“Evenin’ strangers,” called a tall, thin man who strolled down the slight hill at the foot of which the party were encamped. “Have you got a bite to spare?”
“Plenty,” replied the professor cheerfully. “Come right along. Supper will be ready in a little while. Are you hungry?”
“Hungry? I should say so. I haven’t had a bit to eat for two days, except what berries and old nuts I could gather.”
“What’s the matter? Get lost?” asked Jerry.
“Exactly,” replied the stranger. “My name’s Johnson,” he went on. “I was prospecting up in the hills, and got lost there.”
“Anybody with you?” asked Ned.
“Nary a soul; I’m all alone. I used up the last of my grub in trying to find the trail, and I guess I’d been looking for it yet if I hadn’t heard the noise of your steam engine here, and smelled the cooking. I s’pose you’re huntin’ for it, same as me.”
“Hunting for what?” asked the professor, struck by Johnson’s manner.
“Why Lost Lake, to be sure. Nobody comes out this far unless they’re huntin’ for the lake, but you’re the first to come in a steam car without rails.”
“Well, it’s a free country,” remarked the scientist, wishing to evade giving a direct answer, in the hope of learning something. “I guess we have a right to hunt for the lake.”