ar the sound of a motor.

"Probably a log truck coming for a load. If we'd had a few minutes more,
we could have completed the job. There are only two piles left. We'll just
disappear until this truck goes away. Then we can come back and finish."

The beating of the motor sounded louder. The two men moved toward the
forest. As they passed the farther end of the first unmeasured log pile,
the forester stopped in amazement. A man sat on the ground, leaning lazily
against the logs. It was the man Charley had seen that night at Lumley's.

"What are you doing here, Henry Collins?" demanded the forester sternly.

"I'm working for the lumber company," said the man, sullenly.

"You appear to be working hard," replied the forester scornfully.

"I help load the trucks," said the fellow, as the forester turned on his
heel and walked away, followed by Charley.

"You don't suppose that he could have heard what we said, do you?" asked
Charley, anxiously.

"Heard every word of it," replied the forester. "The jig is up. That was
Bill Collins' cousin and he's as crooked as Bill. Lumley will know what's
afoot as quick as Collins can get word to him. We've got to act quick.
There's a detail of state constabulary at Ironton, and they could get here
in a motor in thirty minutes if I could only telephone them. Why in
thunderation did I ever leave the office without my portable instrument?
The nearest 'phone is at Jim Morton's. It will take me three-quarters of
an hour at my best pace to make it. But it's the best I can do. I'll hike
for Jim's. You hustle back to your tower and keep a close watch on things.
I'll telephone you as soon as I can. We've got to step lively if we are to
catch that scoundrel Lumley."

Chapter XXV

The Crisis

The forester hastened down the highway at a A tremendous pace. Charley set
out along the forest road he had so recently built. Before he knew it, he
was running madly. He ran for a long distance, hardly conscious that he
was running. Presently he stopped from very fatigue. Then he realized that
he was greatly excited and that he was running from sheer nervousness.

"This won't do at all," he muttered to himself. "You're worse than an old
hen. If ever you needed to keep your head, it's right now."

He took a grip on himself, drew a long breath, and settled to a fast walk,
thinking hard. He could not see how he himself could accomplish the arrest
of Lumley. If his chief did not think it adv