Looking up, Mr. Temple noted two cliffs identical in appearance on either side of the lake.
“Twin Cliffs, I calls ’em,” explained Uncle Jeb. “Jes’ like twins excep’ thet the one has a hollow underneath. Regular nestin’ place fer eagles in the winter and sometimes in the summer. Durn good place to keep away frum.”
“I suppose so,” Mr. Temple agreed.
Suddenly Uncle Jeb’s eyes were fixed intently on the ground.
Then he pointed.
There was nothing so startling that Mr. Temple could see but a few small holes and some footprints here and there. Also, some blackened embers, evidently the remnants of campfires long since dead, that had been blown hither and thither by the mischievous summer breezes.
“What,” Mr. Temple asked, “would that signify?”
“Them surveyors,” Uncle Jeb replied with a rueful shake of his head. “They come as fur as here and they didn’t go back and they didn’t go on.”
He was now gazing significantly up a trail that led up to the hollow that he had previously pointed out.
“Do you think by any chance they were up there?” Mr. Temple asked anxiously.