"Here's the corduroy road," said Bart, pointing to where the log highway began.

"Ah, indeed," remarked Mr. Hardman. "Quite interesting. Made of little logs laid side by side. To prevent wagons from sinking down into the mud, I suppose?"

"It isn't used much nowadays," volunteered Fenn. "It was built by the loggers when they were cutting some timber, but that was several years ago."

"Where does it lead to?"

"Right into the middle of the woods, and then it stops," replied Bart, thinking of the winter day they had last traveled over the road, and recalling what events had followed the discovery of the Perry family, suffering in the forest hut.

"We'll take a walk along it," Mr. Hardman went on. "It seems to be just the sort of locality I'm looking for. Quite lonesome enough to suit me."

It was pleasant in the forest that June day. On either side of the road grew tall ferns and there were many wild flowers. The birds were flitting through the branches, and, in spite of the rather queer expedition they were on, the boys enjoyed themselves. As for the man they were guiding, he was content to walk along, stopping, here and there, to look through the forest, or gather some flowers.

"Is there any particular place you want to go to?" asked Bart, when they had been walking on the road for perhaps half an hour.

"I thought you said the road did not lead anywhere."

"Neither it does, but there are paths through the woods branching off the road, and if you wanted to get to a certain spot I think we could take you there."

"No, I only want to see how the road runs. I am not looking for any particular place. But these paths you speak of, are they easy to find?"

"Not unless you know the woods pretty well," put in Ned.

"Ah! Then I suppose a person coming--say from the other side of the forest--would have difficulty in reaching the road and getting into Darewell?"

"It would be quite hard, I imagine," said Bart, "We have never been to the other edge of the forest. It is about ten miles in extent, and we have only been about half way through. It is pretty wild, the farther in you go."

"So much the better," Mr. Hardman murmured. "Now boys, are you ready for lunch? I confess the walk has given me an appet.i.te."

"The same here," admitted Fenn with a laugh.

They sat down on a gra.s.sy bank, and ate the food Bart had purchased. Mr.

Hardman seemed to be thinking of many things, for he hardly spoke during the impromptu meal, and, when he had eaten a couple of sandwiches he arose from the bank and wandered off a little way into the woods. When he came back he addressed Bart:

"Are you sure no one--er--say a sick person--could get from the other side of the forest to this road?"

"Well of course it's possible," admitted Bart, "but I don't believe a sick person, or a well one, either, could get here without a lot of trouble. There are no paths to speak of, so I've heard old hunters say."

"That's good," Mr. Hardman remarked, half to himself. "That's just what I want. Is this the only road leading into the woods from Darewell?"

"The only one," replied Bart.

"Then I guess I've seen enough."

"Do you think you'll build a house here?" asked Ned.

"Build a house here? What do you--Of course. Well, I like the place first rate. I must come again some day. I think we'll go back now. By the way, I must pay you," and he handed Bart the five-dollar bill.

"I'm much obliged," Bart said. "I'm afraid it was hardly worth so much.

It was a regular picnic for us."

"So much the better," replied Mr. Hardman with a smile. "Now we'll go back."

They started to retrace their steps along the corduroy road, the boys wondering somewhat over the whim of Mr. Hardman. He had not acted like a man who had come to look for a place to erect a dwelling, and, though they expected some oddity in a man who preferred to live in the solitude of the forest, they could not account for his questions about whether or not a person could get from the farther side of the woods to the road.

For about an hour they tramped back over the way they had come. Mr.

Hardman said little, and walked just ahead of the boys, who conversed among themselves. Just as they were nearing the end of the road he turned and asked:

"You are sure now there is no other way of going through the forest but this road?"

"Positive," replied Bart.

"You couldn't be mistaken?"

"Well, if there is a road no one in Darewell knows of it," put in Ned.

"We've lived here a good many years, and have often been in these woods, and we never heard of any other road."

"That's good," Mr. Hardman responded, and he seemed well satisfied.

"I wonder if Frank will come to meet us?" asked Bart as Mr. Hardman resumed his position slightly in advance of the boys.

"You can't tell much about Frank lately," replied Ned. "I don't know what to make of him. I wish he'd tell us if he is in trouble, for we might help him. I know what it is to be worried about something and not have any one you can talk to. I found that out when I had to disappear in New York," and he laughed at the recollection, though at the time of his trouble he felt in a very different frame of mind.

"Well, we'll just have to let him alone until he's ready to tell us,"

said Fenn. "h.e.l.lo!" he added, a moment later, "someone is coming along the road."

The chums stopped, as did Mr. Hardman. The sound of footsteps could be heard.

"Who is coming?" asked Mr. Hardman, and the boys thought he seemed alarmed.

"I don't know," Bart replied.

A moment later a figure appeared around a turn in the road.

"It's Frank!" exclaimed Ned.

"Who?" asked Mr. Hardman.

"Frank Roscoe; our chum," Bart said. "He has come to meet us."

"Frank Roscoe!" exclaimed Mr. Hardman, and the boys could see he was much excited.

"Frank Roscoe here! If I had known that!"

He turned suddenly and hurried past the boys, retracing his way along the corduroy road into the depths of the forest.

"I have forgotten some papers!" he exclaimed, not turning his head. "I must have left them on the bank where we ate lunch. I'll get them. Don't wait for me. I can find my way back."