The storekeeper, a man about sixty years old, listened intently until he had finished.
“So you are goin’ ter hike it up ter Musquacook, eh,” he said slowly.
“Yes. Do you know how far it is from here?” Bob asked.
“Wall, it about sixty-five miles as the crow flies but ye’ll have ter go ’bout five miles outter yer way ter git round Churchill Lake,” the man replied. Then, as if a sudden thought struck him, he asked, “Ye don’t happen ter know what that guide’s name was, do ye?”
“No.” Bob replied. “You see, they went in from Presque Isle.”
“I see,” the man said soberly. “Course I hope yer friend’s all right but I do know that there’s some mighty onery guys what call themselves guides over that way.”
Just then a woman stuck her head in at the door and said that dinner was ready. The boys followed their host into what was evidently the combined sitting-room and dinning-room back of the store.
“We don’t put on much style here but you’re welcome to what we got,” he said as he motioned to them to sit up at the table.
In another moment the storekeeper’s wife, a motherly woman of about his age, brought in a steak which fairly made the boys gasp. She sat it on the table in front of them with a word of apology.
“If I had known that you were coming I’d have had something fit for you to eat.”