He rose and plodded ahead down the dusty road. Wallistown was in sight now. He could see the group of two-story buildings that marked its main street, leading from the wharf where a number of canoes, rowboats, and small motor launches were tied up. It was getting late; he decided to keep as far as possible from the center of town, where he might be observed. There was no use taking any chances, and he must start right back, to have time to carry the food he would purchase back over the long miles that now separated him from his friends in the mountains.
At one side of the wharf was a line of low buildings. Jerry left the road and followed a wooden sidewalk along the bank of the lake, and made out, on the front of the largest of these buildings, a sign that proclaimed it to be a grocery and “general store.” This was as close to the town as he wished to go. The sight of so many strange faces—people who probably had never even heard of Camp Lenape—frightened him a little. If he hadn’t come so far, and hadn’t known that his brother and the rest were depending on him to bring them some grub, he might have turned back right there. As it was, he quickened his pace and entered the shadow of the store.
The interior of the place was gloomy, after the sunlight outside, and was filled with a thousand different odors, chief among them being those of stale candy and dried fish. An old man was lounging in a chair which leaned back against the counter; he moved his head lazily to look at this customer.
“What’ll ye have, bud?”
“A couple cans of beans, and some other stuff—I don’t know just what.”
“Wal, look around and pick ’em out. Guess we got what ye want,” the man answered, and leaned back again with his arms behind his head.
Jerry poked about among the shelves in the back of the store. They wouldn’t have much chance to cook; better to take things that would carry easily, and that they could eat cold—bread and cheese and chocolate——
The old man Slammed the four legs of his chair to the floor with a bang, as someone entered hurriedly through the door.
“You got my order ready, Mr. Clay?”
“Hullo, Rufe. Say, did ye find that canoe of yourn?”