They had come from far up the Ramapo river; beyond Suffern.
And the long downstream jaunt had made them hungry.

Wherefore, as they reached mid-lakes they began to inspect the wooded shores for an attractive luncheon-site.

And they found what they sought.
A half-mile to southward, a gently rolling point of land pushed out into the lake.

It was smooth-shaven and emerald-bright.

It formed the lower end of a lawn; sloping gently downward, a hundred yards or more, from a gray old house which nestled happily among mighty oaks on a plateau at the low hill's summit.
The point (with its patch of beach-sand at the water's edge, and with comfortable shade from a lakeside tree or so), promised an ideal picnic-ground.