“I won’t be doin’ much readin’ fer several days yet,” he mumbled. “I’ll jes’ lie here quiet like and try to git me strength back.”
The girls soon left, but mischievously hid themselves behind a tree only a short ways from the cabin. Before long, Old Bill’s tousled head was thrust cautiously out the door. Seeing that the coast was clear he took up his seat in the sun and soon was lost in the depth of a bloodcurdling detective story. The girls stole quietly away.
“It’s always that way,” Madge declared. “For every honest day of labor he does, Bill rests six! I guess at that we couldn’t get along without him.”
Taking a different trail through the woods, the girls presently came to a newly constructed two-room log cabin.
“Uncle George plans to rent it out later in the summer,” Madge explained. “It’s all finished now.”
“Is it nice inside?”
“Lovely. I’ll open it up and show you.”
Madge dashed off through the woods, returned in a few minutes with the key, which after a few unsuccessful turns, unlocked the cabin door. The rooms had been furnished with rustic furniture that Mr. Brady had made himself. The unpainted log walls gave off a pleasant, fresh odor. Madge pointed out the huge stone fireplace.
“Bill will be proud of this until his dying day. He can tell you the number of stones in it too.”
“How did you ever keep him at it long enough to get it done?”