Stackpole.

He stood there looking at the boy and nodding his head.

"Well, well, if it ain't Eli Perkins alive and in ther flesh! Who'd ever
a thort tew see yer up hyer? I allowed thet p'raps yer boys mighter come
part way, but it does beat all how some fools air taken keer ov. Thank
yer kindly fur this yer purty little gun, Eli. Reckon I kin soon git
ther hang o' the way ye work thet pump bizness. Anyhow, I'm willin' ter
larn. Hold on, now, jest keep yer distance, er somethin' not down on
ther bill'll happen ter ye, boy!" was the way Dubois addressed him.

Of course, Eli felt angry, but he saw that they had him trapped neatly
enough, and he was not the fool the other would try to make out.

At least he had had considerable experience with just such fellows as
these and knew how far one could go in conducting negotiations with
their breed.

Eli had a streak of caution and also a bit of cunning in h