must be getting near a town of some kind.”

“Aweel, laddy, nae doot ye think so, but it taks more than one man to mak a toun. That party is a logger coming from the camp. I dinna ken why he should be giving up his job so airly in the season, but it may be he is seek, or has had some sorry news frae hame.”

The brawny logger had an ax, with a small bundle suspended from the same, slung over his shoulder. He stopped and waited for them to come up, when he nodded his head in salutation.

“You’re The McNab, I take it,” he remarked, addressing the driver of the shaggy ponies. “I’m one of the Sawyer bunch over on the river ten miles away. On my way back home; wife down with a fever and the kids need me. Get up later on if all goes well. What sort of a crowd are you taking up into the bush this time, Tammis? Seems like a young outfit for such big game hunting.”

“Oh! ay, so it does,” replied the driver, quickly; “but these braw laddies hae seen muckle mair o’ such business than most men that come up this way. They weel know how to tak care o’ themselves, nae doot. What are the chances for game this season; and do ye know o’ anny ither parties in the bush?”

“I hear there are moose aplenty this year,” the logger replied, as he filled his pipe from the bag of tobacco McNab held out to him; “and so far I’ve only heard tell o’ one party o’ sportsmen along these parts. They’re camped nigh the Hogback on Cranberry Creek.”

“Seems to me I heard talk aboot the Baylay coming back to his old haunts again. They did say he had reformed, but, mon, they leed, fo’ that de’il would never be annything but the toughest man in all the Saguenay region, though he lived to a hundred.”

“Yes, they say it’s true, and one of our crew ran across him,” the logger returned, with a frown, and a shake of the head. “He is still nursing a broken head; and bore the word from Baylay that if any other loggers tried to take the quarrel up they knew where to find him.”

“Oh, ay, he never hides his light under a bushel, mon. And I only hope that the laddies here will not run a foul of the braggart while they are in the bush.”

“Well, if they do they’d better knuckle under, and whisper small. There isn’t a man I know as would be willing to stack up against Baylay when he’s roused and in one of his quarrelsome moods. He is a terror if ever there was one. But I must be on my way; the sooner I get home the better. Good-by to ye, boys, and I hope ye have a fine time; but beware Baylay!”

He struck out down the logging road with his bundle dangling from the ax that lay across his shoulder. McNab chirped to his ponies and once more the sledge started on its way.

Lub had an apprehensive look on his chubby face. His eyes sought those of Phil in a mute inquiry.

“Would you mind telling us something about this man, Baylay, Mr. McNab?” asked Phil; while both X-Ray Tyson and Ethan nodded their approval, for their curiosity had also been aroused.

“Oh! ay, though the least said aboot him the better,” replied the driver, as he glanced uneasily on either side of the road at the thick “bush” as though he half feared lest the party under discussion might be within earshot of them and take offense; “he is a verra big and powerful man who has a most ungovernable temper. He has gi’en the authorities a great deal o’ trouble in the past, but it is maist difficult to get any one to try and arrest him. He has been a logger in his time, and one o’ the best ever known along the river. They say he used to smuggle across the border; and to this day he kills game out o’ season as he pleases; yet the wardens are sore afraid to attempt his arrest.”

“Whew! that sounds nice, I must say!” exclaimed X-Ray Tyson.

“Rather an unpleasant neighbor to have around, seems to me,” added Ethan.

“I should remark,” declared Lub.

“I only hope,” Phil finished with, “that we don’t have the bad luck to run across this Baylay while we’re up here. For while it might be policy for us to knuckle down and try not to cross such a quarrelsome man, it goes against the grain of the Mountain Boys to be meek and uncomplaining when they are in the right.”

“That’s what we all say, Phil!” declared X-Ray.

Tammis McNab looked at his charges, and rubbed his bristly chin reflectively, as though it struck him there might be some lively times in prospect in case these American lads and the Baylay did happen to run up against each other in the bush.

CHAPTER II—BESIDE THE FRAGRANT CAMP FIRE

“I heard say that this Baylay had come back to his old haunts; does that mean he used to live up in this section, Mr. McNab?” asked Phil, a little later, showing that his thoughts were still fixed upon the unpleasant neighbor they were likely to have during their outing.

“Aweel, he did spend some time up aboot this way,” the driver replied. “You see, the mon has a family, for all his wild ways, and somehow he manages to support the wife and childer and a raft o’ dogs, though it’s a mystery how he does the same.”

“Children you say, and up here in this wilderness?” exclaimed Lub, looking more or less surprised.

“Oh! ay, a pair o’ thim I’m tawld, tho’ for the matter I couldno’ say for certain, since I never ha’ set eyes on the same. They tell me that the wife is a wee sma’ woman, but that she has been known to subdue her giant husband as no mortal man ever dared.”

“Gee! I’d like to see her do it, then,” asserted X-Ray, impulsively, of course never dreaming at the time that any such opportunity would drift his way.

When noon came they stopped and made a fire, so as to have hot coffee, which of course every one declared to be very refreshing, for they were chilled more or less by the long inaction.

Then it was on again deeper into the wilderness. The road had been abandoned for some time, since it turned sharply in the wrong direction, heading for the lumber camp on the river. Besides, the vicinity of such a place, where trees were falling all day long, and rough loggers calling out or singing at their labor, could not be reckoned a good hunting-ground, since the game would be scared away.

As the shadows began to lengthen the boys were cheered by hearing Tammis declare they were now close on the spot he had in mind. Once before some years back he had piloted a hunting-party up here, and from all accounts the prospects for big game were much better this season than for a long while back.

One of Phil’s hobbies was along the line of flashlight photography. Indeed, he had become quite fascinated with the idea of “shooting game with a camera,” and was even losing some of his hunter spirit that had until recently been such a pronounced part of his make-up.

He had already made quite a collection of wonderful pictures, and yearned for other worlds to conquer. Some of these days he declared he meant to take a trip into the fastnesses of Darkest Africa, where he could snap off the wild animals in their native haunts—elephant, lion, rhinoceros, hippopotamus and every other species of creature that lives in jungle and swamp and forest in the country which Roosevelt had recently visited on his great hunt.

Of course Phil expected to add to his collection while on this jaunt; and since Ethan was a born hunter, with X-Ray backing him up, they could supply the camp with what fresh meat was necessary, leaving Lub to manage the culinary department, and lend Phil a helping hand if necessary.

The sun was just about an hour high when McNab suddenly drew in his shaggy team.

“What mair cud ye want than this braw place, laddies?” he demanded, as he sat there, and swept his hand around in a