“Jim! Jim! Oh, you Jim!” they yelled shrilly.
The rower stopped and turned toward them, then altered his course, and in a few minutes was resting on his oars alongshore while, both talking at once, they poured out their story and showed him the gashed canoe. The big fellow’s face wore a look of perplexity as, with the boys in his boat and the canoe in tow, he headed for camp.
“Whar did ye say ye went when ye left th’ canoe?” he asked.
“Up to the haunted cabin,” replied Walter.
“Was the hant t’ hum?” he inquired with a grin.
“No,” said Hal, “or if he was he was mighty seclusive. Both doors were locked.”
“What’s thet ye said, son?” demanded the guide sharply, as he stopped rowing for a minute.
“I said the doors were locked and we couldn’t get in,” replied Hal.
“And there was a path down to the spring that looked as if some one had been using it,” added Walter.
“Prob’ly some lumberman been in thar fer a drink,” said the guide with an assumption of carelessness, and then lapsed into such a state of abstraction that the boys gave up trying to interest him further. He came out of it as they approached the camp.