"Maybe," said James gloomily. "Hardly, if you give that bloke his clothes before you need to." The Watermelon waved the statement aside. "We are going to leave about five," said he. "They are waiting for me, now. It will take you a bit of a walk to find the place. I put the clothes in an empty log near a pile of rocks at the foot of three tall pines, standing together about ten yards from the lake. You can’t help but find it. Give him the clothes and this check-book and fountain pen. I can’t use them and you two won’t get gay with them ’cause Mike’s a coward, and James has too much sense." "You’re a damn fool," said James shortly. "He’s all right," argued Mike, meaning the man in the forest shades. "What can hurt him?" "I know, but he’s mighty uncomfortable. Can’t sit down, maybe, and there may be flies and mosquitoes—" "Naw," protested Mike. "He’s just comfortable. If it was the style, I would like to have gone naked to-day." "He’ll have the police after youse," warned James, "as soon as he can reach the village." "Sure he will. Gratitude is a flower," said Mike grandiloquently, "that I have never picked." "And never will," added James with grim pessimism. "That’s all right," returned the Watermelon. "I ain’t gathering any flowers this trip. Here’s a ten-spot for each of you, and mind you do what I say." "For you," said Mike, "I’d give me heart’s blood." "Where do we find this pond?" asked James. "Come with me and I’ll take you to the road that leads by it. You give me time to get to the hotel, though, before you give him his clothes." "Trust me," said Mike, lovingly concealing the greenback in the dark dirty recesses of his rags. They parted in the road where the Watermelon had come upon the big red touring car. Mike and James watched him until he disappeared over the top of the hill, then climbed the wall and made their way through the woods to the little mountain lake. "We won’t get the clothes," said James, "until we have had a talk with the guy and tried to get him into a reasonable frame of mind. It’s just likely that he may be somewhat put out." There was no one in sight as they made their way cautiously to the edge of the lake. The trees grew nearly down to the narrow, pebbly beach and were reflected in the quiet depths of the water. The little brook, tumbling over its miniature waterfall, with a ripple and splash, was the only sound that broke the all-pervading silence. Nothing stirred in the underbrush, neither man nor beast, and James and Mike were about to slip away as quietly as they came when a stick snapped behind them sharply and Mike wheeled. A man was peering at them eagerly over the tops of a few bushes. His face was white and his teeth chattering. His arms, dimly discerned through the branches, were wrapped around his shivering form with fervor and he was standing gingerly on first one foot and then the other.