It was by no means an unpleasant camp, first and last. It was our
"Farthest North" for one thing, our deepest point in the wilderness. It
would require as much as three or four days travel, even by the quickest
and most direct route to reach any human habitation, and in this thought
there was charm. It was a curious place, too, among those roots and
springs, and the brook there formed a rare pool for bathing. While the
others were still asleep I slipped down there for my morning dip. It was
early, but in that latitude and season the sun had already risen and
filtered in through the still treetops. Lying back in that natural basin
with the cool, fresh water slipping over and about one, and all the
world afar off and unreal, was to know the joy of the dim, forgotten
days when nymphs and dryads sported in hidden pools or tripped to the
pipes of Pan. Hemlock and maple boughs lacing above, with blue sky
between--a hermit thrush singing: such a pool Diana might have found,
shut away in some remote depths of Arcady. I should not have been much
surprised to have heard the bay of her hounds in that still early
morning, and to have seen her and her train suddenly appear--pursuing a
moose, maybe, or merely coming down for a morning swim. Of course I
should have secluded myself had I heard them coming. I am naturally a
modest person. Besides, I garner from the pictures that Diana is likely
to be dangerous when she is in her moods. Eddie bathed, too, later, but
the spell was gone then. Diana was far away, the stillness and sun-glint
were no more in the treetops, the hermit thrush was no longer in the
neighborhood. Eddie grumbled that the water was chilly and that the
stones hurt his feet. An hour, sometimes--a moment, even--makes all the
difference between romance and reality. Finally, even the guides bathed!
We let off fireworks in celebration!
We carried the canoes to the lake that morning and explored it, but
there was not much to see. The lake had no inlet that we could find, and
Eddie and I lost a dollar apiece with the guides betting on the shape of
it, our idea being based upon the glimpse of the evening before. I don't
care much for lakes that change their shape like that, and even Eddie
seemed willing to abandon this unprofitable region. I suspected,
however, that his willingness to take the back track was mainly due to
the hope of getting another try at the little mooses, but I resolved to
indulge myself no further in any such pastime.
[Illustration: "We went down that long, lovely lake in a luxury of idle
bliss."]
It was hard to drag Eddie by those islands. He wanted to cruise around
every one of them and to go ashore and prospect among the debris. He
vowed at last that he would come back with Charles from our next camp
and explore on his own account. Then, there being a fine breeze directly
behind us, he opened out a big umbrella which he had brought along for
just such a time, we hitched our canoe on behind, and with that bellying
black sail on the forward bow, went down that long, lovely lake in a
luxury of idle bliss.
We camped at our old place by the falls and next morning Eddie did in
fact return to have another go at the calves. Del was willing to stay at
the camp, and I said I would have a quiet day's fishing nearby. It
proved an unusual day's fishing for those waters. White perch are not
plentiful there, but for some reason a school of them had collected just
by our camp. I discovered them by accident and then gave up everything
else to get as many of them as possible, for they were a desirable
change from trout, and eagerly welcomed. I fished for them by spells all
day. Del and I had them for luncheon and we saved a great pan full to be
ready for supper, when the others should return.
It was dusk when the other canoe came in. Our companions were very
tired, also wet, for it had been a misty day, with showers. Eddie was a
bit cross, too. They had seen some calves, he said, but could not get
them. His guide agreed with this statement, but when questioned
separately their statements varied somewhat as to the reasons of
failure. It did not matter. Eddie was discouraged in the calf moose
project, I could see that. Presently I began boasting of the big day's
sport I had enjoyed, and then to show off I said, "This is how I did
it."
Eddie was washing his hands in my perch pool and I had no idea of
getting anything--one is not likely to when he wishes to exhibit
himself--but I made a cast with the light tackle with two flies on it
and immediately had my hands full. For once, I did actually show off
when I undertook to do it. I think the only two big perch in that pool
seized those flies, and for the next five or ten minutes they were
making my reel sing and giving me such sport as only two big white perch
on a light tackle can. I brought them to the net at last and Eddie
looked on with hungry, envious eyes.
"You don't mean to say you've been taking those things all day," he
said.
"All day, more or less. I merely gave this little exhibition to wind up
on."
But of course I had to show him the size of the others, then, and he was
appeased to the extent of forgetting most of his troubles in a square
meal. That quiet day with the white perch, ending as it did with a grand
finale, remains one of my fondest memories.