“What do you call the machines?” asked the other. “The _Louise_ and the _Bertha_.” “From New York, eh?” “Yes, from New York,” replied the unsuspecting boy. “Well,” said the man after a moment’s thought, “I’ll probably call on your friends to-night. I never fail to have a good time in the company of flying machine boys. By the way,” he added as he turned away, “have you seen anything of a third machine in this vicinity?” As the man spoke he lifted his left hand to brush a twig out of his path and Kit saw that the little finger was missing at the first joint. “No,” the boy replied in a moment, making a mental note of the crippled hand. “I don’t think there’s any other machine here.” For the first time during that interview the boy realized that he had been talking too much. Therefore, he denied any knowledge of the aeroplane which had crossed the mountains during the night. The ranger departed, and Kit hastened to the camp to find the boys awake and anxious concerning his absence. Of course he was all excitement over the encounter with the bear, but he told of his conversation with the ranger hesitatingly, for he disliked to admit that he had been too talkative with an entire stranger. He explained the good turn the ranger had served him and added that they might have company that night. “Forest ranger, is he?” asked Ben as the boy concluded his story. “He wore a ranger’s uniform, anyway!” replied Kit. “And he asked you all about us, didn’t he?” Jimmie quizzed. “Why, he asked a few questions, yes.” “And you told him all about our coming from New York, and the names of our machines, and everything else you could think of, didn’t you?” questioned Carl. “You were so glad he saved your life that you told him all you knew?” “I told him about New York, and about the machines,” was the hesitating reply. “He didn’t seem to care much about details.” “What sort of a looking man is he?” asked Ben. “Oh, he looks all right,” Kit replied. “I couldn’t describe him. When he lifted his left hand I saw that the little finger was off at the first joint. That’s all I know about him.” “That’s enough!” Ben exclaimed. “We don’t have to know any more about him! Phillips has a frank, pleasant manner, and his little finger on the left hand is off at the first joint, too, but perhaps that is only a coincidence!” he added with a scornful smile. Kit actually turned pale under all his freckles. “Is that one of the men you boys have been telling me about?” he asked. “I haven’t a doubt of it!” replied Ben. Kit, very much ashamed of himself, crawled under the shelter-tent where the boys had been sleeping and refused to be comforted. “It’s just this way, boys,” Ben said as they stood looking into each other’s faces, questioningly. “It looks like we’ll have to get out of this cosy little valley right away.”