“Bill an’ me’s talked this thing all over,” announced Sipes at the breakfast table. “This damn onion-skinner’s got sump’n else in ’is head ’sides jools. He wouldn’t want to go up there an’ stick ’round jest to watch us clam-fish’n’. We’ll find out wot’s bit’n’ ’im. We’r’ goin’ to tell ’im to come on with us, an’ we want you to go too. We’ll go up there an’ start the camp an’ do some jool-fish’n’, an’ have a good time, an’ mebbe we’ll git some. That cuss bilked us on that deal last year, an’ you bet we’r’ goin’ to git square somehow. We’r’ goin’ to give ’im the third degree, an’ you jest watch us fondle ’im. All such fellers as him oughta be exported.”
Bascom was received with faultless urbanity when he came again. It was agreed that he should be simply a guest, and that operations should be resumed on the old basis. Sipes assured him that he would be made comfortable.
“You’ll have a fine time up there in them woods. You c’n fish an’ loaf ’round an’ pick posy flowers, an’ us fellers’ll find out wot’s left in the river. Cookie’s goin’ to fix up a lot o’ stuff, an’ we’ll have a fine trip. You go an’ fetch wot you want to take ’long, an’ come early tomorrer.”
The necessary preparations were made. Mike wound the Crawfish into the lake. Bascom had brought some seedy old clothes, a soft gray hat, and some high boots. His baggage was light and he appeared quite well prepared for an outing. He had some interesting maps with him, which he said would enable us to keep posted as to exactly where we were. He brought a pocket compass, some light fishing tackle, a leather gun case, and I noticed, when his coat was off, that the handle of a small revolver protruded from his left hip pocket.
John was to remain in charge of the place.
“Now don’t you take in no bad money, an’ don’t you pay out none o’ no kind w’ile we’r’ gone,” cautioned Sipes, as we climbed into the boat. “You take care o’ yerself, an’ don’t fall in the water.” He bestowed a solemn wink on the old man as the motor began to hum, and we departed, waving farewells to our faithful custodian.
The voyage to the mouth of the river was uneventful. We tied up at the old pier, and Sipes and Narcissus left us for an hour to do some errands in the village. A former experience of Narcissus in that town was disastrous, and the old man thought “somebody’d better be ’long to help Cookie carry things, fer ’e got overloaded ’ere once’t.”
Saunders and I found my small boat and tent where they had been stored during the winter, and got them out to take with us.
“That feller that Sipes is talk’n’ to up there on the hill’s the game warden,” remarked Saunders. “Wot d’ye s’pose ’e wants with ’im?”
We reëmbarked, made our way up through the marsh, and saw our old camping ground in the distance.