d States just as well," remarked the
Governor, steering the car slowly among the deep ruts. "We'll shoot the
car around behind that pyramid of sawdust and walk a bit to stretch our
legs."

There was no trace of a path where he struck off into the woods but he
strode along with the easy confidence of one who is sure of his
destination. They brought up presently beside a brook and in a moment
more reached a log hut planted on the edge of the high bank.

"What do you think of that, Sir Archibald?" inquired the Governor
carelessly.

Archie paused, wavering in the path. The man had called him by his right
name, throwing in the prefix with a tinge of insolence.

"Oh, your name?" remarked the Governor turning from a leisurely survey
of the dwelling. "Perfectly easy! Archibald Bennett was neatly sewed
into your coat pocket by your tailor as I observed when I rubbed my
hands over your waistcoat to see if you wore a badge. Your bill-fold is
there intact--it's rather indelicate of you to feel for it! If I'd meant
to rob you I'd have biffed you on the head long ago and thrown your
carcass to the buzzards."

"I got these duds out of a suitcase I sneaked from an auto in Boston,
and that's no name of mine," Archie explained hurriedly, still anxious
to convince the Governor that he was a thief.

"A deft hand, son; but very careless of you not to rip out the label.
Men have been hanged on slighter evidence. But Archibald is not a name
to sneeze at, and I rather like Archie; and Archie I shall continue to
call you. Now we'll see what we can do to shake up a breakfast."

He drew out a key and opened the door of the hut. On one side stood a
dilapidated cook stove of an obsolete pattern, surrounded by a few
kitchen utensils. In the far end were two bunks, one above the other,
and on a chair beside them a pile of blankets neatly folded. In the
middle of the room was a table littered with old magazines.

"Not a bad place, Archie! I stumbled upon it a couple of years ago quite
by accident and use it occasionally. The retreat of some artist who
probably starved to death. When I first found the shack it was full of
impressionistic studies that looked as though the poor boob stood on his
head to paint. I made a burnt offering of the whole lot to outraged
Nature." He opened a cupboard revealing a quantity of provisions. "Poor
old Hoky was a great lover of ham; I never saw such an appetite for
smoked pork, and he had just stocked us up wit