This turned the laugh on Springer, who sought in vain to make a sufficiently sarcastic retort, and became so excited through the effort that he stammered more than usual. “Oh, start up your old nag again, Dutch,” urged Crane. “Yeou and Springer both murder language in a criminal fashion.” “Maype dot peen so,” admitted the lad on the wagon; “but it iss py our mouths we talk, undt not our noses through.” With which solid shot he chirruped to the old horse, and the wagon creaked onward once more. “It sure seems to me,” laughed Grant, “that Mr. Carl Duckelstein isn’t near as sleepy as he looks. As we’ve engaged him to bring us butter, eggs and milk daily, he may provide some amusement for us.” In a few moments, the road taking a bend through the trees, they set the woods ringing with shouts of satisfaction, for before them they caught a glimpse of the placid blue waters of Phantom Lake. Soon the broad sweep of the sheltered island-dotted lake, with a range of mountainous hills rising directly from the shore at the further side, opened out before them, the prospect being one to make their youthful hearts beat swiftly. Eight miles in length and fully half as far across at its widest point, the forest-surrounded, mountain-sentineled strip of water was one of the most picturesque sheets to be found in old New England, remaining as yet unspoiled by too many swarming campers and resorters, although a newly opened hotel near the base of the highest and most precipitous cliff of the range of hills was attracting increasing numbers of the latter class. From Pleasant Point, which the Oakdale boys had now reached, the hotel far across the lake could be glimpsed amid the green foliage at the base of the purple cliff. Springer capered like a colt, shouting again in joyous abandon as he ran out on the point to get a good view of his surroundings. “It’s gug-great, fellows,” he cried—“simply great! This is a corking place to camp. Why, here’s deep water on one side right off the rocks, and a cove with a sandy beach on the other sus-side. Gee whiz! it’s fine.” The enthusiasm of the others, excepting, of course, the seemingly stolid German lad, was scarcely less unrestrained. “It certain is all right,” was the decision of Rod Grant. “I’ll admit it beats anything to be found in Rogers County, Texas.” “Here’s a rippin’ place to go in swimmin’ right off the rocks,” announced Crane, inspecting one side of the point. “Looks like a feller can dive off into ten foot of water. By glory! we sartain ought to have fun here.” “Come over here,” called Stone from the other side. “Come on over, fellows. Here’s a place where we can land with our canoe when we get it over from Pemstock.” With one foot crossed over the other, Sleuth Piper leaned on the muzzle of the shotgun, in imitation of the pictured pose of some scout or trapper he had seen on the cover of such a lurid yarn as pleased his fancy, calmly surveying the prospect from the most sightly spot of the point.