"You're too modest, Bob," replied Mr. Waterman. "You certainly have sharp eyes and know how to use them. I'll think it over and if possible I'll take you with me. I am afraid that there may be some trouble and, of course, I don't want to have anything happen to you."
"I'm part Irish," said Bob.
"What's that?" asked Mr. Waterman.
"I said that I was part Irish and you know that a real Irishman always likes to be along when there's likely to be trouble."
"You're part Irish all right," said Mr. Waterman. "I think you've kissed the blarney stone some time."
"That I did," replied Bob, merrily. "I can remember my father holding me down from the tower by my heels to kiss the stone. If there's any virtue in having kissed the famous stone, I ought to have my share, for I skinned both my knee and my nose in doing the stunt."
"I didn't know that you had ever been in Ireland," said Mr. Waterman.
"Oh, yes, my father took me there one summer when I was a little fellow," replied Bob, innocent enough.
In the meantime they had reached the head of the lake. Mr. Waterman made off at once with the canoe as he said that they would be late for supper if they didn't hurry. He kept Bob hustling to keep up with him, stopping only once on the way. That was on the last portage when they came to the spot where Bob had noted the trampled bushes. Mr. Waterman looked very carefully at the marks and went on apparently satisfied.
"What did you notice this time that you didn't observe before?" asked Bob.