“I see. Can you tell me how much water there is in that channel out yonder?” He pointed toward the mouth of the inlet, where the two lines of creaming breakers approached each other, but did not meet.
“No—no, I am sorry, but I can't.”
“How deep is it off here opposite where we're standing?”
“Dear me! I'm afraid I don't know that, either. When you asked concerning the lay of the land I didn't understand you meant the—ah—lay of the water. I'm very sorry.”
The man laughed. “That's all right,” he said. “Asked my question the wrong way, didn't I? Well, tell me a little about the land, then. Are the woods the other side of that hill or only on this?”
Galusha informed him concerning the extent of the pine grove. The stranger asked some questions about the course of the creek above the bridge, the distance from the main highway, whether the land beyond the hill was settled or unoccupied. His final question was concerning the Restabit Inn.
“Any other hotels around here within ten miles?” he asked. When told there were not, he merely nodded, making no comment.
“Well, I'm much obliged,” he said. “I was just loafing around and a little curious, that's all. Thanks. Hope I haven't kept you too long. Good-day.”
Galusha followed the winding path up the face of the high bluff. When, having reached its top, he paused to get fresh breath in place of that he had lost, he looked down and saw his questioner standing where he had left him and, apparently, still admiring the view.
The following afternoon they saw each other again. This time the stranger was on the other side of the creek, wandering about at the edge of the pine grove. He acknowledged Galusha's bow with a wave of the hand, but he did not come nearer to ask more questions.