CAMP ROY
No thoughts of idiocy crossed the minds of any of the camping party during
their first breakfast under the great oak-tree. The air, the sunlight, the
rippling waters of the lake, the white clouds in the blue sky, the great
trunks of the trees, the rustling of the leaves, the songs of the birds,
the hum of insects, the brightness of everything, their wonderful
appetites--the sense of all these things more than filled their minds.
For the greater part of that day Mr. Archibald fished, sometimes in a
stream which ran into the head of the lake about a quarter of a mile above
the camp, and sometimes on the shores of the lake itself. Margery
sketched; her night in the studio had filled her with dreams of art, and
she had discovered in a corner a portable easel made of hickory sticks
with the bark on, and she had tucked some drawing materials into one of
her bags.
Mrs. Archibald was a little tired with her journey of the day before, and
contented herself with sitting in the shade in pleasant places, occupied
with some needle-work she had brought with her, and trying to discipline
her mind to habits of happiness in camp. This was not very difficult
during the first part of this beautiful day, but towards the end of the
afternoon she began to think less of the joys of a free life in the heart
of nature and more of the pleasure of putting on her bonnet and going out
to make some calls upon her friends. In this state of mind it pleased her
to see Phil Matlack coming towards her.
"Would you like a cup of tea, ma'am?" said he.
"No, thank you," she answered. "It would seem rather odd to have afternoon
tea in the woods, and I really don't care for it."
"We can have 'most anything in the woods, ma'am," said Matlack, "that we
can have anywhere else, providin' you don't mind what sort of fashion you
have it in. I thought it might be sort of comfortin' to you to have a cup
of tea. I've noticed that in most campin' parties of the family order
there's generally one or two of them that's lonesome the first day; and
the fact is I don't count on anything particular bein' done on the first
day in camp, except when the party is regular hunters or fishermen. It's
just as well for some of them to sit round on the first day and let things
soak into them, provided it isn't rain, and the next day they will have a
more natural feelin' about what they really want to do. Now I expect you
will be off on some sort of a tramp to-morrow, ma'am, or else be out in
the boat; and as for that young lady, she's not goin' to sketch no more
after to-day. She's got young Martin out in the boat, restin' on his oars,
while she's puttin' him into her picture. She's rubbed him out so often
that I expect he'll fall asleep and tumble overboard, or else drop one of
his oars."
"Mr. Matlack," said Mrs. Archibald, "will you please sit down a moment? I
want to ask you something."
"Certainly, ma'am," said he, and forthwith seated himself on a log near
by, picking up a stick as he did so, and beginning to shave the bark from
it with his pocket-knife.
"Do you know," said she, "if there are panthers in these woods?"
Matlack looked up at her quickly. "I expect you heard them walkin' about
your cabin last night," said he; "and not only panthers, but most likely a
bear or two, and snakes rustlin' in the leaves; and, for all I know, coons
or 'possums climbin' in and out of the window."
"Oh, nothing so bad as that," she replied. "I only thought--"
"Excuse me, ma'am," he interrupted. "I didn't mean that you heard all
those things, but most likely a part of them. Hardly any family parties
goes into camp that some of them don't hear wild beasts the first night.
But they never come no more. Them kind of wild beasts I call
first-nighters, and they're about the worst kind we've got, because they
really do hurt people by scratchin' and clawin' at their nerves, whereas
the real wild beasts in these parts--and they're mighty scarce, and never
come near camp--don't hurt nobody."
"I am glad to hear it," said she. "But what on earth can be keeping Mr.
Archibald? When he started out after dinner he said he would be back very
soon."
"Oh, he's got the fever, ma'am," said Matlack.
"Fever!" exclaimed Mrs. Archibald, dropping her work in her lap.
"Oh, don't be frightened," said he; "it is only the fishin' fever. It
don't hurt anybody; it only keeps the meals waitin'. You see, we are
pretty nigh the first people out this year, and the fish bite lively. Are
you fond of fishin', ma'am?"
"No, indeed," said she; "I dislike it. I think it is cruel and slimy and
generally unpleasant."
"I expect you'll spend most of your time in the boat," suggested Matlack.
"Your husband rows, don't he?"
"He doesn't row me," said Mrs. Archibald, with earnestness. "I never go
out in a boat except with a regular boatman. I suppose you have a larger
boat than the one that young man is in? I can see it from here, and it
looks very small."
"No, ma'am," said Matlack; "that's the only one we've got. And now I guess
I'll go see about supper. This has been a lazy day for us, but we always
do calc'late on a lazy day to begin with."
"It strikes me," said Matlack to himself, as he walked away, "that this
here camp will come to an end pretty soon. The man and the young woman
could stand it for a couple of weeks, but there's nothing here for the old
lady, and it can't be long before she'll have us all out of the woods
again."
"You can come in," called Margery, about ten minutes after this
conversation; and young Martin, who had not the least idea of going to
sleep in the boat, dipped his oars in the water and rowed ashore, pulled
the boat up on the beach, and then advanced to the spot where Margery was
preparing to put away her drawing materials.
"Would you mind letting me see your sketch?" said he.
"Oh no," said she; "but you'll see it isn't very much like the scene
itself. When I make a drawing from nature I never copy everything I see
just as if I were making a photograph. I suppose you think I ought to draw
the boat just as it is, but I always put something of my own in my
pictures. And that, you see, is a different kind of a boat from the one
you were in. It is something like Venetian boats."
"It isn't like anything in this part of the world, that is true," said the
young man, as he held the drawing in his hand; "and if it had been more
like a gondola it would not have suited the scene. I think you have caught
the spirit of the landscape very well; but if you don't object to a little
criticism, I should say that the shore over there is too near the
foreground. It seems to me that the picture wants atmosphere; that would
help the distance very much."
"Do you draw?" asked Margery, in surprise.
"I used to be very fond of sketching," said he. "I stayed at Sadler's a
good part of the last winter, and when I wasn't out hunting I made a good
many drawings of winter scenes. I would be glad to show them to you when
we go back."
"Well," said she, "if I had known you were an artist I would not have
asked you to go out there and sit as a model."
"Oh, I am not an artist," replied Martin; "I only draw, that's all. But if
you make any more water sketches and would like me to put some ducks or
any other kind of wild-fowl in the foreground I will be glad to do it for
you. I have made a specialty of natural-history drawings. Don't bother
yourself about that easel; I'll carry up your things for you."
About half-way to the cabin Margery suddenly stopped and turned round
towards the young man, who was following her. "How did you come to be a
guide?" she asked.
He smiled. "That's because I was born a naturalist and a sportsman. I went
into business when I finished my education, but I couldn't stand that, and
as I couldn't afford to become a gentleman sportsman, I came here as a
guide. I'm getting a lot of experience in this sort of life, and when I've
saved money enough I'm going on an exploring expedition, most likely to
Central America. That's the kind of life that will suit me."
"And write a book about it?" asked Margery.
"Most likely," said he.
That night, after supper, Margery remarked: "Our two guides are American
citizens, and I don't see why they can't eat at the table with us instead
of waiting until we have finished. We are all free and equal in the
woods."
"Margery Dearborn!" exclaimed Mrs. Archibald. "What are you talking
about?"
She was going to say that if there were one straw more needed to break her
back, that straw would be the sight of the two guides sitting at the table
with them, but she restrained herself. She did not want Mr. Archibald to
know anything about the condition of her back.
"So long as they don't want to do it, and don't do it," said she, "pray
don't let us say anything about it. Let's try to make things as pleasant
as we can."
Mr. Archibald was lighting his pipe, and when he was sure the tobacco was
sufficiently ignited he took the pipe from his mouth and turned towards
his wife.
"Harriet," said he, "you have been too much alone to-day. I don't know
what I shall do to-morrow; but whatever it is, I am going to take you with
me."
"Of course that depends on what it is you do," she answered. "But I will
try to do everything I can."
Mr. Archibald heaved a little sigh, which was not noticed by any one,
because it sounded like a puff.
"I am afraid," he thought, "that this camping business is not going to
last very much longer, and we shall be obliged to make the rest of our
wedding-journey in a different style."
The next morning, when Mr. Archibald went out of his cabin door, he looked
over the lake and saw a bird suddenly swoop down upon the water, breaking
the smooth surface into sparkles of silver, and then rise again, a little
silvery fish glittering in its claws.
"Beautifully done!" said he. "A splendid stroke!" And then turning, he
looked up the lake, and not far from the water's edge he saw Margery
walking with Mr. Clyde, while Mr. Raybold followed a little in the rear.
"Harriet," he cried, quickly stepping into the cabin again, "look out
here! What is the meaning of this?"
Mrs. Archibald was dressed, and came out. When she saw the trio
approaching them, she was not so much surprised as was her husband.
"I don't know the meaning of anything that happens in these woods," she
said; "but if a lot of people have come from the hotel with those young
men I cannot say I am sorry."
"Come," said her husband, "we must look into this."
In two minutes the Archibalds had met the new-comers, who advanced with
outstretched hands, as if they had been old friends. Mr. Archibald, not
without some mental disquietude at this intrusion upon the woodland
privacy of his party, was about to begin a series of questions, when he
was forestalled by Margery.
"Oh, Uncle Archibald and Aunt Harriet!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Clyde and Mr.
Raybold have come out here to camp. Their camp is right next to ours, and
it is called Camp Roy. You see, some years ago there was a large camping
party came here, and they called the place Camp Rob Roy, but it was
afterwards divided, and one part called Camp Rob and the other Camp Roy."
"Indeed!" interrupted Mr. Archibald. "Mr. Sadler did not tell us that ours
was only half a camp with only half a name."
"I don't suppose he thought of it," said Margery. "And the line between
the two camps is just three hundred feet above our cabin. I don't suppose
anybody ever measures it off, but there it is; and Mr. Clyde and Mr.
Raybold have taken Camp Roy, which hasn't any house on it. They started
before daybreak this morning, and brought a tent along with them, which
they have pitched just back of that little peninsula; and they haven't any
guide, because they want to attend to their own cooking and everything,
and the man who brought the tent and other things has gone back. They are
going to live there just like real backwoodsmen, and they have a boat of
their own, which is to be brought up from the bottom of the lake
somewhere--I mean from the lower end of the lake. And, Aunt Harriet, may I
speak to you a moment?"
With this the young woman drew Mrs. Archibald aside, and in a low voice
asked if she thought it would be out of the way to invite the two young
men to take breakfast with them, as it was not likely they had all their
cooking things in order so early.
Five people sat down to breakfast under the great oak-tree, and it was a
lively meal. Mr. Archibald's mental disquiet, in which were now apparent
some elements of resentment, had not subsided, but the state of his mind
did not show itself in his demeanor, and he could not help feeling pleased
to see that his wife was in better spirits. He had always known that she
liked company.
After breakfast he took Matlack aside. "I don't understand this business,"
said he. "When I hired this camp I supposed we were to have it to
ourselves; but if there are other camps jammed close against it we may be
in the midst of a great public picnic before a week is out."
"Oh, that camp over there isn't much of a camp," replied the guide. "The
fact is, it is only the tail end of a camp, and I don't suppose Peter
Sadler thought anybody would be likely to take it just now, and so didn't
think it worth while to speak of it. Of course it's jammed up against this
one, as you say; but then the people in one camp haven't the right to
cross the line into another camp if the people in the other camp don't
want them to."
"Line!" said Mr. Archibald. "It is absurd to think of lines in a place
like this. And I have no intention of making myself disagreeable by
ordering people off my premises. But I would like to know if there is
another camp three hundred feet on this side of our cabin, or three
hundred feet back of it."
"No, sir," said Matlack, speaking promptly; "there isn't another camp
between this and the lower end of the lake. There's a big one there, and
it's taken; but the people aren't coming until next month."
"If a larger party had taken Camp Roy," said Mr. Archibald to his wife a
little later, "I should not mind it so much. But two young men! I do not
like it."