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The
wind's with them coming back; it was with them part of the way going!"
Anton Farwell sat on the steps of the Lodge, his dogs peacefully lying at
his feet. All day, since hearing of the boys' trip, he had been restless
and anxious. Farwell had his bad hours often, but he rarely permitted
himself companionship at such times, but to-day, after his noon meal, he
had been unable to keep away from the Lodge.
"Fall's setting in early," Mrs. McAdam went on; "pickerel come; whitefish
go. Beasts and fish and birds ken a lot, Mr. Farwell."
"They certainly do. The more you live with dumb creatures, the more you
are impressed with that. Is that Sandy's dog, Mrs. McAdam?"
A yellow, lank dog came sniffing around the side of the house and lay
down, friendly wise, by Farwell.
"Yes, and he's a cute one. Do you believe me, Mr. Farwell, that there
Bounder knows the engine of our boat! Any other boat can come into the
Channel and he don't take any notice, but let my boys be out late and
Bounder, lying asleep on the floor, will start up at the chugging of the
launch and make for the dock.


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