In the very centre of the valley ran a little stream. Long before they
could see it, they heard the brook talking to itself. The forest was
filled with a gentle murmur, which grew to a distinct rushing sound as
they approached the stream.

"Can't you just hear it speak?" said Lew. "What do you suppose it is
saying?"

"Those really are voices," insisted Charley.

"Now who's getting dippy?" laughed Lew. "You'll be as bad as I am if you
keep on."

"But I do hear voices," protested Charley. "I plainly heard the word
'six.' Listen. Somebody said 'eight,' just as plain as could be."

Lew looked puzzled. "Of course there might be some fishermen in here
besides ourselves," he said.

They looked carefully about them, but at first saw nothing. Then a voice
distinctly said, "Hemlock--five." There could no longer be any doubt.
Some one besides themselves was in the forest.

They made their way in the direction of the sound. Presently they saw
three men. Two of them carried calipers and walked in advance. The third
came behind and held a pencil and note-book.

"Wonder who they are and what they are doing," Charley said quietly.