It was not much the latter had to place before his guests—nothing but bread and butter, a few vegetables and a cup of tea; but there were half a dozen young squirrels in Bob’s game-bag, which the owner had saved simply because it happened to be slung over his shoulder when the canoe was capsized; and when these had been cleaned and roasted over the coals, the meal was ready.
George’s long walk had given him a good appetite, and the ducking Dick and Bob had received must have had a similar effect upon them, for the edibles rapidly disappeared, and in a few minutes every bone had been picked clean.
“How did you two fellows happen to find your way to this lonely region?” asked George, as he threw more wood on the fire and drew one of the stools into the chimney corner.
“Oh, we have often heard of this lake and the fine fishing that could be enjoyed here, if one had a boat to go about in; so I sent home for my canoe,” replied Dick Langdon. “When it came, we hired a team to bring us and our trappings up here, and asked the professor for a holiday. We are to go back to-morrow night, for no student is allowed to be away from the village over Sunday, unless he is known to be at home, where he can’t get into mischief.”
“Where is your camp?”
“We haven’t any. We slept in Mr. Stebbins’ barn last night.”
“In his barn!” repeated George. “Why didn’t you go into the house?”
“Because the old fellow wouldn’t let us,” said Dick, with a laugh. “We gave him abundant proof that we were able to pay for our supper and lodging, but he would not listen to us.”
“And while he was talking to us, he held the door open just about two inches,” observed Bob. “He acted as if he was afraid of us.”
“Very likely he was,” said George. “If all reports are true, he’s got a pile of money hidden away somewhere in his house.”