“Hugh will stir up others to go forward, but he will take good care to protect himself.”

The dull roar that he once fancied he heard when tramping aimlessly during the day, was now so distinct that he knew he must be near a stream.  The path crossed it at no great distance.

Sure enough, he had only turned a bend and gone down a little slope when he reached the margin of a deep creek, fully twenty feet wide.  It flowed smooth and dark at his feet, but the turmoil to the left showed that it tumbled over the rocks, not far away.

Harvey was anything but pleased, when he saw the bridge by which the stream had to be passed.  It was merely the trunk of a tree, that lay with the base on the side where he stood, while the top rested on the other bank.  Whoever had felled the tree had trimmed the trunk of its branches from base to top—­the result being more ornamental than useful, for the protuberances would have served to help the footing of a passenger.  The trunk in the middle was no more than six inches in diameter, and being a little worn by the shoes that had trod its length, the footing was anything but secure.  With the sprinkling of snow it was more treacherous than ever.

“Must I cross that?” Harvey said aloud, with a feeling akin to dismay.

“You can do so or swim, whichever you choose.”

These words were spoken by a man standing on the other side, and who was about to step on the support, when he paused on seeing another on the point of doing the same from the opposite bank.  In the dim light, Harvey saw him only indistinctly, but judged that he himself was recognized by the other.

“I suppose it’s safe enough for those accustomed to it,” said Harvey in reply, “but I prefer some other means; do you intend to use it?”

“That I do; I want no better; if you are afraid, get out of the way, for I am late.”

Harvey moved to the right, and watched the other, who stepped upon the support and walked over with as much certainty as if treading a pavement on the street.

Harvey looked closely, and as the fellow came toward him, he recognized him as one of his former employes.  He was Jack Hansell—­a brother of Tom, and like him a close associate of Hugh O’Hara, the leader.

“You are out late, Jack,” remarked the superintendent, as the other left the log.  To his surprise, Jack did not answer, but quickly disappeared up the path by which the superintendent had reached the spot.

“He is surly and ill-mannered, like all of them; no doubt he is on his way to the cabin to plot mischief with the others.”

Since nothing was to be gained by waiting, Harvey now stepped on the trunk and began gingerly making his way across.  It was a hard task, and just beyond the middle, he lost his balance.  He was so far along, however, that a vigorous jump landed him on the other bank.

A little beyond he caught the twinkling lights of the village, and he hastened his steps, now that, as it may be said, home was in sight.  He felt as if he was famishing, and the thought of the luscious supper awaiting his return, gave him such speed that he was soon at his own door.