"Climate, I guess. My taste don't run to breakfast foods. I'd make a poor horse. So I shovelled in plenty of welsh rabbits and lobster newburgs and corn fritters and such remedies, an' washed 'em down with good beer and a few bottles of sherry. Why, sir, the treatment worked like magic! Digestion perfect--pulse reg'lar--spirits gay and unconfined--happiness rampant. That Tamawaca climate's a peach." "Do you think I can rent a cottage there?" "Sure. Ask Wilder. He'll fix you." "Is there a grocery handy, where one can purchase supplies?" "Yep. Wilder runs it." "And a meat market?" "Wilder's." "Can I rent a good boat, for fishing?" "Wilder has 'em." "Good. Dear me! I forgot to get a bathing suit in Chicago." "Never mind. Wilder's Bazaar has 'em. Two dollars for the dollar kind." "What time does the boat get to Tamawaca?" "Four o'clock in the morning. But you stay on board and ride to Kochton, and get your sleep out. Then, in the morning you take a trolley back to Tam. The steamer puts your baggage off at Iroquois Bay, just across the channel." "What becomes of it?" "Wilder ferries it over for twenty-five cents a piece. It's too far to jump." "But isn't that a heavy charge?" "Not for Wilder. It's a good deal, of course, but Wilder's deals are always good--for Wilder. You're lucky he don't take the baggage." "Oh. Is he that kind?" "Exactly. What you get, you get of Wilder. What Wilder hasn't got, you don't get. When you allow for expenses you want to figure on so many dollars for living, and so much to Wilder for letting you live." "But that's an outrage." Geo. B. laughed. "It always strikes a stranger that way--till he gets used to it," he said. "I've been to a good many summer resorts, in my day, and always there's somebody on hand to relieve the innocent resorter of his wad. If there wasn't, you'd feel you'd missed something. It's like going to law--don't matter much which lawyer you go to, you're bound to be robbed." Jarrod smiled. "Therefore, if you want Tamawaca, sir, you've just got to take Wilder with it," resumed the little man; "and perhaps you couldn't be half so happy there if Wilder was gone." "Does he own the place?" "Of course. He and old man Easton. Wilder has one-third and old man Easton two-thirds of the whole place; but then, Easton also has Wilder, just the same as all the rest of us have him." "What sort of a man is Easton?" "Fine old religious duffer, who loves to pray for your spiritual well-fare while he feels for your pocket-book. Public opinion's divided between the two partners. Some say Wilder's a highwayman and Easton's a robber, while others claim Easton's the highwayman and Wilder's the robber. You can take your choice." "What a bad state of affairs!" ejaculated Jarrod, with twinkling eyes. "I'm sorry the boat has started."