"How far is Three Points?"
"Six miles. Just stay on the beach."
"Reckon I'll go up there then. I've got a job waiting for me at the tannery. By the way, do you have any use for that horse?"
"A good horse can always be used on a farm. But I won't take him. I'll keep him, and you can have him any time you want." Pieter Van Hooven looked queerly at Ramsay. "You sure you want to go to Three Points?"
"I've got a job there, and I need it."
"Then go, but remember that nobody starves in Wisconsin. Marta and me, we got no money but we got everything else. You don't like it in Three Points, you might come back here?"
"I'll be glad to," Ramsay said, a little puzzled.
"Then do that, my friend."
Well-fed and rested, Ramsay walked alone up the sandy beach. Stay on the sand, Pieter Van Hooven had advised him, and he couldn't go wrong. Three Points, the tannery town, was right on the lake. Two hours after he left the Van Hoovens, Ramsay reached the village.
Three Points nestled snugly in a gap which, only recently, had been hacked out of the hemlock forest. Many big trees still stood on the edge of town, and some right in the center; and most of the houses were built of hemlock logs. There were a few, evidently belonging to Three Points' wealthier residents, that were massively built and patterned after the New England style of architecture.