She did not attempt an answer but waited until he drew nearer the landing. He came at a brisk pace, carrying his fifty-two years with a jaunty vigor that was the envy of many a younger man. His ruddy cheeks were framed in a healthy tan acquired by a life-long devotion to the out-of-doors and his alert, blue eyes snapped with the joy of being alive.
“Where away, Chick-a-dee?” he inquired with interest.
“I thought I’d paddle over to Stewart Island,” Madge informed. “Do you want the canoe, Uncle George?”
“No, you’re welcome to it, only I wonder if you noticed the clouds.” Mr. Brady turned to survey the horizon. “It looks to me as though a storm may blow up. It probably won’t amount to much but I believe you’ll be safer in the skiff.”
“Oh, bother!” Madge grumbled, casting an aggrieved glance at the boat. “It would take me all day to get over to the island in that cumbersome thing!”
After a brief study of the sky she thought better of it and reluctantly launched the skiff. She bent to the oars and with practiced skill sent the craft skimming over the water. Rounding the point, she lost sight of her aunt and uncle who had turned back toward the Brady lodge.
Madge had arrived at Loon Lake only three days before, but already she found herself slipping naturally back into the easy, carefree ways of a wilderness environment. She sniffed the fragrant balsam air contentedly and allowed the boat to drift while she watched a long-necked crane sail majestically over the water.
“Oh, I wish the summers were years and years long,” she thought wistfully. “I could live here forever and never tire of it.”
Madge always looked forward to the vacations spent at the Brady’s Canadian fishing lodge, located on secluded Lake Loon, in a timber berth twenty miles from the nearest town of Luxlow. During the remaining nine months of the year, she lived with her aunt and uncle at Claymore, Michigan, but since Mr. Brady was an enthusiastic fisherman, each summer saw the trio headed northward.
Madge regarded Mr. and Mrs. Brady as parents for her mother had died when she was a baby and a short time later, her father, Graham Sterling had gone West on a prospecting expedition, never to be heard from again. Although the Bradys had built their lodge for private use, they had been induced to open it to a small number of select guests who appreciated good food and excellent fishing. Madge did not mind the extra work which fell to her lot since she always had time for the things she enjoyed. She liked all outdoor sports. She swam like a fish and was an expert with a canoe. Then too, she had a special talent for making friends and knew everyone in the vicinity of Loon Lake, including the guides, the tourists and the forest rangers.