Frank shut his jaws hard. Bluff edged up alongside, as though it was his earnest desire to be on the firing line if there was going to be trouble.
At that critical moment a voice was heard, saying:
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, Bill Nackerson!”
Looking in the direction whence these words came, Frank saw with the liveliest satisfaction that the speaker was no other than Mr. Darrel, the lumberman.
A great load seemed lifted from Frank’s mind. With the coming of the lumberman, he had good reason to believe things would brighten up. For one thing, he was pleased to see that Mr. Darrel carried a rifle, which he was holding in a half-threatening manner as he advanced.
“Oh, here’s where we get busy right away!” Bluff was heard to mutter.
“Now things are going to look different,” Jerry added, with considerable satisfaction.
Frank looked deeper than the surface. He saw that the lumberman was alone.
“There are three of the sportsmen,” Frank told himself, “and each carries a gun. Mr. Darrel wouldn’t be able to manage the bunch if they started to get ugly. We ought to be able to lend a hand.”
He did not think it advisable to go toward the cabin himself, but that was no reason some one else might not make the attempt.
“Bluff!” he whispered, for it happened that the other was close by his elbow.
“Try and make your way to the cabin without attracting their attention.”
“Yes; and fetch mine along, too. Careful, now; and if you see them watching you stand still and appear innocent.”
Hardly had Frank spoken the last word before Bluff was in motion.
Other things chained Frank’s attention just then. Mr. Darrel had walked forward until he was now not more than thirty feet from the boys and Bill Nackerson’s crowd. It might be said that they formed a triangle, of which the lumberman was the apex, and the boys formed one of the base corners.
Frank knew that Mr. Darrel was acquainted with Nackerson. When they had told him about the trouble on the train, the lumberman related some differences he had once had with the sportsman, who had been coming to the Maine woods for a good many years.
The sight of Mr. Darrel had been anything but agreeable to the bully. When he saw, however, that the lumberman seemed to be unattended, the old look of anger came back to his face.