“No, I’m not a lumberman,” said the man.  “What makes you ask that?”

“Well, you look like the lumberman—­only he was a tramp—­that my father gave a ragged coat to,” went on Russ.  “And there were real estate papers in the coat, and daddy wants ’em back.”

“Ha!  Is that so?” asked the man, “Well, I’m sorry but I don’t know anything about ’em.  I never saw your father that I know of, though I do know Mrs. Bell.  I live on the other side of the lake.  But I come over here fishing once in a while.”

“And haven’t you daddy’s papers?” asked Laddie.

“No, I’m sorry to say I haven’t.”

“But you have red hair,” went on the little boy.

“Yes, my hair is red all right,” laughed the man, as he ran his hand through the fiery curls on his head.  “My hair is very red.  Sometimes I wish it wasn’t so red.  But it’s of no use to worry about it, I suppose.  But what has my red hair to do with your father’s papers?”

Then Laddie and Russ, taking turns, told about their father’s clerk in the real estate office giving the tramp lumberman the old coat, and how, in one of the pockets, were the valuable papers.  The boys told of the search for the tramp, and also of their trip from Pineville to Lake Sagatook.

“And so you haven’t yet found the red-haired man with the papers, have you?” asked the fisherman, smiling at the two boys.

“No,” said Russ, a bit sadly.  “First we thought you might have ’em.”

“Do you know any red-haired lumberman—­one that’s a tramp?” Laddie asked.

“No, I can’t say that I do.  But tell your father, and also your Grandma Bell, that I’ll be on the watch for one.  My name is Hurd—­Simon Hurd.  Your grandma knows me.  Tell her I’ll be on the watch for a red-haired lumberman.  We have all sorts up here in Maine, and some of ’em have red hair, though I don’t know that any one will have your father’s papers.  Ha!  There’s one I’ve got, anyhow!” the man suddenly exclaimed.

He dropped the oars, with which he had been slowly rowing the boat, and caught up his pole.  Then, as the boys watched, they saw him reel in his line and lift from the water a big fish, which sparkled in the sun as it leaped and twisted, trying to get off the hook.

“Hi, that’s a big one!” cried Russ, leaping up and down on the sand, he was so excited.

“Yes, he’s as big as one of the two I lost,” the man went on.

He landed his prize in the boat, while the boys and, the other little Bunkers crowded to the end of the sandy point to watch what was going on.

“I guess you children brought me good luck,” said Mr. Hurd, the red-haired fisherman.  “I’m going to row along now, but I’ll keep my eyes open for the tramp lumberman that may have your father’s papers.”

“Thank you,” said Russ.

The six little Bunkers watched until the fisherman was out of sight around the next point, and then they started to play again.