"But why didn't you get one of your nearby neighbours to go?" Jasper enquired. "You have lost valuable time already."
"H'm, I guess you don't know our neighbours. They're kind enough an' would do all they could. But their horses are about as slow as oxen. So ma says, 'Steve, you jist hustle fer Mr. Jasper. He's got a horse that goes like a streak of lightin'. He'll go all right when ye tell him you're Betty's brother.' So I took the short-cut through the woods, an' here I am. Will ye go?"
"Sure," Jasper replied as he reached for his coat and hat. "But who is that man? And where did he come from?"
"I don't know; never saw him before. He's quite oldish, though."
"Didn't your mother ask him what he was doing there alone in the woods?"
"No; she didn't like to ask him. She thought maybe he was goin' to Camp Number Three, which is not far from our house, an' on our land, too."
Jasper paused in the act of lighting the lantern and looked into Steve's face.
"Why, didn't you go there for help?" he asked.
"What! go to them skunks fer help?" and the boy clenched his fists. "Never! They're stealin' our logs an' we can't do nothin'. De'ye think we'd ask old Pete Sinclair's men to do anything fer us? We'd die first. Jimmy an' me's been waitin' fer some time fer old Pete to come our way. An' when he does----" Steve's clenched right fist shooting out straight before him supplied his lack of suitable words to express the depth of his feelings.
An idea suddenly flashed into Jasper's mind with a startling intensity.
"What does that man look like?" he demanded in a voice which surprised the boy.
"Oh, he's somewhat oldish, as I told ye; rather thick-set; has a heavy moustache, an' looks as if he has always had plenty of good things to eat. I don't know as I can tell ye much more about him."
Jasper had blown out the lamp and opened the door before Steve had finished speaking. He was now very impatient to be away. There was only one man, he felt quite sure, who would be prowling along that lonely trail on a Christmas Eve, and that man would be Peter Sinclair. It was of Lois he thought and not the sick man as he hurried to the stable, harnessed Pedro, and made him fast to the sleigh.
"You go back home, Steve," he ordered, "and tell your mother that I have gone for the doctor."