"I thought so myself, Bess. But we do not have to plant his family tree. Now don't be a baby, girlie," and Cora squeezed the plump hand that hung so close to her own. "Let us get to the shack, and see if the boys' boat is about there. I am determined to run down Jim Peters."
Bess sighed. When Cora was determined! But the man had left the water's edge.
"Cora, see!" said Bess. "He is getting into a boat!"
"Yes and the boat belongs to Peters. There! He is surely the one who helps Jim out in all his affairs. Now we may seek the shack in safety," said Cora, as she watched the man at the water's edge push off. "I know the shack is over there, for I smell smoke in that direction. But we will turn the other way until he has cleared off," finished Cora as she and Bess stepped lightly over the dainty ferns that nestled in the damp earth.
"He is quite a boatman," remarked Bess, watching the man ply his oars, and make rapid progress up the lake.
"Yes, he must have been brought up near the water," replied Cora. "They say such skill as that is not accomplished on dry land. Jack always declared he could tell a fellow at college who had ever been near the water when a lad. They take to it like a duck."
"You can easily see that he is a foreigner," went on Bess with her speculations. "He must either be an Italian or a Spaniard."
"Now we may turn up the path. Yes this is a path, for everything is trodden down on it," declared Cora. "I hope the hut will not be too deep in the wood."
"We won't go if it is," objected Bess. "I don't fancy being taken captive by any wild woods clan."
"There," exclaimed Cora. "I just caught sight—of—it's a woman's skirt!"