As the little flotilla of ice yachts drew up close to the shore, the sound of boyish laughter must have been heard, for a man was seen approaching. He came from the direction of the cabin which they had sighted among the trees, and from the mud and stone chimney of which smoke was ascending straight into the air—a promise of continued good weather.
The boys were climbing up the bank when he reached them. So far as they could see he appeared to be a rough but genial man, and Paul believed they could easily trust him to take care of the boats while away.
“I suppose you are Abe Turner, spoken of by Mr. Garrity?” was the way Paul addressed the man, holding out his hand in friendly greeting.
The other’s face relaxed into a smile. Evidently he liked this manly looking young chap immediately, as most people did, for Paul had a peculiarly winning way about him. 99
“That’s my name, and I reckon now you must be Paul,” said the other.
“Why, how did you know that?” demanded Bobolink, in surprise.
“Oh! I had a letter from Mr. Thomas Garrity telling me all about you boys, and ordering me to do anything you might want. You see he owns all the country around here, an’ I’m holding the fort until spring, when there’s going to be some big timber cutting done. We expect to get it to market down the Radway.”
The scouts exchanged pleased looks.
“Bully for Mr. Thomas Garrity!” shouted Tom Betts, “he’s all to the good, if his conversion to liking boys did come late in life. He’s bound to make up for all the lost time now. Three cheers, fellows, for our good friend!”
They were given with a rousing will, and the echoes must have alarmed some of the shy denizens of the snow forest, for a fox was seen to scurry across an open spot, and a bevy of crows in some not far distant oak trees started to caw and call.