The fellow was smoking a short-stemmed pipe, and now stood, with his left hand shading his eyes, peering off at the surrounding landscape.
Dick and Dave hugged the ground more closely behind their screen of bushes.
"It's all right, Bill," announced the lookout in the doorway.
"'Course this," growled a voice from the inside.

"Too far from the main line o' travel for anyone to be spying around.

Besides, no one guesses-----" "Well, you can go to sleep if ye wanter, Bill.

I'm goin' ter sit up and smoke." With that the brogan-shod man disappeared inside the shanty.
Dick and Dave glanced at each other with eager interest.
"I wonder whether they have Mr.Dodge in there with them ?" breathed Dick, in his ear.
"If Mr.Dodge is in there he's keeping amazingly quiet," Darrin responded doubtingly.
"Within a very few minutes," Prescott rejoined, "I'm going to know whether Mr.Dodge is in that shanty." "We found his footprint close enough near here," argued Dave.
"Yes, and I feel sure enough that Mr.Dodge is there.

But why don't we hear something from him?
The whole business is so uncanny that it gives one that creepy feeling." For a full quarter of an hour the two chums remained hidden, barely stirring.