“If we do,” proposed Tom, “what say we invite in our new friend, Bill Brown, and make it a party?”
“Good old Bill! He’s going to call on Captain Van Alstyne today about his Injun warning. Wonder how he’ll make out.”
“Well, he wasn’t overly hopeful, you know. He maintains that the Captain is a complete donkey.”
From the village a fairly well-worn Indian trail led northward along the shore. The progress of the two young fishermen was, therefore, steady and not too arduous; but the rocky point proved to be somewhat farther from the fort than they had been led to believe.
“These western miles are longer than the ones we have back east,” stated Tom emphatically, as he rested for a moment on a rock and gazed out over the wide expanse of blue-green water.
“Just what I was thinking, Tom. I’d call this more like six miles than four from the feel of my leg muscles. But perk up! Isn’t that the rocks about a half-mile ahead?”
“Maybe so. There’s some sort of a point sticking out in the lake. Must be the place.”
Vastly encouraged, now that the goal was close at hand, the two red-heads pressed forward at a faster rate.
“Say, Ben,” said Tom presently, slackening his pace, “there’s someone there ahead of us.”
“By George, there is!”