“There’s where the wooden nutmegs come from!” observed Bob Howard.
“My name is George Edwards, and I live there,” said our hero, pointing to the cabin, which was now in plain sight.
It looked mean and forbidding now. It was good enough for him, for he had never been accustomed to luxurious surroundings; but, if there was any faith to be put in appearances, the boys who were to be his guests until the storm was over, were the sons of wealthy parents, and he thought they would look out of place under his humble roof.
He did not then know that one of them was more familiar with life in the woods than he was, and that he had many a time been glad to crawl into a hollow log for shelter. George didn’t know, either, that his life and Bob Howard’s were destined to run along in the same channel, and that they were to be the heroes of an adventure that is talked of on the frontier until this day; but such was the fact.
CHAPTER VI.
DICK LANGDON’S SENTIMENTS.
“We are students at the Montford Academy,” said Dick Langdon. “Yesterday we asked for a short leave of absence, and came up here in search of fun and adventure.”
“And we got all we wanted of both!” chimed in Bob Howard. “Dick lost his canoe, and I lost my gun, but we caught a splendid string of fish, and I had a twenty-minute fight with a muskalonge, that I shall remember as long as I live.”
“You don’t say anything about the narrow escape we had from having our brains dashed out on those rocks,” observed Dick.
“There’s no need that I should speak of that, for George knows as much about it as we do. By-the-way, do you suppose the waves will leave anything of that canoe? Our fishing-rods were stowed in one of the lockers.”
“I am afraid you have seen them for the last time,” replied George. “But I don’t think your gun is lost beyond recovery.”