"No. He's only the agent of a 'Frisco lumber company, an' the land belongs
to the Government. Buell's sure slashin' the lumber off, though. Two
freight-trains of lumber out every day."

"Is this Penetier Forest?" I queried, carelessly, but I had begun to think
hard.

"Sure."

I wanted to ask questions, but thought it wiser to wait. I knew enough
already to make out that I had come upon the scene of a gigantic lumber
steal. Buell's strange manner on the train, at the station, and his
eagerness to hurry me out of Holston now needed no more explanation. I
began to think the worst of him.

"Did you see a Mexican come into camp?" I inquired of the Negro.

"Sure. Greaser got here this mornin'."

"He tried to rob me in Holston."

"'Tain't nothin' new fer Greaser. He's a thief, but I never heerd of him
holdin' anybody up. No nerve 'cept to knife a feller in the back."

"What'll I do if I meet him here?"

"Slam him one! You're a strappin' big lad. Slam him one, an' flash your gun
on him. Greaser's a coward. I seen a young feller he'd cheated make him
crawl. Anyway, it'll be all day with him when Dick finds out he tried to
rob you. An' say, stranger, if a feller stays sober, this camp's safe