Jack meanwhile was not saying much, but observing the gentleman. It struck him that the other was trying to make himself very agreeable; and somehow he could not help remembering the fable that Herb had spoken about so recently. Having failed to scare the motor boat boys off by stern means, were milder tactics about to be adopted now?
Presently the other thought he ought to introduce himself.
“I am Professor Herman Marshland, of Ann Arbor,” he said, modestly.
So Herb started to tell just who they were, and how they happened to be knocking around on the St. Lawrence at this time.
“Have you been stopping long in this cove?” asked the other, in what he doubtless intended to have appear as a casual way; but Jack saw that he seemed to set more store by the question than surface indications would indicate.
“Why, sure, we have, Professor,” George said. “We might have gone on before now, but we just hate to leave under fire, you see.”
“Excuse me, but I hardly grasp your meaning, I fear,” remarked the gentleman, with one of his winning smiles.
“Well, you see, some persons appear to have taken offense because we’ve monopolized their dandy cove here. And they’ve been trying in all sorts of ways to shoo us away. Last night they threatened to run us down with a speed launch that came buzzing around that point of the island there. And then, would you believe it, sir, they even went so far as to attempt to scare up-to-date American boys, by setting up a silly ghost game on us.”
“What’s that you say?” remarked the gentleman, interrupting George. “A ghost? Now, that’s right in my line, you see. I’ve been making a study of all manner of strange and incomprehensible manifestations along that line for five years. In that time I’ve investigated dozens of so-called haunted houses. Why, you arouse my interest at once to fever heat, my young friends.”
“And did you ever discover a real, genuine bona fide ghost, sir?” asked Josh.