"And then don't forget, Will," continued Frank, "that Mr. Dennison admitted to us he was fond of photography. Gilbert said as much, too, when he spoke about having a set of your Maine pictures printed to show his uncle. You may get on good terms with this singular old man, and have some mighty pleasant times in his company."
"He looks pretty severe," commented Will, "but then there's a reason for that, I guess; and once he gets thawed out he'll be a different sort. Nothing like finding a fellow's pet hobby and working it, to make him friendly."
None of them thought to go far away during that afternoon. It did not look very promising, for clouds could be seen hovering along the horizon, the heat was intense, and all of them agreed that a storm might creep up.
Their last experience in a storm had been so unpleasant that somehow they seemed to shrink involuntarily from a repetition so soon. Later on, when the memory became fainter, they might again take risks, after the manner of buoyant youth the world over.
Bluff and Jerry were pleased with their work on the boat. They had taken great pains this time, and felt sure the calking was there to stay. Still, they contented themselves with planning another fishing excursion for the coming morning. Bluff had discovered a place where minnows were very plentiful, and hence they could be assured of a good haul at any time, with but little exertion.
The day was nearing an end, and there was some talk of getting supper ready when a cry from Jerry outside the cabin brought the others hurrying forth.
They found him talking with a small boy who seemed greatly excited, for his face was peaked and white, and terror could be seen in his dilated eyes.
Apparently he had hurried in a veritable panic through the forest, for he had various scratches on his face, and a lump on his forehead showed where he had struck a stone after tripping over a root or a vine.
Naturally Frank and the other two were at once filled with curiosity to know who the boy was, and what had brought him to Cabin Point. Jerry had already started to question the panting lad, and the other was trying to explain, although his words came in jerks and disjointed sentences.
"I'm Sandy Moogs—my dad's a woodchopper—workin' now up yonder 'bout three miles—tree fell on him—broke his leg, he reckons—in a heap o' pain—can't hardly crawl—knowed you-uns was at Cabin Point—sent me to git help—he sez as how he'll bleed to death by mawnin' if he ain't helped—I hopes as how you'll kim along with me—he's my dad, you know!"