“Well?” demanded Plum, questioningly.
“I am--am staggered, Plum.”
“Why?”
“This doesn’t look like a lake, does it?”
“Sure not, Jack.”
“Well, the last time I was here it was a boiling, writhing lake, and that mound you see yonder was an island in the middle.”
“Gosh all hemlock, Jack! Yeou don’t mean it!”
“I assuredly do.”
“There ain’t a drop o’ water around here neow!”
“I know it and that is what puzzles me.”