uld land him at Fort Harmony in due time.

Owen had not changed his mind since the preceding night, when he
asserted so positively that it was his opinion, judging from what he
knew of the relations existing between this rover of the mighty woods
and the chief factor of the region, Stackpole would hardly turn up at
the post, since there had long been bad blood between these men, and the
cruiser was too shrewd to put himself in the power of so strenuous an
enemy as the grim old Scotch trading master, who ruled affairs in this
stretch of country as though he were king.

"I think he only started in that direction to blind us; and that after
going a mile or less he will break off the trail and head where he was
aiming for last night when he saw our fire, and thought there might be
something worth picking up here, or else keep watch of our movements,"
said Owen, as he pulled the cords tight around the bag that held the
waterproof tent, while the others were doing the same duty for the
smaller bags in which food and extra clothes had been thrust.

Cuthbert chuckled as though greatly tickled.

"Well, if that was his hope, I'm afraid he was bitterly disappointed in
his calculations, that's all. We kept him under cover, all right, and
perhaps he's mentally kicking himself now over having wasted so many
hours peeping out from under that hat brim when he might just as well
have been snoozing."

Eli professed to be greatly disappointed, for he remarked dejectedly:

"Thought I might get a chance to try your gun, and I had just made up my
mind like which leg I'd pepper if he tried to sneak anything away. Well,
p'raps we may run across the critter again, and I'll just keep it in
mind that it was the left leg I chose--he's got somewhat of a limp in
the right one now, and you see that'd sort of even things up. I don't
like to see a lopsided feller nowadays."

"Yes, I believe you're something of a philanthropist, Eli, always
looking out to do somebody good, even if you have to force it into them
with a hypodermic syringe or a shotgun. For my part, I don't care if we
never set eyes on old Stack again, for I fancy the fellow mighty little.
There is something about his eyes that goes against my grain, a shifty
look that you see in a wolf. He's welcome to all he stowed away, but I
hope he doesn't fancy he has a standing invitation to drop in frequently
to supper."

CHAPTER IX.

TRAPPER LORE.

While the other two boys were