whiskered man who handled the paddle was not Matt Coyle or any body like him. He was one of the hotel guides who had assisted in driving the squatter out of the Indian Lake country, and he was looking for him now.
"Hallo yourself," he replied, good-naturedly. "Well, I swan to man, if there ain't Roy Sheldon and—Why, you're all here, ain't you? Say! seen any thing of Matt Coyle since you have been hanging around?"
"Mr. Swan, how are you?" exclaimed all the boys, in a breath. They knew the guide, and liked him, too.
"You have come to the right place to learn a good deal concerning Matt and his doings," continued Roy. "What has he been up to now?"
"Well, you see," answered the guide, speaking with so much deliberation that the impatient boys wanted to hurry him, "he came here last year from somewhere, and wanted to set in for a guide; but the hotels down to the lake wouldn't have him, 'cause they didn't think he was a safe man to trust with a boat, and Matt, he allowed that he'd fix things so't
