"We haven't voted yet whether we want to go on to the village or to the ravine," now said Ruth.
"I'd like to visit the old Indian canoe-maker, and have a chat with him," said Joan.
"His time is money, so he will charge us for chatting," returned Julie, grinning.
"I think Joan's idea of visiting the Indian a good one, girls; why not go there instead of to either of the other places?"
The Captain's suggestion was agreed upon, and the scouts turned in at the willow-arched walk that led to the Indian's hut. A wide brook ran under the willows, and here they saw several canoes waiting to be used. The pathway that ran alongside the brook was littered with rubbish of all kinds,—the accumulation of years of slovenly housekeeping and lazy carpenter work out of doors.
But it was evident that the Indian was neither slovenly nor lazy when it pertained to making canoes. Every canoe there was a splendid example of workmanship. When the scouts reached the door, the owner came out to see them.
"Morn'," said he, bowing seriously to his visitors.
"Are you Mike, the Indian?" asked Mrs. Vernon, after acknowledging the salutation.
"Me Mike—wan'da canoe?"
"No, we came to visit you. We are friends of Mr. Gilroy's," explained the Captain.