“First it was a ground-hog, then it was a skunk,” I complained good-humoredly. He disregarded me entirely and moved about the car squinting at it as if it did not belong to me at all. I felt quite an outsider, the comrade of skunks and ground-hogs. He seemed to think I would wait till he completed his leisurely inspection. “If I’d a had all wuz belongin’ ter me,” he observed carelessly, “I might o’ had one o’ them pesky contraptions.” I answered with that insincere phrase which motorists are so fond of using to the uninitiated. “You’re very lucky not to have one,” I said: “they’re a lot of trouble.” And I smiled inwardly at the thought of his driving one. “You going my way?” I added. “Yer ain’t goin’ by south road, mebbe?” he asked. “South road; where is that?” I said. “Yer know Hawkeye Spoke them youngsters got?” “I don’t,” I said, “but it’s a bully good name all right. Hawkeye. I’m going north up to Kingston.” “They got one of them cylums there?” he said. “Cylums?” I queried. “Fer youngsters.” “Oh, asylum,” I said. “Yes, I dare say they have; it’s quite a city.” He moved out of the way so that I might start, and then I noticed that he limped. “Is South Hawkeye, or whatever you call it, far?” I asked him. “Whatcher call far, mebbe no,” he said, which was not altogether enlightening. “Like on ten mile,” he added after a pause. “Well,” I said, “that’s nothing if we can get there by a road. I can have you there in half an hour. Climb in if you’re going home. Where is South Hawkeye anyway? I’ll shoot you there quicker than you could foot it.” He climbed in and sat beside me without any polite hesitation or superfluous acknowledgments. He glanced at me with a fixed, shrewd, inquiring gaze. I had an uncomfortable feeling that he was not so astonished at the wonderful speed and convenience of a car as at my use of the word _shoot_. I think it amused him. He looked me all over and I fancied he was of the opinion that such a person as myself couldn’t possibly _shoot_. He was right at that, for I never shot anything in my life except a game of pool. CHAPTER IV—The Obscure Trail I had seen something of Interstate Park and now I was to have a glimpse of the old life which had been there before the region was set aside; the life and times which had caught my imagination.