Aunty: “This box has got soap! Not eggs!”
Polly: “I’m game for the next event!”
For supper we had beans, flapjacks, and tea. For beds, fir balsam.
I think that Aunt and Boris prefer the comforts of home. The Prince
certainly has her ear, and when I surprise them in one of their
long and confidential interviews, they act like a couple of
arch-conspirators. But he is very nice just now and it is my last
chance for a fling, isn’t it?
* * * * *
We had a carry to Lake Kootchie, the second day, then a long portage
and four miles of paddling to the end of Big Smoke this morning, and
ended the day at Lake Bear. Checkers and Boris played cards on making
camp, and after gambling for a while, it looked as if the Prince saw
things were not going his way, so he stopped to arrange his fishing
tackle. Checkers screwed up his eyebrows at me and winked.
For supper--pea-soup, fish, and prunes.
Second Day’s remarks:
Sybil: “The loons are so jolly. I want to take one home.”
Checkers: “Every minute I like it better.”
Aunt: “The beds are so hard--sno-r-r-r-r-oh!”
Prince (gazing soulfully at me): “To rescue beautiful ladies--ah, it
is heaven.”
Confession: I let the Prince kiss my hand. After all, he saved my
life, you know. You weren’t here and I had to have somebody kiss it.
* * * * *
Breaking camp at seven-thirty a short but pretty portage brought us to
the three Bonnecherre and then to Lake Rod and Gun where we are now
tenting. Butter-ball ducks flew by on the way, and we saw a few
partridges and deer, but not much big game, for moose are farther
north. Last night was an eventful one; wolves howled, the wind blew,
the rain descended. Suddenly our tent fell down amid loud cries for
help. Boris came to our rescue, but tripped over a rope and stood on
his head from whence issued a flood of Russian. Which, if I could have
understood it, would probably have paralyzed me for a week. Later a
muskrat came and ate up all our chocolate.
Third Day’s remarks at supper:
Aunt: “Oh, but I’m so tired! I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Checkers: “I’m hungry! I’d like to be the muskrat.”
Sybil: (Holding his hand under cover of her poncho) “I’m a frozen dog,
but I’m having the time of my life.”
Prince (_sotto voce_): “Only forty-eight hours more.”
Polly: “Can’t be too few for me.”
_Later._
A. D., I’ve made an awful mistake! I was too good to the Prince and he
took advantage of it. In fact he was pretty naughty. You see he
thought we were quite alone this afternoon, the others had gone
fishing, and before I knew what he was doing, he entered my tent and
had me in his arms, kissing my hair, my eyes, my mouth. I screamed and
one of the guides ran in. Boris cursed him for interfering, so I
simply asked the man to remain. There was nothing for the Prince to do
but walk out. Then the guide looked at me funnily and said that the
canoe didn’t tip over that time in the wind, that Boris had hired him
to upset it, the spot being fairly shallow and perfectly safe.
Apparently our Russian wanted to get the credit of an heroic rescue.
So you were right after all. He’s not to be trusted.
Also, there is a very queer thing that your little Sherlock Holmes has
just discovered. He’s had letters come to him over another name, not
in the least like his own. They fell out of his pocket when he was
struggling with me. I picked them up--one was marked up in the corner
with the name of some antique dealer. Can Boris be selling Peppi’s
pictures? Is that the mysterious “business” that takes him from one
big city to another? When you get back to Washington, ask about him at
the Russian Embassy. Oh give me a good straight American man, say I!
We’re about a hundred miles north of Toronto now. One day more and
then we leave for home.
* * * * *
Fourth Day. A gray mist and an early start. I insisted on going in
Checkers’ canoe. Boris and I are not speaking. Our two mile portage
led to Rock Lake. Saw a bear and caught some trout and bass for
supper. Railway in sight. To celebrate our last meal we indulged in a
bonfire, had soup and a welsh rarebit, and gambled late into the night
by the light of candles stuck into broken bottles.
Fourth Day’s Remarks:
Aunt: “Fiddlesticks! What’s all this trouble about?”
Checkers: “Bow wow.”
Sybil: “Meow, meow.”