“They’ve gone to the lake after fish,” Jack said, accounting for the absence of the others with the first words that came to his lips.
Greer gave a quick start and leaned over to look into Jack’s face.
“Down at the lake?” he repeated. “Not out in a boat in a storm like this?”
“No,” replied Jack, gruffly, so gruffly, in fact, that the stranger caught the hostile note and turned away.
“I’m always afraid of fire on a night like this,” Greer continued in a moment, “and rarely sleep until morning. My cabin is back on the mountain a short distance, some distance above this plateau. That’s how I happened to see what was going on here.”
“Rather a lonely life,” Pat said, resolved to keep the fellow talking if he could. “Because,” he reasoned, “you can tell what’s in a man’s head if he keeps his mouth open and his tongue moving, but no one can tell the secret locked up behind closed lips.”
“Yes, it is rather lonely,” Greer replied. “I’m glad you boys are here. Going to remain long?”
“Only a few weeks—just to hunt and fish,” was Jack’s reply.
“If you don’t mind,” Greer went on, “I’ll come down and visit you now and then.”
The statement almost took the form of a question, and Jack gave a grudging answer that the visits would be a pleasure, though he believed that the man was arranging a way of watching their movements.