“Just a minute, please. Hadn’t you better find out our business before you make up your mind as to what you will or won’t do?” asked Garry, as an angry red flush overspread his face. Garry was an extremely civil boy, and expected others to be the same, and when he received uncourteous attention was apt to resent it deeply.
“Well, what do you want?” asked the manager, still in an ungracious tone.
“My name is Boone, and the owner of these cuttings happens to be my father. Didn’t you get a letter from him telling of our expected arrival?”
A great change came over the manner of the manager. A smirking smile took the place of the frown and he advanced with outstretched hand.
“I hope you will pardon me. I have been bothered to death for the past few days by summer campers asking to pitch tents and build cabins and what not on the cutting, and I thought from your appearance that you boys were more of the same tribe,” he said with an attempt to smooth out the awkward situation and make up by a show of cordiality the blunder he realized he had made.
Privately, Garry thought him very ill-mannered and felt he should have made more inquiries before showing his temper. Still he said nothing and accepted the hand of the manager, who said his name was Barrows.
Garry then introduced his chums and explained that they intended to stay awhile and camp somewhere in the vicinity and watch the lumbering as well as getting some fishing.
“I understand that there are two lakes in the neighborhood,” remarked Garry, “and so we ought to get some good fishing.” At the mention of the word lakes, Barrows looked sharply at the boys, then said:
“Oh, yes, you will get plenty of fishing, but you will find that the small lake to the west of here is better than the big one that lies to the north of us. The state stocked the little lake sometime ago by special request of your father, and I hear there are some very good bass and pickerel to be found there. The reports about the larger lake are not so encouraging. Also there are two or three small streams,—brooks perhaps it would be better to call them,—where you will find some excellent trout. Then at the small lake there is a good stretch of sandy beach where you can swim whenever you want to. Altogether you will find the small lake is the most likely place for a summer playground.”
For a moment Garry wondered at the insistence of the manager in always bringing the “small” lake into the conversation, but dismissed the matter with the thought that the manager was simply trying to make amends for his ungraciousness of the previous moment by showing them where they could best enjoy themselves. Later he was to find that he was mistaken.