"Eddie!" I yelled, "are you dead?"
There was a stir this time and a deep growl. It seemed to take the form
of words, at length, and I caught, or fancied I did, the query as to
what time it was; whereupon I laboriously fished up my watch and
announced in clear tones that the hand was upon the stroke of six. Also
that it was high time for children of the forest to bestir themselves.
At this there was another and a deeper growl, ending with a single
syllable of ominous sound. I could not be sure, but heard through the
folds of a sleeping-bag, the word sounded a good deal like hell and I
had a dim conviction that he was sending me there, perhaps realizing
that I was cold. Then he became unconscious again, and I had no more
shoes.
Yet my efforts had not been without effect. There was a nondescript stir
in the guides' tent, and presently the head of Charles, sometimes called
the Strong, protruded a little and was withdrawn. Then that of Del, the
Stout, appeared and a little later two extraordinary semi-amphibious
figures issued--wordless and still rocking a little with sleep--and with
that deliberate precision born of long experience went drabbling after
fuel and water that the morning fire might kindle and the morning pot be
made to boil.
They were clad in oilskins, and the drapery of Charles deserves special
attention. It is likely that its original color had been a flaunt of
yellow, and that it had been bedizened with certain buttonholes and hems
and selvages and things, such as adorn garments in a general way of
whatever nature or sex. That must have been a long time ago. It is
improbable that the oldest living inhabitant would be able to testify
concerning these items.
Observing him thoughtfully as he bent over the wet ashes and skillfully
cut and split and presently brought to flame the little heap of wood he
had garnered, there grew upon me a realization of the vast service that
suit of oilskins must have rendered to its owners--of the countless
storms that had beaten upon it; of the untold fires that had been
kindled under its protection; of the dark, wild nights when it had
served in fording torrents and in clambering over slippery rocks, indeed
of all the ages of wear and tear that had eaten into its seams and
selvages and hues since the day when Noah first brought it out of the
Ark and started it down through the several generations which had ended
with our faithful Charles, the Strong.
I suppose this is just one of those profitless reflections which is
likely to come along when one is still tangled up in a sleeping-bag,
watching the tiny flame that grows a little brighter and bigger each
moment and forces at last a glow of comfort into the tent until the
day, after all, seems worth beginning, though the impulse to begin it is
likely to have diminished. I have known men, awake for a long time, who
have gone on to sleep during just such morning speculations, when the
flames grew bright and brighter and crackled up through the little heap
of dry branches and sent that glow of luxury into the tent. I remember
seeing our guide adjust a stick at an angle above the fire, whereby to
suspend a kettle, and men, suddenly, of being startled from somewhere--I
was at the club, I think, in the midst of a game of pool--by a wild
whoop and the spectacle of Eddie, standing upright in the little runway
between our beds, howling that the proper moment for bathing had
arrived, and kicking up what seemed to me a great and unnecessary stir.
[Illustration: "Not to take the morning dip ... was to manifest a sad
lack of the true camping spirit."]
The idea of bathing on such a morning and in that primitive costume had
not, I think, occurred to me before, but I saw presently there was
nothing else for it. A little later I was following Eddie, cringing from
the cold, pelting rain, limping gingerly over sharp sticks and pebbles
to the water's edge. The lake was shallow near the shore which meant a
fearful period of wading before taking the baptismal plunge that would
restore one's general equilibrium. It required courage, too, for the
water was icy--courage to wade out to the place, and once there, to make
the plunge. I should never have done it if Eddie had not insisted that
according to the standard text-books the day in every well-ordered camp
always began with this ceremony. Not to take the morning dip, he said,
was to manifest a sad lack of the true camping spirit. Thus prodded, I
bade the world a hasty good-by and headed for the bottom. A moment later
we were splashing and puffing like seals, shouting with the fierce,
delightful torture of it--wide awake enough now, and marvelously
invigorated when all was over.
[Illustration: "Catching it in the skillet as it fell, compelled
admiration"]
We were off after breakfast--a breakfast of trout and flapjacks--the
latter with maple sirup in the little eating tent. The flapjacks were
Del's manufacture, and his manner of tossing the final large one into
the air and catching it in the skillet as it fell, compelled admiration.
The lake was fairly smooth and the rain no longer fell. A gray
morning--the surface of the water gray--a gray mantle around the more
distant of the islands, with here and there sharp rocks rising just
above the depths. It was all familiar enough to the guides, but to me it
was a new world. Seated in the bow I swung my paddle joyously, and even
with our weighty load it seemed that we barely touched the water. One
must look out for the rocks, though, for a sharp point plunged through
the bottom of a canoe might mean shipwreck. A few yards away, Eddie and
his guide--light-weight bodies, both of them--kept abreast, their
appearance somehow suggesting two grasshoppers on a straw.
It is six miles across Kedgeemakoogee and during the passage it rained.
When we were about half-way over I felt a drop or two strike me and saw
the water about the canoe spring up into little soldiers. A moment later
we were struck on every side and the water soldiers were dancing in a
multitude. Then they mingled and rushed together. The green islands were
blotted out. The gates of the sky swung wide.
[Illustration: "To put on a pair of waders like that in the front end of
a canoe in a pouring rain is no light matter."]
Of course it was necessary to readjust matters. Del drew on his oilskins
and I reached for my own. I had a short coat, a sou'wester, and a pair
of heavy brown waders, so tall that they came up under my arms when
fully adjusted. There was no special difficulty in getting on the hat
and coat, but to put on a pair of waders like that in the front end of a
canoe in a pouring rain is no light matter. There seemed no good place
to straighten my legs out in order to get a proper pull. To stand up was
to court destruction, and when I made an attempt to put a leg over the
side of the canoe Del admonished me fearfully that another such move
would send us to the bottom forthwith. Once my thumbs pulled out of the
straps and I tumbled back on the stores, the rain beating down in my
face. I suppose the suddenness of the movement disturbed the balance of
the boat somewhat, for Del let out a yell that awoke a far-away loon,
who replied dismally. When at last I had the feet on, I could not get
the tops in place, for of course there was no way to get them anywhere
near where they really belonged without standing up. So I had to remain
in that half-on and half-off condition, far from comfortable, but more
or less immune to wet. I realized what a sight I must look, and I could
hardly blame Eddie for howling in derision at me when he drew near
enough to distinguish my outline through the downpour. I also realized
what a poor rig I had on for swimming, in event of our really capsizing,
and I sat straight and still and paddled hard for the other side.
It was not what might be termed a "prolonged and continuous downpour."
The gray veil lifted from the islands. The myriad of battling soldiers
diminished. Presently only a corporal's guard was leaping and dancing
about the canoe. Then these disappeared. The clouds broke away. The sun
came. Ahead of us was a green shore--the other side of Kedgeemakoogee
had been reached.