"If I can't get a job, I'm going hunting for a few days," said Andy half aloud, as he trudged through the snow. "It's better than doing nothing, Uncle Si to the contrary. Maybe I can get Chet to go along. I don't think he has anything else to do. Somehow or other, it seems to be awfully dull around here this winter. Maybe I would have done better if I had tried my luck down in one of the towns." Andy had to pass through the village of Pine Run, consisting of a general store, blacksmith shop, church, and a score of houses. As he approached the settlement he saw a horse and cutter coming toward him at a smart rate of speed. In the cutter sat a man of about thirty, dressed in a fine fur overcoat. "Whoa!" called the man to his steed, as he approached the youth, and the horse soon came to a halt. "Say, can you tell me, is this the road to Moose Ridge?" he asked. "It's one of the roads," answered Andy. "Then there is another?" "Yes, sir, just beyond that fringe of trees yonder." "Which is the best road?" "What part of the Ridge do you want to go to?" "Up to a place called the Blasted Pines." "Then you had better take the other road. You won't get through this way." "You are sure of that? I don't want to make any mistake." "Yes, I am sure. I've been up there hunting myself," added Andy. He saw that the cutter contained a game bag and two gun cases. "Is the hunting any good?" "It was last year. I haven't been up there this year. I got a fine big deer up there. Maybe I'll get up there later--if I can't find work." "Out of employment, eh?" "Yes, sir." "Well, if you come up there perhaps we'll meet again," said the man, and started to turn the cutter back to the other road. "Much obliged for the information." "You're welcome," answered Andy. And then he watched the turnout swing around and dash away for the other road. Little did he dream of the strange circumstances under which he was to meet this man again, or of what that encounter was to bring forth. CHAPTER II AT THE LUMBER CAMP Leaving the village behind him, Andy struck out bravely for the Storburgh lumber camp, three miles up the river. The thermometer was low but there was no wind, and he did not mind the cold, for he had plenty of good red blood in his veins. All he was worried about was the question of getting work. He knew that he must have money, and that it could not very well be obtained without employment. "If I were a fellow in a fairy story book I might find a bag of gold," he mused. "But as I'm only a Yankee lad, I guess I'll have to hustle around for all I get. Even if I went hunting and brought down a deer or two, or a moose, that wouldn't bring in enough. If I were a regular guide I might get a job with that gentleman in the cutter. He looked as if he had money to spend. He must be a stranger in these parts, or he wouldn't ask about the road to Moose Ridge."