“Certainly,” Paul said.
“Aren’t you worried about the bad guys being around?” I said.
“Not particularly, and even if they are, they’re not going to be looking for a party of six men and a little boy,” George said. “Why don’t we go see if Uncle Cyrus is home, Mike?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, “before we go tramping around his pasture, we ought to clear it with him.”
“We’re referring to Cyrus Hall,” George said. “We call him Mr. Hall to his face, but he’s an uncle of our friend Lucinda, and she introduced him as Uncle Cyrus.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “If it hadn’t been for her introduction, he’d never have sold us the strip of land upstream from the cabin. It had been in his family for a few generations.”
“And don’t be fooled by his ‘good old boy’ persona,” George said. “Underneath that cornpone exterior is a shrewd old man.”