His small guide commenced the process of becoming acquainted by asking Jet's name.
"David Small," was the prompt reply. "What's your's?"
"Jim Crosby."
Then Jet was obliged to explain considerably more about himself; he said he lived in Albany, sold news papers there, and, having laid by a little money, concluded to see what the Adirondack region looked like.
"If you don't have to go back too soon, I'll show you the whole place," Jim replied, with an air of profound wisdom such as one might have expected from the oldest inhabitant in the vicinity.
Then the small guide went on to explain where he proposed to take his friend and patron, and before his recital was finished the wagon stopped at the lake side.
Here everything was in a state of seeming confusion. Sportsmen and tourists were setting out for their respective destinations; but Jet had no thought for any, save the two he had followed so far.
"You hire a boat, and I'll stay here," he said to Jim, who hurried away, leaving him where he could see all who left the shore by the water-way.
Again fortune favored him.
Bob and Sam had just concluded their arrangements for a craft, and were loading it not more than twenty yards away.