“I found him. Simpson left me, that he might return to his arduous labors upon his father’s farm. Alone, I approached the log cabin, which is temporarily occupied by Charles Granger. As I drew near, the clicking of a typewriter came to my ears, and I perceived that the cabin door was standing open to admit air and sunshine. With the stealthy tread of a redskin I slipped up to that door and peered in. There was the author, hard at work, his typewriter mounted on a little table and sheets of manuscript scattered all about. He was so absorbed that he did not hear me, and for some moments I watched him in silence. Presently he lifted his head and sat back to meditate, without doubt, upon the clever construction of some involved sentence. Chancing to turn his eyes in my direction, he perceived me and jumped to his feet as if shot. “I will not pretend,” proceeded Piper, “that Granger was pleased on beholding me. In fact, he seemed much annoyed, and in fervid language he desired to know what I was doing there. Beaming on him in a friendly fashion, I entered and explained that I had heard he was a writer of fiction, and that, therefore, my curiosity had been awakened and spurred to a two-minute clip. After a time, perceiving perhaps no token of guile in my demeanor, Granger cooled down and laughed over the start I had given him. He was genuinely pleasant and friendly, and we chatted for some time. He even showed me one or two of his stories in a publication, but he admitted that far more came back than were accepted and paid for.” “Well, did yeou hang araound there all the afternoon?” asked Crane. “Indeed, no, comrade—indeed, no,” replied Piper. “I will admit that my call was more or less protracted, but, on perceiving that the genial host was becoming aweary, I took the hint and departed. Having for some time felt the desire to visit the hotel, I seized the opportunity. It is a splendid establishment for the entertainment of the summer vacationist with a long purse and a yearning desire to be separated from his good money, and it seems to be prospering. Why should it not, having near at hand such attractions as Lovers’ Leap and the haunted island?” “But the bub-boat,” said Springer—“where did you get the bub-boat?” “At the boathouse connected with the hotel. They have boats of various kinds for the pleasure of the guests, and, for my own special use, I hired the one in which you saw me returning. Had to plank down four dollars a week for its use, and pay the first four bones in advance.” “Yeou extravagant boob!” cried Sile. “I didn’t knew yeou had four whole dollars to yeour name.” “Indeed,” said Sleuth loftily, “I have much more than that; but a man of wealth seldom boasts of his possessions.” “It was right thoughtful of you to hire a boat,” said Grant. “One canoe was not sufficient for the whole of us, but now we can all go fishing on the lake at the same time, if we wish.”