“He didn’t seem to want to say much about himself,” said the storekeeper. “Appeared to be one of those close-mouthed fellows.”
Tim went across the street to the village’s one hotel and there obtained an excellent breakfast. Greatly refreshed, he went down to the river bank to make more inquiries. In front of one shanty was the sign, “BOATS FOR RENT,” and to this place Tim went at once.
The owner was a white-haired riverman and when Tim introduced himself, he found the boatman willing to talk.
“I remember the fellow well,” said the riverman, “but he didn’t say where he was going. Just asked to rent a boat for about a week and he left a cash deposit, which is all I require, seemed to know what he wanted for he picked out a good boat and started down river at once.”
There was little to be learned in that information and Tim tried another tack.
“Any strangers moved into the valley in the last year or two?” he asked.
The old man shook his head. “All the movin’ that’s done is the other way. Keeps up much longer and there won’t be anybody in the valley and no Indians to give it back to.”
“I just though there might have been some new people came in—maybe a sailor or two.”
“Nothin’ to sail around here except the clammers and they don’t sail. Only man around here that’s ever seen big water is Crazy John Boggs.”
“Who’s Crazy John?”