IV
Gildersleeve cautiously refrained from uttering what was on his mind as he and Duff wended their way up to their quarters in one of the smaller log shacks the former had rented during his stay on the limits.
At the door, Gildersleeve paused to scan the lake and the sky. “Gad, it looks as though we are in for some bad weather, Duff,” he observed ominously.
“You kin bank on that, Mister,” offered a grizzled lumberjack who stopped in passing. “Win’s been a-blowin’ outen one spot all day—an’ when the win’ don’t follow the sun round on of Lake Supe’ you kin look out fer high-jinks in the weather line afore monin’.”