On this particular Saturday, a gray blanket of high fog hung in the sky. Eddie had an idea that quite a few of the boats would still be tied up at Anderson’s Landing. Right after lunch he hurried over to Teena’s house.
“How would you like to go down to Anderson’s Landing,” he suggested, “and see if we can’t earn a day’s rental on one of the boats? Then maybe next week we can take that trip out to Cedar Point with the Geiger counter.”
“You want to earn the use of a rowboat again?” Teena asked.
“Yep. It’s not so hard,” Eddie said. “Want to come?”
“I’ll ask mother.”
Soon Eddie and Teena arrived at the beach. Mr. Anderson was midway out on the wharf which jutted a hundred or so feet out into the smooth water of the bay. They trotted out across the rough planking to see him. The boatowner was a small, wiry man with deep wrinkles around his eyes from years of squinting against the reflection of sun on water.
“Hi, there,” he greeted. “Where are your fishing poles?”
“We didn’t come to fish today, Mr. Anderson,” Eddie said. “Do you have any odd jobs we can do?”
“Need a boat?” the owner guessed.
“Yes, sir,” Eddie said. “We’d like to row out to Cedar Point one of these days.”