had tired
of the bend of the brook a week before and had changed his thieving
ground to the rapids above, where he terrorized daily a shy family
of trout, pouncing upon the little ones with a great splashing and
hysterical chattering as they darted about, panic-stricken, in the
shallowest places.

"Perhaps, after all, it was only the creaking of a tree," he sighed,
with a feeling of relief. Before he could lower his tail he heard
the sound again--this time nearer--more alarming--the sound of human
voices coming straight toward him.

Then came the sharp bark of a dog. At this the chipmunk went scurrying
to safety along the great hemlock and over the sagging roof of the
deserted shanty lying at its farther end, where he hid himself in a
pile of rock.

There was no longer any doubt. Someone was approaching.

"If Billy Holcomb had only give us a leetle more time, Hite," came a
voice, "we'd had things fixed up slicker'n they be; but she won't
leak a drop, that's sartain, and if this here Mr. Thayor hain't too
pertickler--"

"Billy allus spoke 'bout him as bein' humin, Freme," returned his
companion, "and seein' he's humin I presume likely he'll understand
we done our best. 'Twon't be long now," he added, "'fore they'll git
here."

Two men now emerged into the clearing. The foremost, Hite Holt, as he
was known--was a veteran trapper from the valley--lean and wiry, and
wearing a coonskin cap. From under this peered a pair of keen gray
eyes, as alert as those of a fox. His straight, iron-gray hair reached
below the collar of his coat, curling in long wisps about his ears
after the fashion of the pioneer trapper. As he came on toward the
shanty the chipmunk noticed that he bent under the weight of a pack
basket loaded with provisions. He also noticed that his sixty years
carried him easily, for he kept up a swinging gait as he picked his
way over the fallen timber.

His companion, Freme Skinner, was a young lumberman of thirty, with
red hair and blue eyes; a giant in build; clad in a heavy woollen
lumber-man's jacket of variegated colours. One of his distinguishing
features--one which gained for him the soubriquet of the "Clown" the
country about, was the wearing of a girl's ring in his ear, the slit
having been made with his pocket knife in a moment of gallantry. At
the heels of the two men trotted silently a big, brindle hound.

They had reached the dilapidated shanty now and were taking a rapid
glance at their su