“How far from here is that lake and how do we get there?” Jack asked, as though the matter were already settled.
“Let’s see,” Bob replied slowly. “It’s twenty-eight miles from here to Jackman. We can probably get a ride that far, but from there we’ll have to strike off cross country and it must be all of eighty miles or more from there, and I don’t believe there’s even a house on the way.”
“I guess it’s a pretty wild country, but we’ve been in wild country before,” Jack said, as he drank the last of his coffee. “Come on. What’s the first move?” he asked, as he pushed back his chair.
“The first thing is to find out what time the stage leaves here for Jackman. Then we’ll have to go over to Sim’s and see what we can do in the way of picking up an outfit.” And Bob, followed by his brother, went into the office, where he found the proprietor busily engaged in sweeping the floor.
“What time does the stage leave for Jackman?” Bob asked.
“Supposed to leave right after dinner,” the man replied. “But,” he added, as he swept the dirt out the front door, “Sandy’s usually late this time er year. Roads are purtty bad and he apt not ter git here till long about two o’clock. You byes thinkin’ o’ goin’ up with him?”
“Why, yes, we thought we would,” Bob replied.
A few minutes later they were in the store across the way. Fortunately Sim had everything they needed, including sleeping bags. The storekeeper evinced a good deal of curiosity regarding their trip, and finally Bob told him all about it.
“Wall, of all things,” he said, as soon as he had finished. “I wus a readin’ ’bout that feller in the paper the other day. And you boys are agoin’ ter try ter find him, hey?”
“Try is right,” Jack assured him.