“Of course, of course you have, strangers,” went on Johnson. “No offense. Have you struck a trace of it yet?”
“Not yet,” replied Mr. Snodgrass. “To tell you the truth,” the professor went on, “we don’t know much about this lost lake.”
“Nor no one else,” said Johnson. “I’ll tell you all I know, which isn’t much. I’ve been looking for it ’most a year now.”
“Suppose we have supper first,” suggested the professor as he noted the eyes Johnson was casting at the food. “We can talk afterward.”
“That’s the best word I’ve heard in a good while,” said the newcomer.
He ate with a rapidity that left no doubt about his hunger. Nor were the others far behind him, as the crisp air of the mountain region had given them all famous appetites.
“Now for Lost Lake,” spoke Jerry when all had their fill.
“It’s supposed to be in those mountains over there,” began Johnson, pointing to the range off in the west, now dimly discernible in the dusk. “It’s said to be a beautiful sheet of water, with high peaks all around it. It was discovered forty years ago by a prospector, and he came to the nearest village with the news. But when he went to lead a party back they couldn’t find the trail. Ever since then people have tried to find Lost Lake, but no one has ever succeeded. Many have been killed trying.”
“But why does any one want to find a lake hidden in the mountains?” asked Mr. Snodgrass.
“Yes, tell us?” asked Ned.