“Hey?” answered the man.
“I said good morning,” repeated Fred striving to speak cheerfully.
“I hadn’t noticed. Is it?” said the man glancing toward the sky as he spoke. “Most of these mornings up here have been foggy. We have had the worst weather this summer I ever see. Seems to get worse all the time.”
“Don’t you know that Ruskin says there isn’t any bad weather? There are just different kinds of good weather.”
“Ruskin, who’s he? I never heard tell o’ him.”
“He doesn’t live here at the Sault,” acknowledged Fred. “Never mind the weather. What I want to know is can you take us in your motor-boat to Mackinac Island?”
“I guess I can,” said the man whose little reddish brown eyes narrowed as he gazed shrewdly at the boys as he spoke. “Depends on whether you got the price or not.”
“How much will you charge to take us?”
“Both of you?”
“Yes.”