“Enclosing the territory within which it is probable that our old friend the wrecker had his cabin,” continued Bee, warming to his lecture. “It stands to reason, though, that he wouldn’t build very near the apex of the triangle—that is, near the beach—because he would be less protected there than farther up the slope. And we have already decided that he didn’t build on top of the hill. So, then, we have a very small territory left, hardly more than a hundred by, say, fifty. Get that, Hal?”
“I do not! What’s more, I refuse to listen to your ravings any longer. I’m sorry I brought you here. I—”
“Well, you see what I mean, don’t you, Jack?”
“Yes, and I guess your reasoning is all right, Bee. Only—”
“Only what?”
“Only it’s a fair guess that if we ever do find out where Old Verny had his cabin it’ll be somewhere we never thought of.”
“It can’t be,” replied Bee, “because I’ve thought of every place there is! Now come over here and let’s look about. If we know that he had his place somewhere within the territory—er—specified—”
“We don’t know it,” said Hal. “We’ve only got your word for it. And you talk so many words that no one knows what you’re saying. You fellows go and look, if you want to. I’m going to sleep.” And Hal slid down to the ground, put his shoulders against the rock, pulled his hat over his face and evinced every intention of carrying out his threat.
Bee observed him in pained disgust. “Honest, Hal, I’ve a good mind to leave you out of the Company. You don’t take any interest at all in things! Come on, Jack.”