lage of Medwell. At Medwell they had taken the stage
to Barton's Corners, and at this point had hired a private conveyance to
carry them and their outfit to Timber Run.

At the time of which I write Timber Run was nothing more than a
collection of a dozen houses, strung along a branch of the Perch River,
where that stream turned the southern slope of a high hill known as Bald
Top. There was a general store here and also an office belonging to the
Timber Run Lumber Company. But business with the company was slow, and
the village, consequently, was almost destitute of life, two of the
houses being without tenants.

"Well, this doesn't look much like a place," remarked Sam, as they got
out of the heavy lumber wagon which had brought them and their outfit
over.

"Phew! but aint it cold!" exclaimed Tom, dancing around and slapping his
arms over his chest. "I wonder how Nellie and Grace Laning like this?"

"I'll wager you've been thinking of Nellie all the way up," said Dick
slyly, remembering how his brother had tormented him about Dora
Stanhope.

"Couldn't think of anything but how cold it was," growled Tom, but his
face took on a sudden redness. "Where do you go next?" he demanded, to
change the subject.

"Let's go over to the store and ask for Mr. John Barrow," suggested
Dick.

The store was at a fork in the roads, and thither they hurried, to get
inside, for the ride from Barton's Corners had certainly been a chilling
one. In the store they found a big pot stove throwing out a generous
amount of heat, and around this stove were gathered half a dozen men,
smoking and telling stories.

"So you are the young men who are looking for John Barrow," said the
storekeeper, after listening to what Dick had to say. "He was here
waiting for you, and he'll be back in a bit. Rather a cold ride, eh?
Draw up to the fire and warm up."

A place was made for the lads, and while they were "thawing out," as
Sam put it, John Barrow came in. He proved to be a tall, powerful built
lumberman, with a well-tanned face and sharp, but kindly, eyes.

"How do you do," he said, as he shook hands. "Real glad to know you.
Yes, I got a letter from John Laning, my brother-in-law, tellin' me all
about you. He says as how you want a guide fer these parts. Well, I
don't want to brag, but I reckon I know the lay o' the land 'round here
about as good as any o' 'em, and a heap sight better nor lots."

"We'd like you first-rate for a guide," said To