Mr. Marlin had not said that he would come to see Charley this morning, nor had he telephoned any message to that effect; but when Charley heard the steady chugging of a motor in the valley below, he believed it must be the forester.  He was not quite certain, however, because the motor did not seem to beat exactly like Mr. Marlin’s.  The dense foliage completely hid the approaching car from view, so that Charley could not see what sort of an automobile it was.

It mattered little to Charley, however, who it was.  He was the soul of hospitality, and at once he set some coffee to boiling for his approaching visitor.

This proved to be the forester.  He presently came puffing up the slope, and after he had drunk some coffee and gotten his breath, the two men began to plan how they should best watch Lumley.  The logs must be checked up carefully, yet it was desirable that no one see Charley measuring them.  Finally it was decided that each day Charley should measure them in the early evening immediately after the last log truck had started away with its load.  There would be nobody around then, and Charley could easily measure the day’s cut and get home to his cabin before dark.

For an hour the two guardians of the forest discussed matters that pressed for attention.  Then the forester rose to go.  “I have Lumley’s report on yesterday’s cut,” he said, “and if nobody is around when we reach the skidways, we’ll just check it up.  We can drive out in a few minutes, but you will have to walk back.  Get your log-rule and come on.”  And they went down the mountain to the end of the new road.

“Hello!” cried Charley in surprise, as he caught sight of the forester’s car.  “You’re driving a big truck, eh?  I thought that motor didn’t sound like your Henry.”

“Yes; there was a load of stuff to be hauled out for Jim’s crew.  He starts work to-morrow.  I killed two birds with one stone by bringing the stuff, which I dumped at Jim’s, and then coming on out here.”

As they reached the car, Charley said, “It looks powerful.”

“It’s one of those old army trucks Uncle Sam gave us.  Got a great battery and tremendous power.  Get in.”

They climbed aboard.  Mr. Marlin touched the starter and the engine began to chug.  He let in his clutch but the car would not move.  The car happened to be standing on a moist spot and its great weight had pressed the wheels far down into the soft new road.  Mr. Marlin threw on the power.  The truck jumped, something snapped sharply and a banging noise followed as the car moved jerkily ahead.

“Thunderation!” cried the forester.  “I’ve broken the differential.  I bet ten dollars on it.”  And investigation proved his diagnosis was correct.  “I suppose it will take all summer to get a new part,” growled the forester.  “This truck will have to stand here idle until repairs come.  But we can’t stand here idle.  Come on.”

They set off down the road.  After a long hike they came to the skidways at the main road.  Nobody was in sight.