After an hour spent in unpacking I went out into the
grounds. I had thought it well to wire Pickering of
my arrival, and I set out for Annandale to send him a
telegram. My spirit lightened under the influences of
the crisp air and cheering sunshine. What had seemed
strange and shadowy at night was clear enough by
day.
I found the gate through which we had entered the
grounds the night before without difficulty. The stone
wall was assuredly no flimsy thing. It was built in a
thoroughly workmanlike manner, and I mentally computed
its probable cost with amazement. There were,
I reflected, much more satisfactory ways of spending
money than in building walls around Indiana forests.
But the place was mine, or as good as mine, and there
was no manner of use in quarreling with the whims of
my dead grandfather. At the expiration of a year I
could tear down the wall if I pleased; and as to the incomplete
house, that I should sell or remodel to my
liking.
On the whole, I settled into an amiable state of mind;
my perplexity over the shot of the night before was passing
away under the benign influences of blue sky and
warm sunshine. A few farm-folk passed me in the
highway and gave me good morning in the fashion of
the country, inspecting my knickerbockers at the same
time with frank disapproval. I reached the lake and
gazed out upon its quiet waters with satisfaction. At
the foot of Annandale's main street was a dock where
several small steam-craft and a number of catboats were
being dismantled for the winter. As I passed, a man
approached the dock in a skiff, landed and tied his boat.
He started toward the village at a quick pace, but turned
and eyed me with rustic directness.
"Good morning!" I said. "Any ducks about?"
He paused, nodded and fell into step with me.
"No,-not enough to pay for the trouble."
"I'm sorry for that. I'd hoped to pick up a few."
"I guess you're a stranger in these parts," he remarked,
eying me again,-my knickerbockers no doubt
marking me as an alien.
"Quite so. My name is Glenarm, and I've just come."
"I thought you might be him. We've rather been expecting
you here in the village. I'm John Morgan, caretaker
of the resorters' houses up the lake."
"I suppose you all knew my grandfather hereabouts."
"Well, yes; you might say as we did, or you might
say as we didn't. He wasn't just the sort that you got
next to in a hurry. He kept pretty much to himself.
He built a wall there to keep us out, but he needn't have
troubled himself. We're not the kind around here to
meddle, and you may be sure the summer people never
bothered him."