"Indiana, your hat!" cried Mrs. Bunker. A gust of wind had torn it off
her head. Haller deftly rescued it from the lake and restored it to
Indiana in a dripping condition. She sat bare-headed, enjoying the
outlook, the moist wind blowing her hair in large rings around her face.
"We're in for it," said Mrs. Bunker. When they started, the lake had
been grey and calm. Now, it was gradually darkening, and dotted here
and there with white-caps.
"Are yer skeert?" said Haller, looking at Mrs. Bunker with one of his
contortions.
"No," retorted Mrs. Bunker, sharply, "but I want to get to the camp."
"Waal, we're goin' there," said Haller, calmly.
In a little while they came in sight of the boat-house, elaborately
rustic, and pretty in design. Near it was planted an enormous
flag-staff, from which waved a white flag bearing the name "Camp
Indiana" in red letters.
Camp Indiana, christened after the only daughter of the owner, was the
usual log structure, but capacious in dimensions, with a luxurious
interior. There were many adjuncts in the way of out-buildings and
summer-houses, glimpses of which could be caught between the trees. The
camp owed much to art, but rejoiced in one supreme, natural beauty.
This was a giant balsam tree which Stillwater could not bring himself to
cut, and, therefore, had been used in the construction of the camp
itself. The huge trunk supported the balcony, and the lower branches
were entwined in the rustic railing. Thence it rose, screening the
front windows up to the very roof, above which it towered paternally.
Birds innumerable made their homes in the branches, and chipmunks in the
moss-covered trunk. Every summer the little creatures ran nimbly along
the lower limbs, peeping curiously at the sharers of their home; and
young birds, essaying to fly, met with mishaps and fell into the camp
with broken wings and legs. The latter were a great solicitude to
Indiana. She nursed them carefully, with a knowledge founded on similar
cases in the Rocky Mountains. There, she had gained much experience
with birds and animals.
Though it was blowing strongly on the lake, there was no wind at the
camp. No matter how the elements rage, there is quiet among the trees,
except for a sighing whisper, to which one could fall asleep.
"Em--n!" said Mrs. Bunker, taking a survey when she reached the balcony.
"Enough to give one the blues."
There was a huge deer-head over the entrance, a trophy of Stillwater's
first year in the Adirondacks. The large hall was decorated with many
other trophies from the Rocky Mountains and elsewhere. Wild skins of
every description strewed the polished floors throughout the camp. Logs
crackled brightly in the great, deep fire-place of the hall, as they
entered, emitting an odor of pine. The large, brown eyes of an elk
gazed beneath the branching antlers mildly down on the fire. A short,
wide flight of stairs was broken by a balcony over the hall. From the
railing hung an antique, Persian silk rug, upon which the fire played
richly. Beneath the stair-case and each side of the fire-place were
deep niches, comfortably furnished with pillows, of which red was the
prevailing tone. Graceful jars of old pottery decorated the shelves
above, with here and there a brilliant cluster of peacock's feathers, or
the rich plumage of a stuffed bird, to relieve the dullness of the clay.
This decoration was repeated in all the lower rooms, of which there were
many, one opening into the other, giving a vista of fire-lit interiors,
the flames catching an occasional flash of color from a red pillow or an
Oriental scarf hanging carelessly from a shelf. The camp resounded to
the crackling of logs with the accompanying, healthy perfume of the
burning pine. Indiana ran through all the rooms, looking out of every
window upon the lake. Those of her own room opened directly into the
balsam tree which ornamented the front of the camp. This room had been
built entirely of white maple. There was simple furniture of the same
wood. The gleaming white walls and ceiling served as a background for a
continuous Bacchanalian dance of shadows, cast by the branches of the
giant balsam screening the windows. Here, also, logs crackled cheerily
in a deep, wide fireplace, tiled with white onyx, which reflected the
flames in fitful opaline gleams. White bear rugs strewed the floor.
Indiana, as she looked around her, had visions of frosty, October
mornings, when she had put her feet unwillingly out of bed into the warm
fur, and hopped over the intervening space of cold floor to the fire.
She remembered awakings, when a breath of balsam air swept like a cool
hand across her forehead. Open windows and fires were Mr. Stillwater's
strict injunctions at the camp. Indiana, for one, obeyed him. She had
often opened her eyes to see a chipmunk sitting on its haunches,
regarding her curiously. And birds were in the habit of flying around
her little nest and out again to their own nest in the tree. She stood
for a moment by the fire with a sense of glad content to be once more in
this white, balsam-scented room. Then she ran into her mother's room,
and into that reserved for Glen. On the mantel were portraits of his
mother and father. They had insisted on his leaving some of his
belongings there last year, saying that if he did so, he would be sure
to come again. Indiana inspected the portraits. "I'm glad they're
here," she thought. "It'll be a welcome for him."
Mrs. Bunker stood warming her hands by the hall fire. "The dampness
isn't off the rooms yet."
"They've bin closed s'long, yer see," said Haller, lighting his pipe in
the doorway. "Waal, I opened up everything, lettin' in the sun, soon as
I knowed yer was comin'."
"Now that he's lit his pipe," thought Mrs. Bunker, "it won't go out
while we're here."
He stalked leisurely through the rooms, throwing a fresh log on every
fire, and looking about proudly, as though he could well be
congratulated upon his preparations.
"Everything looks very nice, Henry," said Mrs. Stillwater, "just as if
we left yesterday."
Another pipe saluted Mrs. Bunker at the entrance. It belonged to the
second guide, who was somewhat brisker in appearance than Haller.
"Waal, haow d'ye find things lookin', ma'am?" he said, with a cheery
laugh.
"They're looking all right, William," answered Mrs. Bunker, graciously.
She liked him better than Haller, who had an irritating effect on her.
"Will it be a good season for deer?" said Indiana, running down the
stairs.
William puffed slowly and seriously.
"It's going ter be a good season for deer," he said.
"Oh, I hope so," exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. "I promised those Englishmen
good hunting."
"If they come, there'll be good hunting, Grandma Chazy," said Indiana,
moving close to her, and looking significantly into her eyes. Mrs.
Bunker laughed vivaciously.
"Ther' comin' down ter drink," volunteered William.
"Already!" exclaimed Indiana, with a laughing glance at Mrs. Bunker.
"Waal, thar' ain't bin no rain ter speak of--the springs is dryin' up on
the mauntings."
"Y--es!" corroborated Haller, joining them with Mrs. Stillwater. "Ther
comin' down ter the lakes."
"Poor things!" said Mrs. Stillwater.
"Do you pity them, Grandma Chazy?" whispered Indiana, "I don't mean the
deer."
"Not I," said Mrs. Bunker. "Wholesale slaughter isn't the word."
Glen joined them soon after their arrival, but not before Indiana had
written him a special letter inviting him to come. He had a certain
pride where she was concerned. They roamed the woods together, renewing
acquaintance with all their old haunts, or rowed and fished on the lake
for hours with Haller and William. Mrs. Bunker and her daughter did not
share their enthusiasm for these sports. They enjoyed the lake only in
pleasant weather, when they made trips in "The Indiana" with a guide.
Sometimes they were met at the landing by the comfortable and airy
mountain wagon and the fresh mountain ponies, to take them for one of
the beautiful drives in which that county abounded. Occasionally,
Indiana and Glen would join them, changing off with the reins.
"I'd like to write to the Smiths," said Mrs. Bunker, one morning. "I
promised to invite them up here. But you're so half-hearted about it,
Indiana. All you care for is to roam about with Glen." She was standing
on the balcony of the boat-house, and did not see Glen below on the
dock. He smiled grimly.
"I can't blame her for one, Mrs. Bunker," he called up, good humoredly.
Indiana laughed. She was sitting in a boat. After having assumed
several positions in order to ship water, she was now very busy bailing
it out with a large sponge.
"No offense, Glen," said Mrs. Bunker.
"None whatever," returned Glen, emerging, and bowing elaborately.
"The two of you are like a couple of Indians," she continued.
"Here's Haller with the mail," cried Indiana. He rowed swiftly towards
them in a light, narrow guide-boat. Indiana took the letters.
"I brought a letter for yer," shouted Haller to Mrs. Bunker.
"Then why didn't you deliver it?" answered Mrs. Bunker sharply.
"_She_ tuk it," he answered, chuckling.
Indiana stood up in the boat, balancing herself admirably, and flung the
letter to Mrs. Bunker, then sat down examining the other letters and
papers in her lap.
"Nothing for you, Glen."
He overturned a boat and seated himself upon it, smoking a pipe.
Naturally dark, he was burnt several shades darker, from his hair to the
loose, open collar of his flannel shirt.
"You're sitting right in the water, Indiana. Your feet must be soaking
wet. Your mother ought to see you."
Indiana looked at him with a laugh. He remembered her blue eyes had
given him that same arch glance as a child, when he had discovered her
in some act of mischief.
"You always liked to put your feet in the puddles," he said.
"Yes, I always had a passion for puddles. As Grandma Chazy would say,
'it'll bode me no good, some day.'"
"It's from Lord Stafford," cried Mrs. Bunker.
"Indeed!" said Indiana, affecting an English accent.
"They'll be with us in a few days, Indiana."
"Charmed!" said Indiana, standing up in the boat, and screwing up her
face in imitation of Lord Stafford with his monocle.
Glen laughed heartily at the expense of Mrs. Bunker's English friends.
"That's great, Indiana."
"You little rogue," cried Mrs. Bunker, "I won't have you ridicule my
friends. Oh, I'm so delighted. You'll find them lovely company."
"Ya--a--as," drawled Indiana, with a bored expression, "delighted,
I'm--" the rest was finished in the water, the boat capsizing suddenly.
Indiana was near enough to the dock to throw out an arm to Glen, and he
drew her up laughing, but drenched.
"I knew you'd do it, Indiana," cried Mrs. Bunker.
Indiana, still clinging to Glen, as the dock was slippery, smiled
faintly, putting her hand to her side.
"You didn't hurt yourself, did you, Indiana?" said Glen, anxiously.
"I twisted my side a little--I wanted to save myself, as I fell--that's
all."
"What did she do, Glen?" called Mrs. Bunker.
Glen lifted her up in his arms, and carried her up to the camp.
"It was a punishment for making fun of people, wasn't it, Glen?" she
said, lifting her little wet face from his breast. "Serves me right,
don't it, Glen?"
"No, dear," he said, tenderly.
She tightened her arms about his neck. "You always took care of me,
Glen," she said, childishly. His heart beat violently against the
little soaking bundle. It was on his lips to say, "I always will, if
you'll only let me, Indiana." But he refrained. Still, as he climbed,
he felt he was mounting the goal where his heart could rest.
Mrs. Stillwater ran anxiously to meet them.
"It's nothing, Mary," cried Mrs. Bunker, "she was cutting up some of her
pranks, and fell into the water."
"Just rub her side," said Glen, delivering his burden, "she sprained it
a little, falling, and put some dry clothes on her. You feel all right,
don't you, Indiana?"
"Yes, Glen; thank you," said Indiana, meekly.