“Probably we never shall see him again anyway, so it won’t make any difference, but I should like to know more about him.”
“He seems to have been in several parts of the world, doesn’t he, Jack!”
“He surely does. I don’t wonder that he can’t tell what nationality he is.”
“Look out on the lake,” suggested Fred. “It’s as calm as a mill pond.”
“Yes,” acknowledged John. “It’s so smooth that if one didn’t know, he wouldn’t believe it possible for it to stir up such a gale as we saw there a couple of hours ago.”
“Well, there’s one comfort,” said Fred. “If it doesn’t take very long for a squall to come, it doesn’t take very long for it to go either. So we’re just about as well off as when we started.”
“Except our fish,” suggested John.
“Well, we’re carrying back some fish, though they don’t show. I don’t think I ever ate so much fish in my life as I did this noon. I think the pickerel will hold a revolutionary congress—”
“Look yonder!” interrupted John quickly. “Isn’t that the Gadabout?”
Fred instantly looked in the direction indicated by his companion and far away saw the faint outline of a small boat which plainly was headed in the direction of the bluff. “Yes,” he said after a brief silence. “I believe that’s the Gadabout.”