Mark wrinkled up his nose and looked out at the lake. “D-don’t exactly fancy goin’ home like this,” he says.
“Nothin’ else to do,” says Binney Jenks.
Mark turned to the man who drove us out. “Kind of a humorous feller, ain’t you?” he says, and the man grinned, not mean, but like he was enjoying himself and wouldn’t mind being right friendly.
“I calc’late to know a joke when I see one,” says he.
“This is one, all r-right,” says Mark; “but maybe we can pull some of the laugh out of it if we can get a good holt onto it.... Who owns this l-lumber-pile?”
“Man named Ames.”
“What kind of a man is he?”
“Takes after you for flesh, and lets folks call him Jim,” says the driver.
“Live in town?”
“Yes.”