“Jesse,” said his uncle, “yes, I did. And being a good Indian myself, I’m going to keep my word to the paleface. We’ll take a week off with Billy’s flivver, if Billy’s mules connect with the flivver; and I’ll promise you, even now, hard hit as every trout water is all through here, the finest trout fishing—and the only grayling fishing—there is left in all America. How does that strike you?”
“Good! Where’s it going to be?” demanded Jesse.
“Never you mind. That’s a secret just yet. Billy knows.”
“And we don’t have to suppose a hundred years have elapsed?”
“No! Now turn in, fellows, or Billy’ll think we’re lazy in the morning.”