“Writing?”
“Yep.”
“What’s he writing?”
“Stories. Don’t you know about it? He’s one of them fellers that write stories for the papers and magazines. Funny sort of business to get paid for, ain’t it? But he says he gets paid, and he always has plenty of money.”
“Ah!” breathed Sleuth. “The mystery of Mr. Granger is solved. Now I understand why it is that he possesses such a vivid imagination and is so remarkably clever in spinning yarns and filling in the little details and touches. A writer of fiction, eh? Ha, ha, Mr. Granger; you’re found out.”
“But,” reminded Springer, suddenly recalling their experience upon Spirit Island, which had temporarily been forgotten because of the exciting adventure that had followed, “it doesn’t seem to me that there was much fiction abub-bout some of the stuff he tut-told us. Say, Simp, do people around here say that Spirit Island is haunted?”
“Oh, they tell such things,” answered the farmer’s son; “but I guess it’s all bosh. Granger has talked to me about it some. He seems to have an idee in his noddle that there’s really ghosts on that island. One day I saw some of the stuff he’d writ about it. Say, you know he don’t do his writin’ with a pen; no, sir, he has one of them new-fangled thingamajigs that prints the words jest as fast as he can pound ’em off with his fingers. Did you fellers ever know that folks got paid for makin’ up lies and writin’ ’em off for the papers? Don’t seem right, when other people have to work to get their money.” There was something like resentment in his manner.
“Every man to his trade,” laughed Grant. “The old shower is practically over, fellows. I hope the sun comes out good and warm, so we can dry our clothes comfortably.”
The thunder was still grumbling in the east, like the muttering of a fractious giant gradually falling asleep, and a few raindrops mingled with the dripping from the trees that continued to patter upon the tent. Beyond the mountains the sky was brightening, and soon a ray of sunshine burst through the dispersing clouds.
In a few minutes, the rain having ceased entirely, the boys opened the front of the tent and came forth to find the world looking bright and beautiful after its invigorating bath. Once more the lake was smiling in the sunlight, and the woods seemed to have taken on a fresher green, while the air, that had been heavy and humid before the storm, was clear and light and warm, without being depressing.