A few men were lounging around in the sun, and there were scrapers of the wheeled variety, and wagons, and plows, and divers other implements of toil that were strange to the place.

Also there was a long, reddish-yellow ridge branching out from the creek; Billy knew it for a ditch--but a ditch larger than he had seen for many a day.

He did not say anything, even when Flora exclaimed over the surprise of finding a camp there, but headed straight for the camp.
When they came within speaking distance, a man showed in the opening of one of the tents, looked at them a moment, and came forward.
"Why, that's Fred Walland!" cried Flora, and then caught herself suddenly.

"I didn't know he was back," she added, in a tone much less eager.
Billy gave her a quick look that might have told her much had she seen it.

He did not much like the color which had flared into her cheeks at sight of the Pilgrim, and he liked still less the tone in which she spoke his name.