Glancing ahead amid the gathering dusk, Dean could see Daley, Spofford and his friend Marcus Ellison, just entering the old hut by the river. “I need be in no hurry,” he said. “They probably intend to stay there for some little time. Hello! I mustn’t be seen by these men, either.” Dean glided behind a tree. Mr. Littleton and the colonel were coming through the woods, and at that moment sat down on a fallen tree. Both were slightly intoxicated, and turbulent and maudlin. It was a strange sight to Dean to see these old-time enemies apparently the best of friends. He realized that it was, however, as Abner had insinuated, the result of mutual hatred for their new business rival, and Dean’s best friend and benefactor, Judge Oglesby. “Well, squire,” maundered Colonel Darringford. “It’s all settled, eh?” “You bet,” hiccoughed Squire Littleton. “We combine to beat the judge?” “Anything to beat Judge Oglesby.” “He’ll run no railroad.” “Not if we know it.” “He can’t kill off our valuable business interests?” “No, sir-ree.” “If he does, squire----” “But he won’t.” “If he tries it----” “Well, colonel?” “We’ll--we’ll do something desperate. He tried to run a boat, ha! ha!” “And it was burned.” “Yes, and Tim Downey----” “Hey?” “I mean--some one will burn up his railroad, too,” stammered the colonel. “I won’t have it, squire. I have friends to help me, and when I say smash him----” “Smash he goes.” “You bet. No railroad for us.” The two men staggered to their feet, and soon left the woods. Dean stood staring reflectively after them. “Tim Downey,” he murmured. “Why did Colonel Darringford speak of him? Is it possible that he could be bad enough to hire him to burn the _Spray_? I can’t believe it.” But the more that Dean reflected on the developments of the day the more suspicious he became. He wondered if, after all, he had not been made the victim of a deep plot, engineered by rich men. In striking at a rival, they had ruined him. “Patience,” he told himself, as he got nearer to the hut near the river. “I must keep track of Marcus, and through him Daley and Spofford. We shall surely learn something to-night.” Dean got nearer to the cabin. He could see a light within it. Then, after an hour, Daley came out and walked away in the direction of the village. Dean secreted himself in a pile of dead brush, and kept his eyes on the cabin. One--two--three hours passed monotonously by. Then he saw Daley reappear hastily from the direction of the village. He walked straight to the door of the hut, but he did not enter it. Instead, he seemed to call to Spofford, for that individual appeared outside a minute later, and with Daley walked to and fro in front of the cabin, apparently discussing something of interest and importance. “I wish I could hear what they are saying. I wish I knew their plans,” murmured Dean.