“‘It seems the forest must have been really the camping ground of some tribe long ago, sure enough. He knew the legend, but he said he didn’t take any stock in the cliff dwellers. Anyway, these Indians wanted to pertect themselves from enemies, he said, so they moved out on the cliff facing the lake and planted that forest. He says it must o’ took two generations and more to perfect this natural fortress. Nothin’ but tree after tree, some hardly five feet apart, and they planted them in a puffect circle. It took them scientists four hull days to go around it and he said they couldn’t a-done it in that time if they hadn’t known about the circle.
“‘He sez it’s the trees make it so damp; they’re so big around and so high, no sun ever gits in. Becuz o’ the swampy groun’ the snakes love it. ’N’ with no stream anywheres about, it makes it wuss. Them days Injuns must ’a’ been hard-hearted critters.
“‘And the lake?’” I reminded him.
“‘“Yes, that’s so,” he said. Nothin’ ter thet either, accordin’ to the scientist. He sez the lake has an almost bottomless depth ’n’ becuz of its narrer basin and something ’bout an unknown source is what makes them whirlpools, ’specially when a storm’s comin’ it’s wuss. ’N’ about it bein’ hot water, he sez thet water is rich in mineral substances underneath thet throw out treemenjus heat ’n’ with the water churlin’ so crazy it’s twice as bad.
“‘So, I don’t believe in the legend no more. I miss it, too! It was a right nice little story.’”
CHAPTER XXXVIII—SOME LIGHT ON THE SUBJECT
“Do you consider yourself squelched, Westy?” Mr. Wilde teased him. “About the haunted topic, I mean?”
“No, I don’t,” Westy said and meant it. “Any lake and forest that could make a fellow feel like that is supernatural and I don’t care what any hard-boiled scientist says.”
“Tell Westy what Old Scout said about the Redmond affair, too,” Billy reminded him.
“Yes. He knew all about that story, too, from John Redmond the first. He said that he was a fine fellow, but he liked adventure and was always getting into some innocent scrape when he was a boy in England. Then he ran away from home when he heard about the first cry of gold in this country. His father was a baronet or something and his mother, the countess, was prostrated after her son went away. She almost died and it so enraged his father to see his wife go on so that he sent word to his son never to bring disgrace upon them in any way. If he did, the father wrote him, the next shock would kill his mother and he, the son, would be responsible and as good as guilty of her murder.