[Illustration: THE SUPPER [Page 37]]

THEASSOCIATE HERMITS

ByFrank R. Stockton

Author of"The Great Stone of Sardis"

With Illustrations by A. B. Frost

[Illustration]

NEW YORK AND LONDONHARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS

1900

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

THE GREAT STONE OF SARDIS. A Novel. Illustrated by Peter Newell. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 50. 

"The Great Stone of Sardis" is as queer and preposterous ascan be imagined, yet as plausible and real-seeming as a legaldocument. .. . There is a treat in the book. --_Independent_, N. Y. 

A new and worthy example of Stockton's kindly, wholesome, original, and inexhaustible humor. --_Syracuse Post. _

Narrated with a seriousness that gives the adventures a semblanceof matters of fact. Through the narrative runs a love interest whichMr. Stockton manages with great skill. --_Washington Post. _

NEW YORK AND LONDON:HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS. 

Copyright, 1898, by Harper & Brothers. 

All rights reserved. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. The Dawn of a Wedding-journey 1 II. Enter Margery 7 III. Sadler's 15 IV. A Cataract of Information 23 V. Camp Rob 35 VI. Camp Roy 42 VII. A Stranger 52 VIII. The Bishop's Tale 63 IX. Matlack's Three Troubles 74 X. A Ladies' Day in Camp 82 XI. Margery Takes the Oars 90 XII. The Bishop Engages the Attention of the Guides 100 XIII. The World Goes Wrong with Mr. Raybold 105 XIV. The Assertion of Individuality 113 XV. A Net of Cobwebs to Cage a Lion 123 XVI. A Man who Feels Himself a Man 135 XVII. Mrs. Perkenpine Asserts Her Individuality 143 XVIII. The Hermits Associate 153 XIX. Margery's Breakfast 161 XX. Martin Asserts His Individuality 173 XXI. The Individuality of Peter Sadler 185 XXII. A Tranquillizing Breeze and a Hot Wind 194 XXIII. Mrs. Perkenpine Finds out Things about Herself 205 XXIV. A Dissolving Audience 212 XXV. A Moonlight Interview 220 XXVI. An Elopement 229 XXVII. Mrs. Perkenpine Delights the Bishop 239XXVIII. The Hermits Continue to Favor Association 248

ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGETHE SUPPER Frontispiece"'CAN THIS BE SADLER'S?'" 16"'THEY THROW THE OTHER THINGS BACK'" 54"A LESSON IN FLY-FISHING" 80"BUT THE BISHOP KNEW BETTER" 98"WITH A GREAT HEAVE SENT HIM OUT INTO THE WATER" 102"'WHERE ARE ALL OUR FRIENDS?'" 150"'HAVEN'T TRIED IT'" 202"'IF THEY AIN'T THE CAMP ROBBERS!'" 232

THE ASSOCIATE HERMITS

CHAPTER I

THE DAWN OF A WEDDING-JOURNEY

Mr. And Mrs. Hector Archibald were prosperous and happy dwellers in asuburb of one of our large towns. Fortune had favored them in manyways--in health and in a good average happiness. They had reached earlymiddle age, and their daughter Kate, their only child, had grown up to bea beautiful and good young woman, and was on the point of marrying a younglawyer--Rodney Bringhurst by name--in every way worthy of her. 

Hector Archibald was a little man, with small bright eyes, and hairslightly touched with gray and very much inclined to curl. His dispositionwas lively. He had a strong liking for cheerful occurrences, and wasalways willing to do his part in the bringing about of such events. Novelty had a charm for him. He was not bound by precedence and tradition, and if he had found himself at a dinner which began with coffee and endedwith oysters on the half-shell, he would have given the unusual meal amost animated consideration, although he might have utterly withheld anysubsequent approbation. As a general thing, he revolved in an orbit whereone might always be able to find him, were the proper calculations made. But if any one drew a tangent for him, and its direction seemed suitableand interesting, he was perfectly willing to fly off on it. 

The disposition of Mrs. Hector Archibald was different. She was born to beguided by customs, fashions, and forms. She believed it was the duty of amarried woman to make her home happy, and she did it. But she alsobelieved that in the best domestic circles there were rules and usages fordomestic happiness which would apply to every domestic condition andcontingency. It frequently troubled her, however, to find that certaincustoms, forms, or usages of domestic society had changed, and being of aconservative turn of mind, it was difficult for her to adapt herself tothese changes. But, thoroughly loyal to the idea that what was done bypeople she loved and people she respected ought also to be done by her, she earnestly strove to fit herself to new conditions, especially when shesaw that by not doing so she would be out of touch with her family and herfriends. 

Now of course the wedding of their daughter was the only thing in theworld that seemed of real importance to Mr. And Mrs. Archibald, and forthis all preparations and plans had been agreed upon and made with greatgood-will and harmony, excepting one thing, and that was the wedding-trip. Strange to say, the young people did not wish to take a wedding-trip. Theybelieved that this old-fashioned custom was unnecessary, troublesome, commonplace, and stupid. In the gardens and grounds of the Archibaldmansion, and in the beautiful surrounding country, they had loved eachother as lovers, and among these scenes they wished to begin to love eachother as a married couple. Why should such distasteful and unpleasantingredients as railroad-cars, steamboats, and hotels be dashed into thepleasing mixture of their new lives? It had been arranged that for a yearor two, at least, they should live in Kate's dear old home, and why shouldthey not immediately begin that life there?

Mr. Archibald did not favor this plan, and his wife was strongly opposedto it. A wedding without a wedding-trip ought not to be thought of. 

"During the honey-moon a young couple should live for each other, witheach other, apart from the rest of the world. It is a beautiful custom, which should not be rudely trampled upon, " said Mrs. Archibald. 

But although Mrs. Archibald cherished a belief that she ought to conformher ideas to the domestic customs of the day, her daughter Kate cherishedthe belief that the domestic customs of the day ought to conformthemselves to her ideas. 

"Of course we should like to be alone in the honey-moon, " she exclaimed. "We don't object to that; and if there must be a wedding-journey, you andfather can take it and we will stay here. Here are servants, books, thingsto eat, and everything our hearts can desire, and here we would reallyfeel as if we were beginning life as man and wife. As for you two, youboth need a vacation, and nothing could be more perfectly appropriate andmore delightful to everybody than that you should take our wedding-trip. We don't want it; we will make it a present to you. Take it and be happy, and leave us here to be happy. People have done this sort of thing before, so that it is not absolutely wild and unheard of. "

Mr. Archibald welcomed this plan with open arms, and hugged it and hisdaughter to his breast. It suited him admirably, and he declared that allbusiness and engagements of every kind should be set aside, and that hewould be ready to start on the wedding-journey with Mrs. Archibald themoment the ceremony should be completed. 

"You will wait until the reception is over, father?" said Kate, laughing. 

"Yes, " said he, "I will wait for that. "

This novel proposition sent a chill through every fibre of Mrs. Archibald's physical organism. At first she did not exactly comprehend it, but when she did, the chills increased. When she had recovered herself alittle she began to make objections. This was easy enough, for theycrowded into her mind like sheep into a pen; but every objection, as shebrought it forth, was ruthlessly set aside or crushed to earth by herdaughter or her husband, assisted by her expectant son-in-law, of whom shedeclared she never would have believed such a thing had she been told it. 

The discussion ended, of course, by Mrs. Archibald agreeing to go on thisabsurd wedding-journey. But the good lady's mental troubles were not overwhen she had given her consent. As this scheme had been devised by thosedearest to her on earth, and as it was certain, these dearest personsassured her, to meet with the approbation of all people of advancedthought--at least of those whose thought had advanced far enough to makeit worthy of their consideration--she felt that in doing her part sheought to do it honestly and with her whole heart; and at her time of life, to act as a proxy for a young bride by taking a wedding-journey in thatyoung bride's place was a very difficult thing for Mrs. Archibald to dohonestly and with her whole heart. But she would try to do it. Whateverelse happened, her family must be kept happy, and it should never be saidof her that she hung like a millstone around the combined neck of thatfamily when it was unitedly climbing towards altitudes of felicity, which, although she was not able to discern them, must exist, since that fact hadbeen so earnestly insisted upon by Mr. Archibald, Kate, and RodneyBringhurst. 

Thus was this exceptional hymeneal performance decided upon, and at eleveno'clock on Wednesday, the 6th of June, the marriage service was performed. At noon the guests sat down to breakfast, and at two o'clock thatafternoon Mr. And Mrs. Hector Archibald departed on the wedding-trip, leaving behind Mr. And Mrs. Bringhurst at home with each other, and "notat home" to the world. 

CHAPTER II

ENTER MARGERY

At four o'clock on the afternoon of June 6th Mr. And Mrs. Hector Archibaldarrived at a family hotel in the capital of their state. Where they shouldgo from there had not been decided upon. Nothing in regard to theirwedding-journey had been decided upon except that they were to return totheir home on the 6th of July of that year, and not before. It would havebeen impossible, with their minds filled with bridal arrangements, forthem to make plans for their journey. But at this first stopping-place, where they were free from all responsibility and interruptions, theycould, at their leisure, decide where they should go, how they should go, and what they should do when they got there. 

After the unrest and turmoil of their own home during the past few weeks, the quiet and repose of this city hotel were delightful. That evening theywent to the theatre, and after the performance they had a little supper ata restaurant. 

"People may not think we are a newly married pair, " said Mr. Archibald, ashe poured out a glass of wine for his wife, "but it is not impossible thatthey may see we know how to enjoy ourselves quite as much as if we were. "

The next morning Mr. Archibald procured a number of railroad maps, time-tables, circulars of steamboat excursions, advertisements of mountainretreats and sea-side resorts, and he and his wife sat down to studythese, and to decide upon a destination and a route. After an hour or twoof indeterminate examination Mr. Archibald declared himself a littletired, and proposed that they should take a recess from their labors andgo and call upon their old friends, the Stanley Dearborns. 

"People on wedding-tours do not make calls, " said Mrs. Archibald. 

"That may be true, " said her husband, "in ordinary cases, and although Ido not care to announce to everybody the peculiarities of the expeditionwhich we have undertaken, I do not mind in the least telling the StanleyDearborns all about it. Stanley himself would not appreciate it; he wouldconsider it absurd; but then he is not at home at this time of day, andMrs. Dearborn is just the woman to enjoy a reform movement of this sort. Besides, she is full of ideas about everything, and she may propose somegood place for us to go to. "

Mrs. Dearborn was at home, and very glad to see the Archibalds. She was awoman whose soul was in touch with the higher education of women--withfemale suffrage, the emancipation of the enslaved mind wherever it mightbe found, and with progress generally. She was a member of many societies, belonged to committees without end, wrote reports and minutes by day andby night, and was one of that ever-increasing class of good people whocontinually walk forward in order that their weight may help the world toturn over. 

In spite of her principles and the advanced position of her thought, Mrs. Dearborn actually leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily when shelearned what sort of a journey the Archibalds were taking. In thismerriment Mr. Archibald joined with great glee. 

"Ever since I left home, " he said, "I have wanted to have a chance for agood laugh at this trip we are taking. It is the most delightful joke Ihave ever known. "

Mrs. Archibald could not help smiling, but her brow was clouded. "If thisexpedition is merely a joke, " she said, "I do not think we should haveundertaken it; but if it is an earnest assertion of our belief that thereshould be a change in the customs of society, then I think we should takeit seriously, and I see nothing to laugh at. "

"My dear Harriet, " said Mrs. Dearborn, "we can be good and glad at thesame time; and that is what I am, I am sure. What you are doing is theinitiation of one of the most worthy reforms of the day, and if it shouldhave an effect in breaking up that wretched custom of the bridal tramp, which is considered so necessary in this country, society should rise upand call you blessed. But it is funny, for all that. I am sure that thefirst woman who dared to go without crinoline was very funny, and when Iheard of a hospital for cats I could not help laughing; but I believed init, and worked for it. And now where are you going?"

"That is what we want to talk to you about, " said Mr. Archibald; and forhalf an hour they talked about it. 

At the end of that time it was decided that the mountains were better thanthe sea or than a quiet lowland nook; and Mrs. Dearborn stronglyrecommended Sadler's, where she and her husband had spent a part of asummer a few years before. 

"We camped out, " said she, "and had a fine time. You can camp out atSadler's more easily and satisfactorily than anywhere else in the world. "

Camping suited Mr. Archibald admirably, and, to his surprise, his wifesaid she might like it very well. 

"If people are going to laugh at us, " she said, "when they find out we areon a wedding-journey--and they will be sure to find it out in some way orother--I think the fewer people we mingle with the better. I do not thinkI shall like camping altogether, but I know it is healthful, and I supposeI ought to get used to it. It would be dreadfully lonely for just Mr. Archibald and me, but I suppose we can take some one with us to guide andcook. "

"My dear Harriet, " said Mrs. Dearborn, "if you are at Sadler's, you can gointo any sort of camp you please. I will tell you all about Sadler's. Sadler is a man of progress. His hotel or inn is on the very edge of theforest country, and away from all the centres of resort. He calls hisplace the terminal link of public travel in that direction. When you leavehim you travel privately in any way you like. He has established what hehas named a bureau of camping, and he furnishes his patrons with any sortof a camp they may desire. If the party is few in number and of a timiddisposition, they can have a camp within shouting distance of his house. If they are brave and adventurous, he will send them out into the depthsof the forest. If they like water, he locates them by the shores of alake. If climbing is their passion, he puts them at the foot of amountain. Those who want to hunt can do so, and those who dislikefire-arms are placed in a camp where the popping of guns is never heard. He provides tents, guides, provisions, and even dangers and sensations. "

"Safety is what I want, " interrupted Mrs. Archibald. 

"And that he furnishes, " said the other, "for those who desire it. "

"Sadler is the man for me!" cried Mr. Archibald. "We will go to him, lookover his list of camps, and select one to suit us. "

"By-the-way, " said Mrs. Dearborn, "a thought has struck me. How would youlike to take Margery with you?"

"Margery!" exclaimed Mr. Archibald. "That delightful little girl whom Itaught to ride a tricycle when you were visiting us? I would like it everso much. "

It struck Mrs. Archibald that people on bridal trips did not generallytake children or young girls with them, but it also struck her that ifthey were going into camp it might be pleasant and in many waysadvantageous to have some one of her own sex with her; but she had no timeto formulate these advantages in her mind before Mrs. Dearborn explainedin full. 

"Since Mr. Dearborn and I came home from Sadler's, " she said, "Margery hasbeen perfectly wild to go there, and as soon as the leaves began to bud inthe parks she began to talk about it. We saw no possible chance of hergoing there, for her father is too busy to leave home for any length oftime this season, and I cannot go to the mountains this year, for I mustvisit my sister, who is not well, and there are three summer conventionsthat I am obliged to attend. But if you could take her with you, I do notbelieve she would trouble you in the least, and you would give her greatpleasure. Moreover, to speak practically, which I think we always ought todo, it would not be a bad thing on the score of economy, for things arealways proportionately cheaper for three people in a camp than for two. "

A great many advantages of female companionship now began to creep intoMrs. Archibald's mind: if her husband should take it into his head to goout and hunt at night by the light of a torch; if there should bethunder-storms, and he away with the guide; if he should want to go offand talk to Indians or trappers, and he always did want to go off and talkto people of every class--it would be very pleasant to have even MargeryDearborn with her. So she consented with great good-will to her friend'sproposition, and Mrs. Dearborn was much pleased and thankful. 

"Margery is a true creature of impulse, " she said; "that is really herpredominating characteristic, and she will want to bound to the ceilingwhen she hears she is to go to Sadler's. She is not at home now, but shewill be in very soon. You must take luncheon with us. "

About a quarter of an hour after that Margery Dearborn came home. She wasvery glad indeed to see the Archibalds, whom she remembered as the kindestof people; and when she heard they were going to take her to Sadler's, shegave a scream of delight and threw herself upon Mrs. Archibald's neck. 

"You are an angel, " she cried, "an angel of blessedness, my dear AuntHarriet! Don't you remember, I used to call you that? Won't you let mecall you so still?" And without waiting for an answer, she rushed to Mr. Archibald, with outstretched hands. "Dear Uncle Archibald, you are just asgood as ever, I see. You know, I wouldn't call you Uncle Hector, becausehectoring meant scolding, which never had anything to do with you. Sadler's! Oh, when do we start?"

"To-morrow is Saturday, " replied Mr. Archibald; "we must get together somethings we will need for camp-life, and we can start on Monday. "

When the visitors were left to themselves for a few moments, Mr. Archibaldsaid to his wife, "Harriet, I am astounded. This girl, who used to ridebareback and jump over fences, is a young lady now, and a handsome one, too. She is quite a different person from the girl I agreed to take withus. "

"Mr. Archibald, " said his wife, "you never can remember that in this worldpeople of all ages grow older. She was fourteen when she was visiting us, and that was four years ago, so of course she is a young lady. "

"No, " he answered, "I don't feel that I am growing any older, and I don'tsee that you are, and so I totally forget that proclivity in other people. But what do you think now? Can we take this young woman with us to camp?Will she not be a dreadful drag?"

"My dear, " said Mrs. Archibald, "I much prefer the young lady to the girl. I don't want to be the only woman in camp, and the nearer the other womanis to my age the better. "

"All right, " said Mr. Archibald; "if you are satisfied, I am; and, if shewill agree to it, we will add our ages for the time being, and divide bythree, and then we will all stand on a level. "

CHAPTER III

SADLER'S

It was in the afternoon of Monday, the 11th of June, when Mr. And Mrs. Archibald, accompanied by Miss Margery Dearborn, arrived at Sadler's, andwith feelings of relief alighted from the cramped stage-coach which hadbrought them eight miles from the railroad station. 

"Can this be Sadler's?" said Mr. Archibald, in a tone of surprise. 

"Of course it must be, " said his wife, "since they brought us here. "

"It certainly is the place, " said Margery, "for there is the name overthat door. "

"How do you feel about it?" said Mr. Archibald to his wife. 

"I feel very well about it, " said she. "Why shouldn't I?"

"How do you feel about it?" he asked of the younger lady. 

"Well, " she answered, "I don't exactly understand it. I had visions offorests and wilds and tumbling mountain streams and a general air ofprimevalism, and I am surprised to see this fine hotel with piazzas, andcroquet-grounds, and tennis-courts, and gravelled walks, and babies intheir carriages, and elderly ladies carrying sun-shades. "

"But it seems to me that there is a forest behind it, " said Mr. Archibald. 

"Yes, " replied Margery, a little dolefully, "it has that to back it up. "

"Don't let us stand here at the bottom of the steps talking, " said Mrs. Archibald. "I must say I am very agreeably surprised. "

In the wide hall which ran through the middle of the hotel, and not farfrom the clerk's desk, there sat a large, handsome man, a little pastmiddle age, who, in a hearty voice, greeted the visitors as they entered, but without rising from his chair. This was Peter Sadler, the owner of thehotel, the legal owner of a great deal of the neighboring country, and theactual ruler of more of said country than could be easily marked out upona map or stated in surveyors' terms. 

In fact, Peter Sadler, was king of that portion of the vast district ofmountain and forest which could be reached in a day's journey in anydirection. If he had wished to extend his domain to points at a greaterdistance than this he would have done so, but so far he was satisfied withthe rights he had asserted. He ruled supreme in that region because he hadlived longer in the vicinity than any other white man, because he had apowerful will which did not brook opposition, and because there was no oneto oppose him. 

[Illustration: "'CAN THIS BE SADLER'S?'"]

On the arable land which lay outside of the forest, and which reallybelonged to him, there were the houses of the men who farmed his fields, and on the outskirts of the woods were scattered here and there the cabinsof the hunters and guides he employed, and these men knew no law but hiswill. Of course the laws of the State covered the district, but suchpromulgation and enforcement of these as he might consider necessary weregenerally left to Peter Sadler, and as to his own laws, he was alwaysthere to see that these were observed. 

His guests submitted themselves to his will, or they left his hotel verysoon. To people of discernment and judgment it was not difficult to submitto the will of this full-bearded, broad-chested man, who knew so muchbetter than they did what they ought to do if they wanted to get all thegood out of Sadler's which they were capable of assimilating. 

This man, who sat all day in a big rolling-chair, and who knew everythingthat was going on in the hotel, the farm, and the forest about him, hadbeen a hunter and a guide in his youth, an Indian-fighter in later years, and when he had been wounded in both legs, so that it was impossible forhim ever to walk again, he came back to the scenes of his youth andestablished an inn for sportsmen--a poor little house at first, which grewand grew and grew, until it was the large, well-kept hotel so widely knownby his name. 

After dinner, at which meal they were waited upon by women, and not by menin evening-dress as Margery had begun to fear, Mr. Archibald sought PeterSadler and made known to him the surprise of his party at findingthemselves in this fine hotel. 

"What did you expect?" asked Peter, eying him from head to foot. 

"From what we had heard, " replied the other, "we supposed we should findsome sort of a preparatory camping-ground in the woods, from which wecould go out and have a camp of our own. "

"That's just what you have found, " said Sadler. "In this house you prepareto camp, if you need preparation. If any man, woman, or child comes hereand wants to go out to camp, and I see that they are sickly or weak or inany way not fit to live in the woods, I don't let them go one step untilthey are fit for it. The air and the food and the water they get here willmake them fit, if anything will do it, and if these three things don't setthem up they simply have to go back where they came from. They can't gointo camp from this house. But if they fancy this hotel--and there isn'tany reason why anybody shouldn't fancy it--they can stay here as long asthey like, and I'll take care of them. Now, sir, if you want to go intocamp, the first thing for you to do is to bring your family here and letme take a look at them. I've seen them, of course, but I haven't made upmy mind yet whether they are the right sort for camp life. As for you, Ithink you will do. There isn't much of you, but you look tough. "

Mr. Archibald laughed. "That's good rough talk, " he said, "and smacks moreof camp life than anything I have noticed here. I will go and bring mywife and Miss Dearborn. "

"There is another reason why I want to see them, " said the bluff Peter. "As you are bent on camping, you'll like to choose a camp, and whenanything of that kind is on hand I want to talk to the whole party. Idon't care to settle the business with one of them, and then have him comeback and say that what has been agreed upon don't suit the others. I wanta full meeting or no session. "

When Mr. Archibald returned with his wife and Margery, he found PeterSadler had rolled his chair up to a large circular table at the back ofthe hall, on which was spread a map of the forest. He greeted the ladiesin a loud voice and with a cheery smile. 

"And so you want to go camping, do you?" said he. "Sit down and let ustalk it over. I think the young lady is all right. She looks spry enough, and I expect she could eat pine-cones like a squirrel if she was hungryand had nothing else. As for you, madam, you don't appear as if anythingin particular was the matter with you, and I should think you could standa Number Three camp well enough, and be all the better for a week or twoof it. "

"What is a Number Three camp?" asked Margery, before the astonished Mrs. Archibald could speak. 

"Well, " said Sadler, "it is a camp with a good deal of comfort in it. OurNumber One camps are pretty rough. They are for hunters and scientificpeople. We give them game enough in season, and some bare places wherethey can make fires and stretch a bit of canvas. That is all they want, tohave a truly good time. That is the best camp of all, I think. Number Twocamps are generally for fishermen. They always want a chance for prettygood living when they are out in the woods. They stay in camp in theevenings, and like to sit around and have a good time. Number Threes arethe best camps we put families into, so you see, madam, I'm rating youpretty high. There's always a log-cabin in these camps, with cots andstraw mattresses and plenty of traps for cooking. And, more than that, there is a chance for people who don't tramp or fish to do things, such aswalking or boating, according to circumstances. There's one of our campshas a croquet-ground. "

"Oh, we don't want that!" cried Margery, "it would simply ruin everyillusion that is left to me. "

"Glad to hear that, " said Peter. "If you want to play croquet, stay at thehotel; that's what I say. Now, then, here are the camps, and there'splenty of them to choose from. You've come in a good time, for the seasonisn't fairly begun yet. Next month every camp will be full, with the hotelcrowded with people waiting for their turns. "

"What we want, " said Margery, rising and looking over the map, "is thewildest Number Three you have. "

"Oh, ho!" said Peter. "Not so fast, miss; perhaps we'll wait and see whatthis lady has to say first. If I'm not mistaken, madam, I think you'reinclined the other way, and I don't put people into camps that they willbe wanting to leave after the first rainy day. Now let me show you whatI've got. Here is one, four hours' walk, horses for women, with a rockystream through the middle of it. "

"That is grand!" cried Margery. "Is it really in the woods?"

"Now let me do the talking, " said Peter. "They are all in the woods; wedon't make camps in pasture-fields. Even the Number Sevens, where themeals are sent to the campers from the hotel, and they have bath-tubs, arein the woods. Now here is another one, about three miles west from the oneI just showed you, but the same distance from here. This, you see, is onthe shore of a lake, with fishing, boating, and bathing, if you can standcold water. "

"Glorious!" cried Margery. "That is exactly what we want. A lake will besimply heavenly!"

"Everything seems to suit you, miss, " said Peter, "just as soon as youhear of it. But suppose we consider more of them before you choose. Sometwo miles north of here, in the thickest of the forest, in a clearing thatI made, there is a small camp that strikes the fancy of some people. Thereis a little stream there and it has fish in it too, and it runs throughone corner of the log-cabin, so there are seven or eight feet of thestream inside the house, and on rainy days you can sit there and fish; andsome people like to go to sleep with the running water gurgling close tothem where they can hear it when they are in bed. Then there's an owl tothis camp. The men heard him there when they were making the clearing, andhe's never left the spot. Some people who were out there said they neverfelt as much away from the world as they did listening to that littlestream gurgling and that owl hooting. "

"I believe, " exclaimed Margery, "that in a place like that I could writepoetry!"

"It would give me the rheumatism and the blues, " said Mrs. Archibald, uponwhich Peter Sadler exclaimed, "That settles that. Now then, here is another. "

Several other camps were considered, but it was the general conclusionthat the one by the lake was the most desirable. It had a good cabin withthree rooms, with plenty of open space, near by, for the tents of theguides; there was a boat which belonged to the camp, and in every way itseemed so suitable that Mr. Archibald secured it. He thought the price wasrather high, but as it included guides, provisions, fishing-tackle, and infact everything needed, he considered that although it might cost as muchas lodgings in a city hotel, they would get more good out of it. 

"Has this camp any name?" asked the enthusiastic Margery, in the course ofthe conference. 

"That's about your twenty-seventh question, miss, " said Peter, "but it'sone I can answer. Yes, it's got a name. It's called Camp Rob. "

"Oh!" ejaculated Margery, in a disappointed tone. "What a name!"

"Yes, " said Peter, "it isn't much of a name. The first people who went outthere named it that, and it stuck to it, and it's all it's got. Camps arelike horses--we've got to tell them apart, and so we give them names, andthat's Camp Rob. "

CHAPTER IV

A CATARACT OF INFORMATION

Peter Sadler would have been glad to have the Archibald party stay at hishotel for a few days, and Mrs. Archibald would have been perfectlysatisfied to remain there until they were ready to return to their ownhouse, but her husband and Margery were impatient to be in the woods, andit was therefore decided to start for the camp the next day. Peter Sadlerwas a man of system, and his arrangements were made promptly and rapidly. 

"You've got to have a guide, " said he, "and another man to help him, and Ithink I'll give you Phil Matlack. Phil is an old hand at the business, andif you don't know what you want, he'll tell you. If you are in Phil'shands, you needn't be afraid anything will happen to you. Whatever youwant, ask him for it, and ten to one he'll have it, whether it'sinformation or fishhooks. I tell you again, you're lucky to be here earlyand get the best of everything. Camp Rob with Phil Matlack will stand at apremium in three or four weeks from now. "

That evening after supper Mr. Archibald lighted a cigar and went out intothe grounds in front of the hotel, where he was presently joined by hiswife. 

"Where is Margery?" asked he. 

"She is in her room, " replied Mrs. Archibald, "but she called to me thatshe would be down directly. "

In about ten minutes down came Margery and floated out upon the lawn. Shewas dressed in white, with flowers in her hair, and she was more charming, Mr. Archibald said, as she approached, than even the sunset sky. 

"You should not speak in that way of works of nature, " said his wife. 

"Isn't she a work of nature?" he asked. 

"Not altogether, " was the wise reply. "Why did you dress yourself in thatfashion?" she asked Margery. "I did not suppose you would bring such afine gown, as we started out to go into camp. And even in this hotel atravelling-suit is good enough for any one. "

"Oh, I tucked this into one of my bags, " replied Margery. "I always liketo have something nice to fall back upon. Don't you want to take a littlestroll, Aunt Harriet?"

Mr. Archibald leaned back in his garden-chair and slowly puffed his cigar, and as he puffed he took his eyes from the sunset sky and watched his wifeand Margery. 

A little beyond them, as they walked, sat two elderly ladies on a bench, wearing shawls, and near by stood a girl in a short dress, with no hat on, and a long plait down her back. A little farther on was a tennis-court, and four people, apparently young, were playing tennis. There were twomen, and neither of them wore a tennis-suit. One was attired as abicyclist, and the other wore ordinary summer clothes. The young womenwere dressed in dark-blue flannel and little round hats, which suggestedto Mr. Archibald the deck of a yacht. 

Near the hotel was an elderly gentleman walking up and down by himself, and on the piazza were the rest of the guests he had seen at the table;not very many of them, for it was early in the season. 

Mr. Archibald now turned his eyes again to the sky. It was stillbeautiful, although its colors were fading, and after a time he lookedback towards his wife. She was now talking to the two elderly ladies onthe bench, and Margery was engaged in conversation with the girl with theplait down her back. 

"When I finish my cigar, " thought Mr. Archibald, "I will go myself andtake a stroll. " And it struck him that he might talk to the old gentleman, who was still walking up and down in front of the hotel. Aftercontemplating the tops of some forest trees against the greenish-yellow ofthe middle sky, he turned his eyes again towards his wife, and found thatthe two elderly ladies had made room for her on the bench, that thetennis-game had ceased, and that one of the girls in blue flannel hadjoined this group and was talking to Margery. 

In a few moments all the ladies on the bench rose, and Mrs. Archibald andone of them walked slowly towards an opening in the woods. The other ladyfollowed with the little girl, and Margery and the young woman in bluewalked in the same direction, but not in company with the rest of theparty. The two young men, with the other tennis-player between them, walked over from the tennis-court and joined the first group, and they allstopped just as they reached the woods. There they stood and began talkingto each other, after which one of the young men and the young womanapproached a large tree, and he poked with a stick into what was probablya hole near its roots, and Mr. Archibald supposed that the discussionconcerned a snake-hole or a hornets' nest. Then Margery and the otheryoung woman came up, and they looked at the hole. Now the whole companywalked into the woods and disappeared. In about ten minutes Mr. Archibaldfinished his cigar and was thinking of following his wife and Margery, when the two elderly ladies and Mrs. Archibald came out into the open andwalked towards the hotel. Then came the little girl, running very fast asshe passed the tree with the hole near its roots. In a few minutes Mrs. Archibald stopped and looked back towards the woods; then she walked alittle way in that direction, leaving her companions to go to the hotel. Now the young man in the bicycle suit emerged from the woods, with a girlin dark-blue flannel on each side of him. 

"Upon my word!" exclaimed Mr. Archibald, and rising to his feet, advancedtowards his wife; but before he reached her, Margery emerged from the woodroad, escorted by the young man in the summer suit. 

"Upon my word, " Mr. Archibald remarked, this time to his wife, "that wardof ours is not given to wasting time. "

"It seems so, truly, " said she, "and I think her mother was right when shecalled her a creature of impulse. Let us wait here until they come up. Wemust all go in; it is getting chilly. "

In a few minutes Margery and the young man had reached them. 

"Thank you very much, " said this creature of impulse to her escort. "Myuncle and aunt will take care of me now. Aunt Harriet and Uncle Archibald, this is Mr. Clyde. He saw a great snake go into a hole over there justbefore supper-time, and I think we ought all to be very careful how wepass that way. "

"I don't think there is very much danger after nightfall, " said Mr. Clyde, who was a pleasant youth with brown hair, "and to-morrow I'll see if I cankill him. It's a bad place for a snake to have a hole, just where ladieswould be apt to take their walks. "

"I don't think the snake will trouble us much, " said Mrs. Archibald, "forwe leave to-morrow. Still, it would be a good thing to kill it. "

After this there were a few remarks made about snakes, and then Mr. Clydebade them good-evening. 

"How in the world, Margery, " said Mrs. Archibald, "did you get acquaintedso quickly with that young man--and who is he?"

"Oh, it all happened quite naturally, " said she. "As we turned to go outof the woods he was the gentleman nearest to me, and so of course he camewith me. Those two girls are sisters, and their name is Dodworth. Theyintroduced Mr. Clyde and the other gentleman, Mr. Raybold, to me. But thatwas after you had been talking to Mrs. Dodworth, their mother, who is Mr. Raybold's aunt. The other lady, with the shawl on, is Mrs. Henderson, and--would you believe it?--she's grandmother to that girl in the shortdress! She doesn't begin to look old enough. The Dodworths don't go intocamp at all, but expect to stay here for two weeks longer, and then theygo to the sea-shore. Mrs. Henderson leaves day after to-morrow. 

"Mr. Clyde and his friend live in Boston. They are both just beginning topractise law, though Mr. Clyde says that Mr. Raybold would rather be anactor, but his family objects. The old gentleman who is walking up anddown in front of the hotel has heart-disease, some people say--but that isnot certain. He stayed here all last summer, and perhaps he will thisyear. In two weeks hardly any of the people now in this hotel will behere. One family is going into camp when the father and two sons come onto join them, and the rest are going to the sea-shore, except one lady. You may have noticed her--the one with a dark-purple dress and a littlepurple cap. She's a school-teacher, and she will spend the rest of thesummer with her sister in Pennsylvania. 

"That man Phil Matlack, who is going with us to-morrow, is quite acharacter, and I expect I shall like him awfully. They say that about fiveyears ago he killed a man who made an attack on him in the woods, but hewas never tried for it, nor was anything whatever done to him, because Mr. Sadler said he was right, and he would not have any nonsense about it. There are people about here who believe that Phil Matlack would fight abear single-handed if it happened to be necessary. Mr. Sadler would do ithimself if he could walk. Nobody knows how many men he killed when he wasfighting Indians; and, would you believe it? his wife is a plain, little, quiet woman, who lives in some part of the hotel where nobody ever seesher, because she is rather bashful and dislikes company. 

"The other person who is going with us is not very much more than a boy, though they say he is very strong and a good hunter. His name is MartinSanders, and I forgot to say that the old gentleman with the heart-diseaseis named Parker. 

"It's generally thought that Phil Matlack would rather have some one elsethan Martin Sanders to go with him, because he says Martin knows too much. The fact is that Martin is well educated, and could have gone into somegood business, but he was so fond of the woods that he gave up everythingto come out here and learn guiding. You know we were told that our camp inthe woods has three rooms in it? Well, it really has four, for there wasan artist there last year who built a little room for a studio for rainydays. I expect Mr. Sadler forgot that, or didn't think it worth counting. There are no snakes at all where we are going to camp, but two milesfarther on there are lots of them. "

"Over the brink of Niagara, " interjected Mr. Archibald, "they say eighteenmillion cubic feet of water pour every minute. Where on earth, Margery, did you fill your mind with all that information?"

"I got it from those two Dodworth girls and Mr. Clyde, " said she. "Mr. Raybold told me some things, too, but mostly about his bicycle. He feelsbadly about it, because he brought it here, and now he finds there is noplace to use it. I should think he ought to have known that the primevalforest isn't any place for a bicycle. "

"Mr. Archibald, " said Mrs. Archibald, when they had retired to their room, "I did not agree with you when you wished we could have started for campto-day, but now I am quite of your mind. "

Tuesday was fine, and preparations were made for the Archibald party tostart for their camp after an early luncheon. 

The bluff and hearty Peter took such an interest in everything that wasbeing done for their comfort, giving special heed to all the possiblerequirements of Mrs. Archibald, that the heart of Mr. Archibald wastouched. 

"I wish, " said he to his good-natured host, "that you were going with us. I do not know any one I would rather camp with than you. "

"If I could do it, " replied Peter, "I'd like it ever so well. So far as Ihave been able to make you out, you are the sort of a man I'd be willingto run a camp for. What I like about you is that you haven't any mind ofyour own. There is nothing I hate worse than to run against a man with amind of his own. Of course there have to be such fellows, but let themkeep away from me. There is no room here for more than one mind, and Ihave pre-empted the whole section. "

Mr. Archibald laughed. "Your opinion of me does not sound verycomplimentary, " he said. 

"It is complimentary!" roared Peter Sadler, striking the table with hisfist. "Why, I tell you, sir, I couldn't say anything more commendable ofyou if I tried! It shows that you are a man of common-sense, and that'spretty high praise. Everything I've told you to do you've done. EverythingI've proposed you've agreed to. You see for yourself that I know what isbetter for you and your party than you do, and you stand up like a man andsay so. Yes, sir; if a rolling-chair wasn't as bad for the woods as thebicycle that Boston chap brought down here, I'd go along with you. "

Mr. Archibald had a very sharp sense of the humorous, and in his enjoymentof a comical situation he liked company. His heart was stirred to put hisexpedition in its true light before this man who was so honest andplain-spoken. "Mr. Sadler, " said he, "if you will take it as a piece ofconfidential information, and not intended for the general ear, I willtell you what sort of a holiday my wife and I are taking. We are on awedding-journey. " And then he told the story of the proxy bridal tour. 

Peter Sadler threw himself back in his chair and laughed with such greatroars that two hunting-dogs, who were asleep in the hall, sprang to theirfeet and dashed out of the back door, their tails between their legs. 

"By the Lord Harry!" cried Peter Sadler, "you and your wife are a pair ofgiants. I don't say anything about that young woman, for I don't believeit would have made any difference to her whether you were on awedding-trip or travelling into the woods to bury a child. I tell you, sir, you mayn't have a mind that can give out much, but you've got a mindthat can take in the biggest kind of thing, and that is what I call grand. It is the difference between a canyon and a mountain. There are lots ofgood mountains in this world, and mighty few good canyons. Tom, you Tom, come here!"

In answer to the loud call a boy came running up. 

"Go into my room, " said Peter Sadler, "and bring out a barrel bottle, large size, and one of the stone jars with a red seal on it. Now, sir, "said he to Mr. Archibald, "I am going to give you a bottle of the verybest whiskey that ever a human being took into the woods, and a jar ofsmoking-tobacco a great deal too good for any king on any throne. Theybelong to my private stock, and I am proud to make them a present to a manwho will take a wedding-trip to save his grown-up daughter the trouble. Asfor your wife, there'll be a basket that will go to her with mycompliments, that will show her what I think of her. By-the-way, sir, haveyou met Phil Matlack?"

"No, I have not!" exclaimed Mr. Archibald, with animation. "I have heardsomething about him, and before we start I should like to see the man whois going to take charge of us in camp. "

"Well, there he is, just passing the back door. Hello, Phil! come inhere. "

When the eminent guide, Phil Matlack, entered the hall, Mr. Archibaldlooked at him with some surprise, for he was not the conventional tall, gaunt, wiry, keen-eyed backwoodsman who had naturally appeared to hismental vision. This man was of medium height, a little round-shouldered, dressed in a gray shirt, faded brown trousers very baggy at the knees, apair of conspicuous blue woollen socks, and slippers made of carpet. Hisshort beard and his hair were touched with gray, and he wore a smalljockey cap. With the exception of his eyes, Mr. Matlack's facial featureswere large, and the expression upon them was that of a mild and generallygood-natured tolerance of the world and all that is in it. It may bestated that this expression, combined with his manner, indicated also adesire on his part that the world and all that is in it should toleratehim. Mr. Archibald's first impressions of the man did not formulatethemselves in these terms; he simply thought that the guide was a slipshodsort of a fellow. 

"Phil, " said Mr. Sadler, "here is the gentleman you are going to take intocamp. "

"Glad to see him, " said Matlack; "hope he'll like it. "

"And I want to say to you, Phil, " continued Sadler, "right before him, that he is a first-class man for you to have in charge. I don't believeyou ever had a better one. He's a city man, and it's my opinion he don'tknow one thing about hunting, fishing, making a camp-fire, or even diggingbait. I don't suppose he ever spent a night outside of a house, anddoesn't know any more about the weather than he does about plantingcabbages. He's just clean, bright, and empty, like a new peach-basket. What you tell him he'll know, and what you ask him to do he'll do, and ifyou want a better man than that to take into camp, you want too much. That's all I've got to say. "

Matlack looked at Peter Sadler and then at Mr. Archibald, who was leaningback in his chair, his bright eyes twinkling. 

"How did you find out all that about him?" he asked. 

"Humph!" exclaimed Peter Sadler. "Don't you suppose I can read a man'scharacter when I've had a good chance at him? Now how about thestores--have they all gone on?"

"They were sent out early this mornin', " said Matlack, "and we can startas soon as the folks are ready. "

CHAPTER V

CAMP ROB

It was early in the afternoon when the Archibald party took up the line ofmarch for Camp Rob. The two ladies, supplied by Mrs. Sadler with coarseriding-skirts, sat each upon a farm-horse, and Mr. Archibald held thebridle of the one that carried his wife. Matlack and Martin Sanders, theyoung man who was to assist him, led the way, while a led horse, loadedwith the personal baggage of the travellers, brought up the rear. 

Their way wound through a forest over a wood road, very rough and barelywide enough for the passage of a cart. The road was solemn and still, except where, here and there, an open space allowed the sunlight to playupon a few scattered wild flowers and brighten the sombre tints of theundergrowth. 

After a ride which seemed a long one to the ladies, who wished they hadattired themselves in walking-costume, the road and the forest suddenlycame to an end, and before them stretched out the waters of a small lake. Camp Rob was not far from the head of the lake, and for some distanceabove and below the forest stood back from the water's edge. In the shadeof a great oak tree there stood a small log-house, rude enough to look at, but moderately comfortable within, and from this house to the shore a widespace was cleared of bushes and undergrowth. 

The lake was narrow in proportion to its length, which was about twomiles, and on the other side the forest looked like a solid wall of greenreflected in the water beneath. Even Mrs. Archibald, whose aching backbegan to have an effect upon her disposition, was delighted with thebeauty of the scene, which delight endured until she had descended fromher horse and entered the log-cabin in which she was to dwell for a time. 

It is not necessary to describe the house, nor is it necessary to diveinto the depths of Mrs. Archibald's mind as she gazed about her, passingsilently from room to room of the little house. She was a good woman, andshe had made up her mind that she would not be a millstone around thenecks of her companions. Many people have been happy in camps, and, indeed, camp-life has become one of the features of our highercivilization, and this, from what she had heard, must be a camp above thecommon. So, think what she might, she determined to make no opencomplaint. If it were possible for her to be happy here, she would behappy. 

As for Margery, no determination was needed in her case. Everything wasbetter than she had expected to find it. The cabin, with the bark onalmost everything, even the furniture, was just what a house in the woodsought to be; and when she entered the little studio, which was nearerallied to the original forest than any other part of the house, shedeclared that that must be her room, and that living there she would feelalmost like a dryad in an oak. 

"You've camped out before?" said Phil Matlack to Mr. Archibald, as he wastaking a survey of the scene. 

"Oh yes, " said the other, "I've been out a few days at a time withfishing-parties, but we never had such a fine camp as this--so welllocated and such good accommodations. "

"You are a fisherman, then?" said the guide. 

"Yes. I am very fond of it. I've fished ever since I was a boy, and know agood deal about bait, in spite of what Mr. Sadler said. "

"I had an idea of that sort, " remarked Phil, "but it ain't no use tocontradict Peter. It helps keep up his spirits for him to think he canread the characters of people just as quick as he can aim a rifle. Andit's a mighty important thing to keep Peter's spirits up. If Peter'sspirits was to go down, things round here would flatten out worse than arotten punkin when it's dropped. "

It did not take long to establish the new-comers in their woodlandquarters. The tent for the two men, which had arrived in the morning, waspitched not far from the cabin, and then Matlack and Martin went to workto prepare supper. The dining-room in pleasant weather was the small spacein front of the house, where there was a table made of a wide boardsupported by stakes, with a low and narrow board on each side, alsoresting on stakes, and forming seats. 

The supper was a better one and better served than any of the party hadexpected. The camp outfit included table-cloths, and even napkins. 

"To-morrow, " said Matlack, as he brought a dish of hot and savory broiledham, "after Mr. Archibald gets to work, we'll have some fish. "

Mrs. Archibald had been a little fearful that under these primitiveconditions the two men might expect to sit at the table with them, but sheneed have had no such fears. Matlack and Martin cooked and waited with askill and deftness which would have surprised any one who did not reflectthat this was as much their business as hunting or woodcraft. 

After supper a camp-fire was built at a safe distance from the house, foralthough the evening air was but slightly cool, a camp without a camp-firewould not be a camp. The party ranged themselves around it, Mrs. Archibaldon a rug brought from the cabin, and her husband and Margery on theground. Mr. Archibald lighted his pipe, the fire lighted the trees and thelake, and joy inexpressible lighted the heart of Margery. 

"If I could smoke a pipe, " said she, "and get Mr. Matlack to come here andtell me how he killed a man, I should be perfectly happy. "

That night Mrs. Archibald lay awake on her straw mattress. Absolutedarkness was about her, but through the open window she could see, overthe tops of the trees on the other side of the lake, one little star. 

"If I could get any comfort out of that little star, " thought the goodlady, "I would do it; but I can't do it, and there is nothing else tocomfort me. "

On the other side of the room, on another straw mattress, she could hearher husband breathing steadily. Then, upon the bare boards of the floor, which were but a few inches below her little cot-bed, she thought sheheard the patter of small feet. A squirrel, perhaps, or, horrible to thinkof, it might be a rat. She was sure rats would eat straw beds, and herfirst impulse was to wake Mr. Archibald; but she hesitated, he wassleeping so soundly. Still she listened, and now she became almost certainthat what she heard was not the patter of small feet; it sounded more likesomething soft which was dragging itself over the floor--possibly a snake. This idea was simply awful, and she sat up in bed. Still she did not callMr. Archibald, for should he suddenly spring on the floor, he would be inmore danger from the snake than she was. 

She listened and she listened, but she heard nothing more, and then herreason began to assure her that a snake's movements on a bare floor wouldbe absolutely noiseless; but in a moment all thoughts of serpents weredriven from her head. Outside of the cabin she heard a sound that could benothing less than the footsteps of some living creature--a wild beast, perhaps a panther. The door was shut and fastened, but the window wasopen. To call Mr. Archibald and tell him a wild beast was walking outsidethe house would be positively wicked. Half-awakened, he would probablyrush out of the door to see what it was. What could she do? For an instantshe thought of lighting a candle and standing it in the window. She knewthat wild beasts were afraid of fire, and she did not believe that even apanther would dare jump over a lighted candle. But if she struck a matchand got up, she would waken her husband; and, besides, if the wind, ofwhich she could feel a puff every now and then, did not blow out thecandle, it might blow it over and set fire to the cabin. 

She heard the footsteps no more, and lay down again, but not to sleep. Thewind seemed to be rising, and made a wild, unearthly sound as it surgedthrough the trees which surrounded and imprisoned her, and shut her outfrom the world in which she was born and in which she ought to live. Therewas a far-away sound which came to her ears once, twice, thrice, and whichmight have been the call of some ghostly bird or the war-whoop of anIndian. At last she drew the covering over her head, determined that, solong as she could not see, she would not hear. 

"A wedding-journey!" she said to herself, and the idea, coupled with thesense of her present grewsome and doleful condition, was so truly absurdand ridiculous that she could not restrain a melancholy laugh. 

"What is the matter, my dear?" exclaimed Mr. Archibald, suddenly turningover in his bed. "Are you choking? Is the room too close? Shall I open thedoor?"

"No, indeed, " she said, "for that was a laugh you heard. I couldn't helplaughing at the thought that there should be two such idiots in the worldas you and myself. "

"It is idiotic, isn't it?" said Mr. Archibald. "It is gloriously idiotic, and it will do us both a world of good. It is such a complete and perfectchange that I don't wonder you laugh. " Then he laughed himself, clearlyand loudly, and turned over on his side and went to sleep. 

Mrs. Archibald felt certain that she would not sleep another wink thatnight, but she did sleep seven hours and a half, and was awakened byMargery singing outside her window. 

CHAPTER VI

CAMP ROY

No thoughts of idiocy crossed the minds of any of the camping party duringtheir first breakfast under the great oak-tree. The air, the sunlight, therippling waters of the lake, the white clouds in the blue sky, the greattrunks of the trees, the rustling of the leaves, the songs of the birds, the hum of insects, the brightness of everything, their wonderfulappetites--the sense of all these things more than filled their minds. 

For the greater part of that day Mr. Archibald fished, sometimes in astream which ran into the head of the lake about a quarter of a mile abovethe camp, and sometimes on the shores of the lake itself. Margerysketched; her night in the studio had filled her with dreams of art, andshe had discovered in a corner a portable easel made of hickory stickswith the bark on, and she had tucked some drawing materials into one ofher bags. 

Mrs. Archibald was a little tired with her journey of the day before, andcontented herself with sitting in the shade in pleasant places, occupiedwith some needle-work she had brought with her, and trying to disciplineher mind to habits of happiness in camp. This was not very difficultduring the first part of this beautiful day, but towards the end of theafternoon she began to think less of the joys of a free life in the heartof nature and more of the pleasure of putting on her bonnet and going outto make some calls upon her friends. In this state of mind it pleased herto 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 afternoontea in the woods, and I really don't care for it. "

"We can have 'most anything in the woods, ma'am, " said Matlack, "that wecan have anywhere else, providin' you don't mind what sort of fashion youhave it in. I thought it might be sort of comfortin' to you to have a cupof tea. I've noticed that in most campin' parties of the family orderthere's generally one or two of them that's lonesome the first day; andthe fact is I don't count on anything particular bein' done on the firstday in camp, except when the party is regular hunters or fishermen. It'sjust as well for some of them to sit round on the first day and let thingssoak into them, provided it isn't rain, and the next day they will have amore natural feelin' about what they really want to do. Now I expect youwill be off on some sort of a tramp to-morrow, ma'am, or else be out inthe boat; and as for that young lady, she's not goin' to sketch no moreafter 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 oftenthat I expect he'll fall asleep and tumble overboard, or else drop one ofhis oars. "

"Mr. Matlack, " said Mrs. Archibald, "will you please sit down a moment? Iwant to ask you something. "

"Certainly, ma'am, " said he, and forthwith seated himself on a log nearby, picking up a stick as he did so, and beginning to shave the bark fromit 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' aboutyour cabin last night, " said he; "and not only panthers, but most likely abear or two, and snakes rustlin' in the leaves; and, for all I know, coonsor '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 allthose things, but most likely a part of them. Hardly any family partiesgoes 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 callfirst-nighters, and they're about the worst kind we've got, because theyreally do hurt people by scratchin' and clawin' at their nerves, whereasthe real wild beasts in these parts--and they're mighty scarce, and nevercome 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 verysoon. "

"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. Itdon't hurt anybody; it only keeps the meals waitin'. You see, we arepretty nigh the first people out this year, and the fish bite lively. Areyou fond of fishin', ma'am?"

"No, indeed, " said she; "I dislike it. I think it is cruel and slimy andgenerally 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 goout in a boat except with a regular boatman. I suppose you have a largerboat than the one that young man is in? I can see it from here, and itlooks very small. "

"No, ma'am, " said Matlack; "that's the only one we've got. And now I guessI'll go see about supper. This has been a lazy day for us, but we alwaysdo calc'late on a lazy day to begin with. "

"It strikes me, " said Matlack to himself, as he walked away, "that thishere camp will come to an end pretty soon. The man and the young womancould stand it for a couple of weeks, but there's nothing here for the oldlady, and it can't be long before she'll have us all out of the woodsagain. "

"You can come in, " called Margery, about ten minutes after thisconversation; and young Martin, who had not the least idea of going tosleep in the boat, dipped his oars in the water and rowed ashore, pulledthe boat up on the beach, and then advanced to the spot where Margery waspreparing 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 sceneitself. When I make a drawing from nature I never copy everything I seejust as if I were making a photograph. I suppose you think I ought to drawthe boat just as it is, but I always put something of my own in mypictures. And that, you see, is a different kind of a boat from the oneyou were in. It is something like Venetian boats. "

"It isn't like anything in this part of the world, that is true, " said theyoung man, as he held the drawing in his hand; "and if it had been morelike a gondola it would not have suited the scene. I think you have caughtthe spirit of the landscape very well; but if you don't object to a littlecriticism, I should say that the shore over there is too near theforeground. It seems to me that the picture wants atmosphere; that wouldhelp 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 agood part of the last winter, and when I wasn't out hunting I made a goodmany drawings of winter scenes. I would be glad to show them to you whenwe go back. "

"Well, " said she, "if I had known you were an artist I would not haveasked 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 ifyou make any more water sketches and would like me to put some ducks orany other kind of wild-fowl in the foreground I will be glad to do it foryou. I have made a specialty of natural-history drawings. Don't botheryourself about that easel; I'll carry up your things for you. "

About half-way to the cabin Margery suddenly stopped and turned roundtowards the young man, who was following her. "How did you come to be aguide?" she asked. 

He smiled. "That's because I was born a naturalist and a sportsman. I wentinto business when I finished my education, but I couldn't stand that, andas I couldn't afford to become a gentleman sportsman, I came here as aguide. I'm getting a lot of experience in this sort of life, and when I'vesaved money enough I'm going on an exploring expedition, most likely toCentral 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 Americancitizens, and I don't see why they can't eat at the table with us insteadof waiting until we have finished. We are all free and equal in thewoods. "

"Margery Dearborn!" exclaimed Mrs. Archibald. "What are you talkingabout?"

She was going to say that if there were one straw more needed to break herback, that straw would be the sight of the two guides sitting at the tablewith them, but she restrained herself. She did not want Mr. Archibald toknow anything about the condition of her back. 

"So long as they don't want to do it, and don't do it, " said she, "praydon't let us say anything about it. Let's try to make things as pleasantas we can. "

Mr. Archibald was lighting his pipe, and when he was sure the tobacco wassufficiently ignited he took the pipe from his mouth and turned towardshis wife. 

"Harriet, " said he, "you have been too much alone to-day. I don't knowwhat I shall do to-morrow; but whatever it is, I am going to take you withme. "

"Of course that depends on what it is you do, " she answered. "But I willtry 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 tolast very much longer, and we shall be obliged to make the rest of ourwedding-journey in a different style. "

The next morning, when Mr. Archibald went out of his cabin door, he lookedover the lake and saw a bird suddenly swoop down upon the water, breakingthe smooth surface into sparkles of silver, and then rise again, a littlesilvery fish glittering in its claws. 

"Beautifully done!" said he. "A splendid stroke!" And then turning, helooked up the lake, and not far from the water's edge he saw Margerywalking with Mr. Clyde, while Mr. Raybold followed a little in the rear. 

"Harriet, " he cried, quickly stepping into the cabin again, "look outhere! What is the meaning of this?"

Mrs. Archibald was dressed, and came out. When she saw the trioapproaching them, she was not so much surprised as was her husband. 

"I don't know the meaning of anything that happens in these woods, " shesaid; "but if a lot of people have come from the hotel with those youngmen 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 withoutstretched hands, as if they had been old friends. Mr. Archibald, notwithout some mental disquietude at this intrusion upon the woodlandprivacy of his party, was about to begin a series of questions, when hewas 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, andit is called Camp Roy. You see, some years ago there was a large campingparty came here, and they called the place Camp Rob Roy, but it wasafterwards divided, and one part called Camp Rob and the other Camp Roy. "

"Indeed!" interrupted Mr. Archibald. "Mr. Sadler did not tell us that ourswas only half a camp with only half a name. "

"I don't suppose he thought of it, " said Margery. "And the line betweenthe two camps is just three hundred feet above our cabin. I don't supposeanybody 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 startedbefore daybreak this morning, and brought a tent along with them, whichthey have pitched just back of that little peninsula; and they haven't anyguide, 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 aregoing to live there just like real backwoodsmen, and they have a boat oftheir own, which is to be brought up from the bottom of the lakesomewhere--I mean from the lower end of the lake. And, Aunt Harriet, may Ispeak to you a moment?"

With this the young woman drew Mrs. Archibald aside, and in a low voiceasked if she thought it would be out of the way to invite the two youngmen to take breakfast with them, as it was not likely they had all theircooking things in order so early. 

Five people sat down to breakfast under the great oak-tree, and it was alively meal. Mr. Archibald's mental disquiet, in which were now apparentsome elements of resentment, had not subsided, but the state of his minddid not show itself in his demeanor, and he could not help feeling pleasedto see that his wife was in better spirits. He had always known that sheliked 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 toourselves; but if there are other camps jammed close against it we may bein 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. "Thefact is, it is only the tail end of a camp, and I don't suppose PeterSadler thought anybody would be likely to take it just now, and so didn'tthink it worth while to speak of it. Of course it's jammed up against thisone, as you say; but then the people in one camp haven't the right tocross the line into another camp if the people in the other camp don'twant them to. "

"Line!" said Mr. Archibald. "It is absurd to think of lines in a placelike this. And I have no intention of making myself disagreeable byordering people off my premises. But I would like to know if there isanother camp three hundred feet on this side of our cabin, or threehundred feet back of it. "

"No, sir, " said Matlack, speaking promptly; "there isn't another campbetween this and the lower end of the lake. There's a big one there, andit'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 alittle later, "I should not mind it so much. But two young men! I do notlike it. "

CHAPTER VII

A STRANGER

It was at the close of a pleasant afternoon four days after the arrival ofthe young men at Camp Roy, and Mrs. Archibald was seated on a camp-stoolnear the edge of the lake intently fishing. By her side stood PhilMatlack, who had volunteered to interpose himself between her and all thedisagreeable adjuncts of angling. He put the bait upon her hook, he toldher when her cork was bobbing sufficiently to justify a jerk, and when shecaught a little fish he took it off the hook. Fishing in this pleasantwise had become very agreeable to the good lady, and she found pleasuresin camp life which she had not anticipated. Her husband was in a boat somedistance out on the lake, and he was also fishing, but she did not carefor that style of sport; the fish were too big and the boat too small. 

A little farther down the lake Martin Sanders sat busily engaged inputting some water-fowl into the foreground of Margery's sketch. Acritical observer might have noticed that he had also made a number ofchanges in said sketch, all of which added greatly to its merits as apicture of woodland scenery. At a little distance Margery was sitting ather easel making a sketch of Martin as an artist at work in the woods. Thetwo young men had gone off with their guns, not perhaps because theyexpected to find any legitimate game at that season, but hoping to securesome ornithological specimens, or to get a shot at some minor quadrupedsunprotected by law. Another reason for their expedition could probablyhave been found in some strong hints given by Mr. Archibald that it wasunwise for them to be hanging around the camps and taking no advantage ofthe opportunities for sport offered by the beautiful weather and theforest. 

It was not long before Margery became convinced that the sketch on whichshe was working did not resemble her model, nor did it very much resemblean artist at work in the woods. 

"It looks a good deal more like a cobbler mending shoes, " she said toherself, "and I'll keep it for that. Some day I will put a bench under himand a shoe in his hand instead of a sketch. " With that she rose, and wentto see how Martin was getting on. "I think, " she said, "those dark ducksimprove the picture very much. They throw the other things back. " Then shestopped, went to one side, and gazed out over the lake. "I wonder, " shesaid, "if there is really any fun in fishing. Uncle Archibald has been outin that boat for more than two hours, and he has fished almost every daysince he's been here. I should think he would get tired of it. "

"Oh no, " said Martin, looking up with animation. "If you know how to fish, and there is good sport, you never get tired of it. "

"I know how to fish, " said Margery, "and I do not care about it at all. "

"You know how to fish?" said Martin. "Can you make a cast with a fly?"

"I never tried that, " said she. "But I have fished as Aunt Harriet does, and it is easy as can be. "

"Oh, " said he, "you don't know anything about fishing unless you havefished with a fly. That is the only real sport. It is as exciting as abattle. If you would let me teach you how to throw a fly, I am sure youwould never find fishing tiresome, and these woods would be like a newworld to you. "

"Why don't you do it yourself, then?" she asked. 

"Because I am paid to do other things, " he replied. "We are not sent heresimply to enjoy ourselves, though I must say that I--" And then hesuddenly stopped. "I wish you would let me teach you fly-fishing. I knowyou would like it. "

Margery looked at the eager face turned towards her, and then she gazedout over the water. 

"Perhaps I might like it, " she said. "But it wouldn't be necessary for youto take that trouble. Uncle Archibald has two or three times asked me togo out with him, and of course he would teach me how to fish as he does. Isn't that somebody calling you?"

"Yes, " said Martin, rising; "it's Phil. I suppose it's nearlysupper-time. "

As they walked towards the camp, Margery in front, and Martin behind hercarrying the drawing-materials and the easel, Margery suddenly turned. 

[Illustration: "'THEY THROW THE OTHER THINGS BACK'"]

"It was very good of you to offer to teach me to fish with flies, " shesaid, "and perhaps, if Uncle Archibald doesn't want to be bothered, I mayget you to show me how to do it. "

The young man's face brightened, and he was about to express his pleasurewith considerable warmth; but he checked himself, and merely remarked thatwhenever she was ready he would provide a rod and flies and show her howto use them. 

Mrs. Archibald had gone into the cabin, and Margery went up to Matlack, who was on his way to the little tent in which the camp cooking was done. 

"Did Mrs. Archibald tell you, " said she, "that we have invited Mr. Clydeand Mr. Raybold to supper to-night?"

The guide stopped and smiled. "She told me, " said he, "but I don't knowthat it was altogether necessary. "

"I suppose you mean, " said Margery, "that they are here so much; but Idon't wonder; they must do awfully poor cooking for themselves. I don'tsuppose they will bring anything back that is good to eat. "

"Not at this time of year, " said he, "but I shall be satisfied if theybring themselves home. "

"What do you mean by that?" asked Margery, quickly. 

"Well, " said Matlack, "I don't doubt the bicycle fellow will always comeback all right, but I'm afeard about the other one. That bicycle chapdon't know no more about a gun than he does about makin' bread, and Iwouldn't go out huntin' with him for a hundred dollars. He's just aslikely to take a crack at his pardner's head as at anything else that'smovin' in the woods. "

"That is dreadful!" exclaimed Margery. 

"Yes, it is, " returned the guide; "and if I had charge of their camp hewouldn't go out with a gun again. But it will be all right in a day ortwo. Peter will settle that. "

"Mr. Sadler, do you mean?" asked Margery. "What's he got to do with it?"

"He's got everything to do with it, " said Matlack. "He's got everything todo with everything in this part of the country. He's got his laws, and hesees to it that people stand by them. One of his rules is that people whodon't know how to use guns sha'n't shoot in his camps. "

"But how can he know about the people out here in the woods?" askedMargery. 

"I tell you, miss, " said Matlack, speaking slowly and decisively, "PeterSadler's ways of knowing things is like gas--the kind you burn, I mean. Iwas a-visitin' once in a city house, and slept in a room on the top floor, and there was a leak in the pipe in the cellar, and that gas just wentover the whole house, into every room and closet, and even under the beds, and I've often thought that that was just like Peter's way of doin' thingsand knowin' things. You take my word for it, that bicycle-man won't go outhuntin' many more days, even if he don't shoot his pardner fust. "

"He won't go to-morrow, " thought Margery; and then she said to Matlack: "Ithink we ought to know Mr. Sadler's rules. Has he any more of them?"

"Oh, they ain't very many, " said Matlack. "But there's one I think of now, and that is that no woman shall go out in a boat by herself on thislake. "

"That is simply horrid!" exclaimed Margery. "Women can row as well asmen. "

"I don't say they can't, " said Matlack. "I'm only tellin' you what Peter'srules are, and that's one of them. "

Margery made no reply, but walked away, her head thrown back a little morethan was usual with her. 

"I've got to keep my eye on her, " said Matlack to himself, as he went tothe cabin; "she's never been broke to no harness. "

 * * * * *

Mr. Raybold did not shoot Mr. Clyde, nor did he shoot anything else. Mr. Clyde did shoot a bird, but it fell into the water at a place where theshore was very marshy, and it was impossible for him to get it. He thoughtit was a heron, or a bittern, or perhaps a fish-hawk, but whatever it was, both ladies said that it was a great pity to kill it, as it was not goodto eat, and must have been very happy in its life in the beautifulforest. 

"It is very cruel to shoot them when they are not strictly game, " said Mr. Clyde, "and I don't believe I will do it. If I had the things to stuffthem with, that would be different, but I haven't. I believe fishing isjust as much fun, and more sensible. "

"I do not!" exclaimed Mr. Raybold. "I hold that hunting is a manly art, and that a forester's life is as bold and free to him as it is to thebirds in the air. I believe I have the blood of a hunter in me. My voiceis for the woods. "

"I expect you will change your voice, " thought Margery, "when Mr. Sadlertakes your gun away from you. " But she did not say so. 

Mr. Archibald stood with his hands in his pockets reflecting. He had hopedthat these two young men were inveterate hunters, and that they wouldspend their days in long tramps. He did not at all approve of theirfishing. Fishing could be done anywhere--here, for instance, right at thisvery door. 

Supper was over, and the five inhabitants of Camps Rob and Roy had seatedthemselves around the fire which Martin had carefully built, keeping inview a cheery blaze without too much heat. Pipes had been filled andpreparations made for the usual evening smoke and talk, when a man wasseen emerging from the woods at the point where the road opened into theclearing about the camp. It was still light, for these hungry camperssupped early, and the man could be distinctly seen as he approached, andit was plain that he was not a messenger from Sadler's. 

He was rather a large man, dressed in black, and wearing a felt hat with awide, straight brim. Hanging by a strap from his shoulder was a smallleather bag, and in his hand he carried a closed umbrella. Advancingtowards the fire, he took off his hat, bowed, and smiled. He wore nobeard, his face was round and plump, and his smile was pleasant. 

"Good-evening, ladies and gentlemen, " said he, and his voice was aspleasant as his smile. 

"Good-evening, " said Mr. Archibald, and then for a moment there was apause. 

"I presume, " said the new-comer, looking about him, "that this is acamp. "

"It is a camp, " said Mr. Archibald. 

"The fact is so obvious, " said the man in black, "that it was reallyunnecessary for me to allude to it. May I ask to be allowed to sit downfor a few moments? I am fatigued. "

At this juncture Phil Matlack arrived on the scene. "Well, sir, " said he, "have you any business with anybody here? Who do you wish to see?"

"I have no business, " said the other, "and--"

"And you are a stranger to everybody here?" interrupted Matlack. 

"Yes, but I hope--"

"Now then, " said the guide, quickly, "I've got to ask you to move on. Thisis one of Peter Sadler's camps, and he has strict rules against strangersstoppin' in any of them. If you've lost your way, I'll tell you that thisroad, if you don't turn to the right or the left, will take you straightto Sadler's, and there's time enough for you to get there before dark. "

"Mr. Matlack, " exclaimed Mrs. Archibald, who had risen to her feet, "Iwant to speak to you! It's a shame, " she said, when the guide hadapproached her, "to send that man away without even giving him a chance torest himself. He may be a very respectable person on a walking tour. "

"I guess he is on a walkin' tour, " said Matlack, "and I guess he's aregular tramp, and there's no orders we've got that's stricter than themagainst tramps. "

"Well, I don't care who he is, " said Mrs. Archibald, "or what your rulesare, but when a perfectly good-mannered man comes to us and asks simply tobe allowed to rest, I don't want him to be driven away as if he were astray pig on a lawn. Mr. Archibald, shouldn't he be allowed to rest awhile?"

Her husband rose and approached the stranger. "Where are you going, sir?"said he. 

The man looked at Matlack, at Martin, who stood behind him, and then atthe rest of the company, and after this comprehensive glance he smiled. 

"From present appearances, " he said, "I think I am going to go. "

Mr. Archibald laughed. "When do you expect to get there?" he asked. 

"It seems to me, " said the other, reflectively, "that I am always goingthere, and I suppose I shall have to keep on doing it. "

"Look here, " said Mr. Archibald, turning to Matlack, "give him somesupper, and let him rest. There will be time enough for him to get toSadler's after that. If Sadler has anything to say against it, refer himto me. "

"All right, sir, " said Matlack, "if you say so. I'm no harder on myfellow-bein's than other people, but rules is rules, and it isn't for meto break them. "

"My dear sir, " said the stranger to Mr. Archibald, "your words are moregrateful to me than the promise of food. I see that you consider me atramp, but it is a mistake. I am not a tramp. If you will allow me, afterI have eaten a little supper--a meal which I must admit I greatly need--Iwill explain to you how I happen to be here. " And with a bow he walkedtowards the table where Matlack and Martin had been eating their supper. 

"Do you know what I think he is?" said Mr. Clyde, when Mr. Archibald hadresumed his seat and his pipe. "I believe he is a wandering actor. Actorsalways have smoothly shaven faces, and he looks like one. "

"Actor!" exclaimed Arthur Raybold. "That's nonsense. He's not in the leastlike an actor. Anybody could see by his tread and his air that he's neverbeen on the stage. He's more like a travelling salesman. The next thinghe'll do will be to pull out of that bag some samples of spool thread orpatent thimbles. "

"You are both wrong, " said Margery--"entirely wrong. I have been lookingat him, and I believe he is a Methodist minister with a dead horse. Theyride circuits, and of course when their horses die they walk. Just wait alittle, and see if I am not right. "

They waited a little, and then they waited a little longer, and they hadbegun to be tired of waiting before the stranger finished his meal andapproached the fire. His face was brighter, his smile was more pleasant, and his step had a certain jauntiness in it. 

"I thank you all, " he said, "for the very good meal I have just enjoyed. Iam now going to go, but before I start I would like very much--indeed, Icrave it as a favor--to place myself before you in my proper light. May Ihave permission to do so, madam and sir?" he said, addressing Mrs. And Mr. Archibald, but with a respectful glance at the others, as if he would notignore any one of them. 

"Certainly, " said Mrs. Archibald. "Sit down and tell us about yourself. "

The stranger seated himself with alacrity a little back from the circle, and nearer to the young men than to the Archibald party. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE BISHOP'S TALE

The stranger placed his broad-brimmed hat on the ground beside him, exposing a large round head somewhat bald in front, but not from age, andthe rest of it covered with close-cut brown hair. His black clothes fittedhim very closely, their extreme tightness suggesting that they hadshrunken in the course of wearing, or that he had grown much plumper sincehe had come into possession of them; and their general worn and dullappearance gave considerable distance to the period of their firstpossession. But there was nothing worn or dull about the countenance ofthe man, upon which was an expression of mellow geniality which would havebeen suitably consequent upon a good dinner with plenty of wine. But hisonly beverage had been coffee, and in his clear bright eye there was notrace of any exhilaration, except that caused by the action of a heartymeal upon a good digestion and an optimistic disposition. 

"I am very glad, " he said, looking about him at the company, and thenglancing with a friendly air towards the two guides, who stood a littleback of Mr. Archibald, "to have this opportunity to explain my appearancehere. In the first place, I must tell you that I am a bishop whose diocesehas been inundated, and who consequently has been obliged to leave it. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Archibald; and Margery looked at Mr. Clyde, with theremark:

"There! You see I was very near to it. "

"I presume this statement will require some explanation, " continued theman in black, "and I will make it presently. I am going to be exceedinglyfrank and open in all that I say to you, and as frankness and openness areso extremely rare in this world, it may be that I shall obtain favor inyour eyes from the fact of my possessing those unusual qualities. Originally I was a teacher, and for a year or two I had a very goodcountry school; but my employment at last became so repugnant to me that Icould no longer endure it, and this repugnance was due entirely to myintense dislike for children. "

"That is not at all to your credit, " observed Mrs. Archibald; "and I donot see how you became a bishop, or why you should have been made one. "

"Was your diocese entirely meadow-land?" inquired Mr. Archibald. 

"I am coming to all that, " said the stranger, with a smile of politeconsideration towards Mrs. Archibald. "I know very well that it is not atall to my credit to dislike children, but I said I would be honest, and Iam. I do dislike them--not their bodies, but their minds. Children, considered physically, are often pleasant to the view, and eveninteresting as companions, providing their innate juvenility isundisturbed; but when their personalities are rudely thrown open by ateacher, and the innate juvenility prematurely exposed to the air, it issomething so clammy, so chilly to the mental marrow, that I shrink from itas I would shrink from the touch of any cold, clammy thing. "

"Horrible!" exclaimed Mrs. Archibald. 

"I am not sure, " observed Margery, "that there is not some truth in that. I had a Sunday-school class for a little while, and although I can't saythere was a clamminess, there was--well, I don't know what there was, butI gave it up. "

"I am glad, " said the man in black, "that my candor is not sinking me inthe estimation of every one present; but even if it did, I am obliged totell the truth. I do not know what would have become of me if I had nothad the good-fortune to catch the measles from a family with whom I wasspending Sunday in another town. As soon as the disease plainly showeditself upon me my school was broken up, and it was never gathered togetheragain, at least under me. 

"I must make my story brief, and can only say that not long after this Ifound myself in another town, where it became necessary for me to dosomething to support myself. This was difficult, for I am an indefiniteman, and definiteness seems necessary to success in any line. Happeningone day to pass a house with open lower windows, I heard the sound ofchildren's voices speaking in unison, and knowing that this must be aschool, I looked in, compelled entirely by that curiosity which oftenurges us to gaze upon human suffering. I found, however, that this was akindergarten conducted by a young woman. Unobserved by scholars orteacher, I watched the proceedings with great interest, and soon becameconvinced that kindergartening was a much less repellent system of tuitionthan any I had known; but I also perceived that the methods of the youngwoman could be greatly improved. I thought a good deal upon this subjectafter leaving the open window. Soon afterwards, becoming acquainted withthe young person in charge of the children, I offered to teach her a muchbetter system of kindergartening than she was using. My terms were verylow, and she became my scholar. I soon learned that there were otherkindergartens in the town, and some of the teachers of these joined myclass. Moreover, there were young women in the place who were notkindergartners, but who would like to become such, and these I alsotaught, sometimes visiting them at their houses, and sometimes giving mylessons in a room loaned by one of my patrons. My system became verypopular, because it was founded upon common-sense. "

"What was your system?" asked Mrs. Archibald. "I am interested inkindergartens myself. "

"My object, " he answered, "was to make the operation of teachinginteresting to the teacher. It struck me very forcibly that a continuanceof a few years in the present inane performances called kindergarteningwould infallibly send to our lunatic asylums a number of women, more orless young, with more or less depleted intellects. The various games andexercises I devised were very interesting, and I am sure I had scholarswho never intended to become kindergartners, and who studied with mesolely for their own advantage. It was at this time that I adopted theclerical dress as being more suitable to my vocation than any othercostume, and some one having called me the bishop, the name soon becamepopular, and I was generally known by it. "

"But what is your real name?" asked Mrs. Archibald. 

"Madam, " said the man, "you must excuse me if I ask you to recall yourquestion. I have a good name, and I belong to a very good family, butthere are reasons why I do not at present wish to avow that name. Some ofthese reasons are connected with the report that I purposely visited thefamily with the measles in order to get rid of my school; others areconnected with the inundation of my diocese, of which I shall speak;others refer to my present indefinite method of life. There is reason tosuppose that the time is not far distant when my resumption of my familyname will throw no discredit upon it, but that period has not yet arrived. Do you press your question, madam?"

"Oh no, " said Mrs. Archibald; "it really makes no difference; and out herein the woods a man may call himself a bishop or a cardinal or anything helikes. "

"Thank you very much, " said he, "and I will continue to speak in figures, and call myself a bishop. "

"Where I was brought up, " interpolated Phil Matlack, still standing behindMr. Archibald, "I was taught that figures don't lie. "

"My good sir, " said the speaker, with a smile, "in mathematics they don't, in poetry and literature they often do. Well, as I was saying, mydiocese extended itself, my revenues were satisfactory, and I hadbegun to believe that I had found my true work in life, when suddenlythere was a misfortune. There arrived in our town three apostles ofkindergartening--two of them were women, and one was a man. They had heardof my system, and had come to investigate it. They did so, with theresult that in an astonishingly short time my diocese was inundated with aflood of Froebelism which absolutely swept me away. With this bag, this umbrella, and this costume, which has now become my wardrobe, Iwas cast out in all my indefiniteness upon a definite world. "

"And how did you get here?" asked Mrs. Archibald. 

"I had heard of Sadler and his camps, " said he; "and in this beautifulmonth and in this beautiful weather I thought it would be well toinvestigate them. I accordingly went to Mr. Sadler's, where I arrivedyesterday afternoon. I found Mr. Sadler a very definite man, and, I amsorry to say, that as he immediately defined me as a tramp, he wouldlisten to no other definition. 'You have no money to pay for food andlodgings, ' said he, 'and you come under my tramp laws. I don't harbortramps, but I don't kick them out into the woods to starve. For labor onthis place I pay one dollar and a half a day of ten hours. For meals today-laborers I charge fifteen cents each. If you want your supper, you cango out to that wood-shed and split wood for one hour. ' I was very hungry;I went out into the wood-shed; I split wood for one hour, and at the endof that time I had a sufficient meal. When I had finished, Mr. Sadler sentfor me. 'Do you want to stay here all night?' he said. 'I do, ' I answered. 'Go, then, and split wood for another hour. ' I did so, and it was almostdark when I had finished. In the morning I split wood for my breakfast, and when I had finished I went to Mr. Sadler and asked him how much hewould charge for a luncheon wrapped in a piece of paper. 'Seven and a halfcents, ' he said. I split wood for half an hour, and left Sadler'sostensibly to return to the station by the way I had come; but while I hadbeen at work, I found from the conversation of some of the people that oneof the camps was occupied, and I also discovered in what direction it lay. Consequently, after I had passed out of the sight of the definite PeterSadler, I changed my course, and took a path through the woods which I wastold would lead to this road, and I came here because I might just as wellpass this way as any other, and because, having set out to investigatecamp life, I wished to do so, and I hope I may be allowed to say thatalthough I have seen but little of it, I like it very much. "

"Now, then, " said Phil Matlack, walking around the circle and approachingthe stranger, "you said, when you first came here, that you were going togo, and the time has come when you've got to go. "

"Very well, " said the other, looking up with a smile; "if I've got thereI'd better stop. "

Mr. Archibald and the young men laughed, but Matlack and Martin, who hadnow joined him, did not laugh. 

"You've barely time enough, " said the former, "to get to Sadler's beforeit is pitch-dark, and--"

"Excuse me, " said the other, "but I am not going back to Sadler'sto-night. I would rather have no bed than split wood for an hour afterdark in order to procure one. I would prefer a couch of dried leaves. "

"You come along into the road with this young man and me; I want to talkto you, " said Matlack. 

"Now, Matlack, " said Mr. Archibald, "don't be cruel. "

"I am not, " said the guide. "I am the tenderest-hearted person in theworld; but even if you say so, sir, I can't let a stranger stay all nightin a camp that I've got charge of. "

"Look here, Matlack, " exclaimed Mr. Clyde, "you haven't got charge of ourcamp!"

"No, I haven't, " said the other. 

"Well, then, this person can come over and stay with us. We have a littletent that we brought to put over the cooking-stove, and he can sleep inthat. "

"Very well, " said Matlack; "if you take him out of this camp I haven'tanything to say--that is, to-night. "

"My dear sir, " said the stranger, rising, and approaching Mr. Clyde, "Iaccept your offer with pleasure, and thank you most heartily for it. Ifyou had proffered me the hospitality of a palace, I could not be moregrateful. "

"All right, " said Clyde; "and I suppose it is time for us to be off, so Iwill bid you all good-night. Come along, Arthur. Come along, bishop. "

The face of the last-named individual beamed with delight as he heard thisappellation, and bidding everybody good-night, and thanking them for thekindness with which he had been treated, he followed the two young men. 

The three walked some little distance towards Camp Roy, and then Clydecame running back to speak to Margery, who was now standing by herselfwatching the young moon descend among the trees. Then Mr. Raybold alsostopped and came back to Margery, upon which the bishop stopped and waitedfor them. In about ten minutes he was joined by the two young men, and thethree proceeded to Camp Roy. 

"There is one thing, Harriet, " said Mr. Archibald, "which I wish you wouldspeak to Margery about. I don't want her to get up so early and go out fora morning walk. I find that those young men are also early risers. "

"I will speak to her, " said Mrs. Archibald; "where is she?"

"Over there, talking to young Martin, " said her husband. "It isn't quitedark yet, but I think it is time we were all in bed. "

"Quite time, " said she. "Margery tells me that that young guide, who is ahandsome fellow, is going to teach her how to fish with flies. I wish youwould sometimes take her out in the boat with you, Mr. Archibald; I amsure that you could teach her how to fish. "

He smiled. "I suppose I could, " he said; "and I also suppose I could pullher out of the water the first time she hooked a big fish. It would belike resting a boat on a pivot to put her into it. "

"Then you don't take her, " said Mrs. Archibald, decisively. "And you can'ttake her with you up the stream, because, of course, she can't wade. Idon't want her to get tired of camp-life, but--"

"Don't be afraid of the young men, " interrupted her husband, with a laugh;"so long as there are three of them there is no danger. "

"Of course I will not, if you don't wish it, Aunt Harriet, " said Margery, when Mrs. Archibald had spoken to her about the early morning walks; "andI will stay in my room until you call me. "

The next morning, when Mrs. Archibald was ready to leave the cabin, shedid call Margery, but received no answer. Then she went to the littlestudio-room, and when she opened the door she found its occupant leaningout of the window talking to Mr. Clyde and Mr. Raybold, who stoodoutside. 

"Good-morning, Aunt Harriet!" exclaimed Margery, gayly. "Mr. Clyde hasbrought me nearly an armful of birch-bark, all thin and smooth. I am goingto make a birch-bark bedspread out of it. I'll cover a sheet with thesepieces, you see, and sew them on. Then I can have autographs on them, andmottoes, and when I cover myself up with it I shall really feel like adryad. "

"And here is what I have brought, " said Mr. Raybold, holding up an armfulof bark. 

"Oh, thank you very much, " said Margery, taking the mass, but not withoutdropping a good many of the pieces. "Of course it was kind of him to bringit, " she said to Mrs. Archibald, as they left the room together, "but heneedn't have bothered himself: I don't want to sleep under a wood-pile. "

CHAPTER IX

MATLACK'S THREE TROUBLES

"Have you asked those two young men to breakfast again?" inquired Mr. Archibald, after examining, with a moderate interest, the specimen ofbirch-bark which Margery had shown him. 

"Oh no, indeed, " said she, "they have had their breakfast. They have beentelling me about it. The bishop got up very early in the morning andcooked it for them. He's a splendid cook, and he found things in theirhampers that they didn't know they had. They said his coffee wasdelicious, and they have left him there in their camp now, washing thedishes and putting everything in order. And do you think, Uncle Archibald, that it is going to rain?"

"I do, " said he, "for it is sprinkling already. "

This proved to be the first bad day since the Archibald party had goneinto camp, and the rain soon began to come down in a steady, practisedway, as if the clouds above were used to that sort of thing and couldeasily keep it up all day. 

As there was no place under roof to which company could be convenientlyinvited, Margery retired to her room and set herself diligently to work onher birch-bark quilt. 

Mrs. Archibald established herself in the division of the cabin which wasintended to be used as a sitting and dining room in bad weather, andapplied herself to some sewing and darning, which had been reserved forjust such a day as this. Mr. Archibald, in a water-proof suit, triedfishing for half an hour or so, but finding it both unpleasant andunprofitable, he joined his wife, made himself as comfortable as possibleon two chairs, and began to read aloud one of the novels they had broughtwith them. 

Mr. Clyde and Mr. Raybold had considerately gone to their own camp when itbegan to rain, hoping, however, that the shower would be over in a shorttime. But the rain was not a shower, and they spent the morning on theirbacks in their tent, talking and smoking. Of course they could not expectthe bishop to depart in the rain, so they had told him to make himself ascomfortable as he could in the little kitchen tent, and offered him a pipeand a book. The first he declined, as he never smoked, but the latter heaccepted with delight. 

After the mid-day dinner Phil Matlack, in a pair of high hunting-boots andan oil-skin coat, came to Mr. Archibald and said that as there was nothinghe could do that afternoon, he would walk over to Sadler's and attend tosome business he had there. 

"About the bishop?" asked Mr. Archibald. 

"Partly, " said Matlack. "I understand the fellow is still over there withthose two young men. I don't suppose they'll send him off in the rain, andas he isn't in my camp, I can't interfere. But it may rain for two orthree days. "

"All right, " said Mr. Archibald, "and if we want anything we'll askMartin. "

"Just so, " said Matlack. "If there's anything to do that you don't want todo yourself, you can get him to do it; but if you want to know anythingyou don't know yourself, you'd better wait until I come back. "

When Matlack presented himself before Peter Sadler he found that ponderousindividual seated in his rolling-chair near the open door, enjoying thesmell of the rain. 

"Hello, Phil!" he cried. "What's wrong at the camp?"

The guide left his wet coat and cap on the little piazza outside, andafter carefully wiping his feet, seated himself on a chair near the door. 

"There's three things wrong, " said he. "In the first place, there's atramp out there, and it looks to me as if he was a-goin' to stick, if hecan get allowed to do it. "

"Is he too big for you to bounce?" roared Peter. "That's a pretty story tocome tell me!"

"No, he ain't, " said the other; "but I haven't got the bouncin' of him. He's not in my camp. The young men have took him in; but I expect he'llcome over with them as soon as it's done rainin', for when that happensthey're bound to come themselves. "

"Look here, Phil, " said Peter, "is he dressed in black?"

"Yes, he is, " said the guide. 

Mr. Sadler slapped his hand on the arm of his chair. "Phil Matlack, " heshouted, "that's my favorite tramp. I never had a man here who paid hisbill in work as he did. It was cash down, and good money. Not a minute ofwood-splitting more or less than the market-price for meals and bed. I'dlike to have a tramp like that come along about twice a week. But I tellyou, Phil, he ain't no tramp. Couldn't you see that? None of them loafersever worked as he did. "

"He may not be a tramp, " said Matlack, "but he's trampin'. What are yougoin' to do about him? Let him stay there?"

"What's he doin' now?" asked Sadler. 

"He's cookin' for those two young men. "

"Well, they need some one to do it for them, and they didn't want to go tothe expense of a guide. Let the parson alone for a day or two, and if hedoes anything out of the way just you take him by one ear and Martin takehim by the other and bring him to me. I'll attend to him. What's the nexttrouble?"

"That's out of my camp, too, " said Matlack, "but I'm bound to report it. The bicycle fellow that you hired a gun to don't know the fust thing aboutusin' it, and the next thing you'll hear will be that he's shot hispardner, who's worth six of him. "

Mr. Sadler sat up very straight in his chair and stared at the guide. "Phil Matlack, " he shouted, "what do you take me for? I hired that gun tothat young man. Don't you suppose I know what I'm about?"

"That's all right, " said Matlack, "but the trouble is he don't know whathe's about. "

"Get away man, " said Peter, with a contemptuous sniff, "he'll never hurtanybody. What do you take me for? When he came to me and wanted a gun, Ihanded him two or three, so that he might choose one that suited him, andby the way he handled them I could see that most likely he'd never handledone before, and so I set him up all right. He's got a good gun, and allthe cartridges he'll be likely to want; and the cartridges are all likethis. They're a new kind I heard of last winter, and I got a case fromBoston last week. I don't see how I ever managed to run my camps withoutthem. Do you see that shot?" said he, opening one end of a cartridge. "Well, take one in your hand and pinch it. "

Phil did so, and it crumbled to dust in his hand. 

"When that load's fired, " said Peter, "all the shot will crumble intodust. It wouldn't do to give raw hands blank-cartridges, because they'dfind that out; but with this kind they might sit all day and fire at ababy asleep in its cradle and never disturb it, provided the baby wasdeaf. And he can't use his pardner's cartridges, for I gave that fellow atwelve-bore gun and his is a ten-bore. "

Phil grinned. "Well, then, " said he, "I suppose I might as well make mymind easy, but if that bicycle man hunts much he'll get the convictionborne in on him that he's a dreadful bad shot. "

"Then he'll give up shooting, which is what is wanted, " said Sadler. "What's your third bother?"

"That young woman has made up her mind to go out in the boat by herselfthe very fust time she feels like it, " said Matlack; "she didn't say sowith her mouth, but she said it with the back of her head and hershoulders, and I want to know if that rule of yours is going to hold goodthis summer. Women is gettin' to do so many things they didn't use to thatI didn't know but what you'd consider they'd got far enough to takethemselves out on the lake, and if you do think so, I don't want to getmyself in hot water with those people and then find you don't back meup. "

"If you don't want to get yourself into hot water with me, Phil Matlack, you'd better get it into your head just as soon as you can that when Imake a rule it's a rule, and I don't want people comin' to me and talkin'about changes. Women in my camp don't go out in boats by themselves, andit's easy enough to have that rule kept if you've got backbone enough todo it. Keep the boat locked to the shore when it ain't in use, and put thekey in your pocket, and if anybody gets it that 'ain't any right to it, that's your lookout. Now that's the end of your troubles, I hope. How'sthings goin' on generally in the camp?"

"Oh, well enough, " said Matlack. "I thought at fust the old lady'd giveout in a day or two, but I've taught her parlor-fishin', which she's tookto quite lively, and she's got used to the woods. The boss, he sticks tofishin', as if it was office-work, and as for the rest of them, I guessthey're all gettin' more and more willin' to stay. "

"Why?" asked Peter. 

"Well, one of them is a gal and the others isn't, " replied Matlack, "that's about the p'int of it. "

During Matlack's walk back the skies cleared, and when he reached the camphe found Mrs. Archibald seated in her chair near the edge of the lake, adry board under her feet, and the bishop standing by her, putting bait onher hook, and taking the fish off of it when any happened to be there. Outin the boat sat Mr. Archibald, trusting that some fish might approach thesurface in search of insects disabled by the rain. Farther on, at a placeby the water's edge that was clear of bushes and undergrowth, Martin wasgiving Miss Dearborn a lesson in fly-fishing. 

"He's a mighty good fisherman, " thought Matlack, looking at the youngfellow as he brought his rod back from the water with a long gracefulsweep, and then, with another sweep and an easy inclination of his bodyforward, sending the fly far out on the smooth surface of the lake, "although there ain't no need to tell him so; and I don't wonder she'drather stand and watch him than try to do it herself. "

Walking up and down near the edge of the wood were Messrs. Clyde andRaybold. 

Phil smiled. "They don't seem to be happy, " he said to himself. "I guessthey're hankerin' to take a share in her edication; but if you don't knownothin' yourself, you can't edicate other people. "

Matlack directed his steps towards Mrs. Archibald; but before he reachedher he was met by the bishop, who hurried towards him. 

"I shall be obliged to surrender my post to you, " he said, "which will begreatly to the lady's satisfaction, I imagine, for I must appear a poorattendant after you. "

[Illustration: "A LESSON IN FLY-FISHING"]

"Goin' to leave us?" said Matlack. "You look quite spruced up. "

The bishop smiled. "You allude, I suppose, " said he, "to the fact that myhat and clothes are brushed, and that I am freshly shaved and have on aclean collar. I like to be as neat as I can. This is a gutta-perchacollar, and I can wash it whenever I please with a bit of damp rag, and itis my custom to shave every day, if I possibly can. But as to leaving you, I shall not do so this evening. I have promised those young gentlemen whoso kindly invited me to their camp that I would prepare their supper forthem, and I must now go to make the fire and get things in readiness. "

"Have they engaged you as cook and general help?" asked Matlack. 

"Oh no, " said the bishop, with a smile, "they are kind and I am grateful, that is all. "

CHAPTER X

A LADIES' DAY IN CAMP

Two days after the rainy day in camp Mr. Archibald determined to take thedirection of affairs into his own hands, so far as he should be able. Having no authority over the two young men at Camp Roy, he had hithertocontented himself with a disapproval of their methods of employing theirtime, which he communicated only to his wife. But now he considered that, as they were spending so much of their time in his camp and so little intheir own, he would take charge of them exactly as if they belonged to hisparty. He would put an end, if possible, to the aimless strolls up anddown the beach with Margery, and the long conversations of which thatyoung woman had grown to be so fond, held sometimes with both young men, though more frequently with one. If Clyde and Raybold came into the woodsto lounge in the shade and talk to a girl, they must go to some other campto do it. But if they really cared to range the forest, either assportsmen or lovers of nature, he would do his best to help them; so thisday he organized an expedition to a low mountain about two miles away, taking Matlack with him as guide, and inviting the two young men to joinhim. They had assented because no good reason for declining had presenteditself, and because Phil Matlack earnestly urged them to come along andlet him show them what a real forest tramp was like. Before his recenttalk with Peter Sadler, Phil would not have dared to go out into the woodsin company with the bicycle man. 

The two ladies were perfectly willing to remain in camp under the chargeof Martin, who was capable of defending them against any possible danger;and as the bishop had agreed to take charge of Camp Roy during the absenceof its occupants, Mr. Archibald planned for a whole day's tramp, the firsthe had taken since they went into camp. 

When Martin's morning work was done he approached the shady spot where thetwo ladies had established themselves, and offered to continue his lessonsin fish-flying if Miss Dearborn so desired. But Miss Dearborn did not wishto take any lessons to-day. She would rest and stay with Mrs. Archibald. Even the elder lady did not care to fish that morning. The day was hot andthe shade was grateful. 

Martin walked away dissatisfied. In his opinion, there had never been aday more suitable for angling; this was a day which would be free frominterruptions, either from two young fellows who knew nothing about realgame-fishing, or from Matlack, who always called him away to do somethingwhen he was most interested in his piscatorial pedagogics. This was a daywhen he could stand by that lovely girl, give her the rod, show her how toraise it, wave it, and throw it, and sometimes even touch her hand as hetook it from her or gave it back, watching her all the time with anadmiration and delight which no speckled trout or gamy black bass had everyet aroused in him, and all this without fear that a gentleman out on thelake might possibly be observing them with the idea that he was moreinterested in his work than the ordinary guide might be supposed to be. But luck was against him, and Martin, who did not in the least considerhimself an ordinary guide, walked up and down in moody reflection, orgrimly threw himself upon the ground, gazing upward at the sky--not halfso blue as he was--but never walking or resting so far away that he couldnot hear the first cry from her should snake, bear, dragon-fly, or dangerof any kind approach her. 

To the ladies, about half an hour later, came the bishop, who, newlyshaved and brushed, wished them good-morning, and offered his services inany manner which might be desired. If Mrs. Archibald wished to fish by theside of the lake, he was at her service; but Mrs. Archibald did not careto fish. 

"This is a most charming day, " said the bishop, removing his hat, "but Isuppose it is more charming to me because it is my last day here. "

"And so you are really going to go?" said Mrs. Archibald, smiling. 

"I suppose you think I am not likely to get there, " said he, "but really Ihave stayed here long enough, and for several reasons. "

"Sit down, " said Margery, "and tell us what they are. There is a nicelittle rock with some moss on it. "

The bishop promptly accepted the invitation and seated himself. As he didso, Martin, at a little distance, scowled, folded his arms, and slightlyincreased the length of his sentinel-like walk. 

"Yes, " said the bishop, brushing some pine leaves from his threadbaretrousers, "during the time that I have accepted the hospitality of thoseyoung gentlemen I feel that I have in a great measure repaid them fortheir kindness, but now I see that I shall become a burden and an expenseto them. In the first place, I eat a great deal more than both of them puttogether, so that the provisions they brought with them will be exhaustedmuch sooner than they expected. I am also of the opinion that they aregetting tired of eating in their own camp, but as I make a point ofpreparing the meals at stated hours, of course they feel obliged topartake of them. "

"By which you mean, I suppose, " said Mrs. Archibald, "that if they had notyou to cook for them they would be apt to take a good many meals with us, as they did when they first came, and which would be cheaper andpleasanter. "

"I beg, madam, " said the bishop, quickly, "that you will not think thatthey have said anything of the sort. I simply inferred, from remarks Ihave heard, that one of them, at least, is very much of the opinion youhave just stated; therefore I feel that I cannot be welcome much longer inCamp Roy. There is also another reason why I should go now. I have abusiness prospect before me. "

"I am glad to hear that, " said Mrs. Archibald. "Is it a good one?"

"I think it is, " said the bishop. "I have been considering it earnestly, and the more I fix my mind upon it the greater appear its advantages. Idon't mind in the least telling you what it is. A gentleman who isacquainted with my family and whom I have met two or three times, but notrecently, possesses a very fine estate some thirty miles south of thisplace. He has been in Europe for some time, but is expected to return tohis country mansion about the end of this week. It is my purpose to offermyself to him in the capacity of private librarian. I do not think it willbe difficult to convince him that I have many qualifications for thesituation. "

"Has he so many books that he needs a librarian?" asked Margery. 

"No, " said the bishop, "I have no reason to suppose that he has any morebooks than the ordinary country gentleman possesses, but he ought to have. He has a very large income, and is now engaged in establishing for hisfamily what is intended to become, in time, an ancestral mansion. It isobvious to any one of intelligence that such a grand mansion would not becomplete without a well-selected library, and that such a library couldnot be selected or arranged by an ordinary man of affairs. Consequently, unless he has a competent person to perform this duty for him, hislibrary, for a long time, will be insignificant. When I shall put thequestion before him, I have no doubt that he will see and appreciate theforce and value of my statements. Such a position will suit me admirably. I shall ask but little salary, but it will give me something far betterthan money--an opportunity to select from the book marts of the wholeworld the literature in which I delight. Consequently, you will see thatit is highly desirable that I should be on hand when this gentlemanarrives upon his estate. "

With a look of gentle pity Mrs. Archibald gazed at the smooth round faceof the bishop, flushed with the delights of anticipation and brightened bythe cheery smile which nearly always accompanied his remarks. "And is thatyour only prospect?" she said. "I don't want to discourage you, but itseems to me that if you had some regular business--and you are not too oldto learn something of the sort--it would be far better for you than tryingto obtain the mythical position you speak of. I see that you are a man ofintelligence and education, and I believe that you would succeed in almostany calling to which you would apply yourself with earnestness andindustry. You must excuse me for speaking so plainly, but I am much olderthan you are and I do it for your good. "

"Madam, " exclaimed the bishop, radiant with grateful emotion, "I thank youfrom the bottom of my heart for what you have said. I thank you for yourappreciation of me and for the generous motive of your words, but, to befrank with you, I am not suited to a calling such as you have mentioned. Ihave many qualities which I well know would promote my fortunes were theyproperly applied, but that application is difficult, for the reason thatmy principal mental characteristic is indefiniteness. When but a littlechild I was indefinite. Nobody knew what I was going to do, or how I wouldturn out; no one has since known, and no one knows now. In whatever way Ihave turned my attention in my endeavors to support myself, I have beenobstructed and even appalled by the definiteness of the ordinary pursuitsof life. Now the making of a private library is in itself an indefiniteoccupation. It has not its lines, its rules, its limitations. But do notthink, kind lady, that I shall always depend upon such employment. ShouldI obtain it, I should hold it only so long as it would be necessary, andit may be necessary for but a little while. Do you care to hear of mypermanent prospects?" said he, looking from one lady to the other. 

"Certainly, " said Margery, "we would like to hear all you have to tell. "

"Well then, " said the bishop, folding his arms and smiling effusively, butwith a gentle curbing of his ordinary cheerfulness, "I will inform youthat I have an uncle who is a man of wealth and well on in years. Unfortunately, or fortunately it may be, this uncle greatly dislikes me. He objects so strongly to my methods of thought and action, and even to myphysical presence, that he cannot bear to hear me speak or even to look atme, and the last time I was in his company, about four years ago, he toldme that he would leave me a legacy on condition that he should never hearfrom me or see me again. He promised to make the proper provision in hiswill immediately, but declared, and I know he will keep his word, that ifhe ever received a letter from me or even saw me or heard my voice hewould instantly strike out that clause. I appreciated and respected hisfeelings, and accepted the condition. From that moment I have not writtento him, nor shall I ever write to him, and I shall never go near him solong as he is alive. As I said, he is of advanced age, and it isimpossible that he can long survive. When his demise takes place mycircumstances will, I believe, be satisfactory. "

"Did your uncle say how much he would leave you?" asked Mrs. Archibald. 

"No, madam, " returned the other, "he did not, but I feel sure that the sumwill be measured by his satisfaction in knowing that his existence isentirely freed from me. "

"Really, " said Mrs. Archibald, "there is nothing about you so indefiniteas your prospects. "

"And it seems horrible to me, " said Margery, "to be hoping that some onemay die in order that you may be better off, for, as you want money somuch, you must hope that your uncle will die. "

The bishop smiled and rose. "And now, " said he, "I suppose I must go toprepare the dinner at Camp Roy. There is nobody but myself to eat it, butI have assumed the duty, and it must be performed. Good-morning. By yourleave, I shall look in upon you again. "

Mrs. Archibald had a mind to ask him to stay and dine with them, buthaving noticed an unfriendly expression on the face of Martin when hisgloomy walk brought him in her direction, she thought it would not be wiseto do so. 

CHAPTER XI

MARGERY TAKES THE OARS

After dinner Mrs. Archibald prepared herself for a nap, the mostdelightful thing she could think of during the warm hours of such a day. Margery, after seeing the elder lady comfortably disposed in the shadysitting-room of the cabin, went out-of-doors with no doubt in her mind asto what would be for her the most delightful thing to do. She would take arow on the lake all by herself. 

She went down to the boat, which was partly drawn up on the beach andfastened to a heavy stake. But when she reached it she was disgusted tofind that the chain was secured to the stake by a padlock. The oars werein the boat, and she could easily have pushed it into the water, but shecould not set it free without the key to the padlock. 

"I do believe, " she exclaimed, "that the will of that horrid Mr. Sadler islike gas. It goes everywhere, even to the tops of the houses and under thebeds. " But she did not give up her intention. She tried to detach thechain from the boat, but finding this impossible, she thought of going forMartin. Perhaps he might have a key. This idea, however, she quickly putaside. If he had a key, and gave it to her, she might get him intotrouble, and, besides, she did not believe that he would let her go alone, and in any other way she did not wish to go. Standing with her prettybrows knit, and one heel deep in the soft ground into which she hadstamped it, she heard approaching footsteps, and turning, saw the bishop. He came forward with a buoyant step. 

"Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Dearborn?" he said. "Do you wishto go out on the lake? Do you want some one to row you?"

"Yes and no, " said Margery. "I want to go out in the boat, and I don'twant anybody to row me. But that chain is fastened with an abominablepadlock, and I cannot launch the boat. "

"One of your guides is here, " said he. "Perhaps I can get a key fromhim. "

"No, no, " said Margery, quickly; "he must not know about it. There is aSadler law against it, and he is employed by Sadler. "

"It is very securely fastened, " said the bishop, examining the lock andchain. "It is the work of the guide Matlack, I have no doubt. But, MissDearborn, " said he, with a bright smile, "there is a boat at Camp Roy. That is not locked, and I can bring it here in twenty minutes. "

"No, " said Margery; "I don't want that boat. I've seen it. It is a clumsyold thing, and, besides, it leaks. I want this one. This is just the kindof boat I want to row. It is too bad! If I could get off now there wouldbe nobody to hinder me, for Martin is washing the dinner dishes, or doingsomething of that kind, and whenever he does house-work he always keepshimself out of sight. "

The bishop examined the stake. It was a stout little tree trunk drivendeep into the ground and projecting about five feet above the surface, with the chain so wrapped around it that it was impossible to force it upor down. Seizing the stake near the top, the bishop began to push itbackward and forward, and being a man of great strength, he soon loosenedit so much that, stooping, he was able to pull it from the ground. 

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Margery. "It came up just like pulling a tooth. "

"Yes, " said the radiant bishop, "the good Matlack may be very carefulabout fastening a boat, but I think I have got the better of him thistime; and now I will put the stake, chain and all, in the bow. That is thebest way of disposing of them. Are you sure that you prefer going alone? Ishall be delighted to row you if you wish me to. "

"Oh no, " said Margery; "I am just wild to row myself, and I want to hurryand get off for fear Martin will be coming down here. "

"Are you sure you understand rowing and the management of a boat?" heasked. 

"Oh yes, " she replied, "I can row; of course I can. I will get in, andthen you can push off the boat. "

"Allow me, " said the bishop. But before he could reach her to help her, Margery stepped quickly into the boat and was about to seat herself. 

"If you will take the seat next to the stern, " said the bishop, holdingthe boat so that it would be steady, "I think that will be better. Thenthe weight of the stake in the bow will put the boat on an even keel. "

"All right, " said Margery, accepting his suggestion and seating herself. "Now just wait until I get the oars into the rowlocks, and then you canpush me off. "

"Which way do you intend to row?" asked the bishop. 

"Oh, I shall go down towards the lower end of the lake, because that waythere are more bushes along the banks and Martin will be less apt to seeme. If I go the other way I will be in plain sight of the camp, and he maythink he ought to do something--fire a gun across my bows to bring me to, maybe, as they do at sea. "

"Hardly, " said the bishop, "but let me advise you not to go very far fromthe shore, so that if you feel tired you can come in easily, and if youwill allow me I will walk down the shore in the direction in which youintend to row. "

"Oh, I am not going to get tired, " said she. "I could row all day. It issplendid to be in a boat all by myself and have the whole management ofit. Now please push me off. "

With some reluctance, but with a sincere desire to make the young girlhappy, which could not be overcome by prudence--at least by such prudenceas he possessed--the bishop, with a strong, steady push, sent the boatwell out on the surface of the water. 

"That was beautifully done, " Margery called back to him. "Now I have roomenough to turn around without any trouble at all. "

She turned the boat about with its bow towards the lower end of the lake, but it was not done without trouble. "I have not rowed for a good while, "she said, "but I am getting used to the oars already. Now then, I'm off, "and she began to pull with a strength which, had it been suitably pairedwith skill, would have made her an excellent amateur oarswoman. But theplace of skill was supplied by enthusiasm and determination. Once or twicean oar slipped from the rowlock and she nearly went over backward, andseveral times one of the blades got under the water with the flat side up, so that she had difficulty in getting it out. She raised her oars much toohigh in the air, but she counterbalanced this by sinking them very deepinto the water. But she got on, and although her course was somewhatirregular, its general trend was in the direction desired. 

The bishop walked along the bank, keeping as near to the water as hecould. Sometimes masses of shrubbery shut off all view of the lake, andthen there would be an open space where he would stop and watch the boat. 

"Please keep near the shore, Miss Dearborn, " he called, "that will bebetter, I think, and it is certainly more shady and pleasant than fartherout. "

"I know what you mean, " cried Margery, pulling away in high good-humor, "you think it is safer near the shore; but I am not going to row very farthis time, and after a little while I may pull the boat in and rest for atime before starting back, " and then she rowed on with renewed energy. 

The next time the bishop was able to hail the boat, it was at a pointwhere he was obliged to push his way through the bushes in order to seeout upon the lake. 

"Miss Dearborn, " he called, "I think you are a great deal too far fromshore, and you must be getting very tired and hot. Your face is greatlyflushed. I will hurry along and see if I can find a good place for you tostop and cool yourself. "

"I am all right, " cried Margery, resting on her oars. "I get along verywell, only the boat doesn't steer properly. I think it is because of theweight of that stick in the bow. I suppose I cannot get rid of it?"

"Oh no!" cried the bishop, in alarm; "please don't think of it! But if youtouch shore at the first open space, I think I can arrange it better foryou. "

"Very good, " said she; "you go ahead and find such a place, and I willcome in. "

"If you touch shore, " said the bishop to himself, "you don't go out againin that boat alone! You don't know how to row at all. "

The bishop ran a hundred yards or more before he found a place at which aboat could be beached. It was not a very good place, but if he could reachout and seize the bow, that would be enough for him. He was strong enoughto pull that boat over a paved street. 

As he looked out over the water he saw that Margery had progressedconsiderably since he had seen her last, but she was still farther fromshore than before. 

"Row straight towards me!" he shouted. "Here is a fine landing-place, cooland shady. "

She looked around and managed to turn the boat's head in his direction. Then she rowed hard, pulling and splashing, and evidently a little tired. She was strong, but this unusual exercise was a trial to her muscles. Perhaps, too, she felt that the bishop was watching her, and that made hera little nervous, for she could not help being aware that she was nothandling the oars as well as when she started out. With a strong pull ather right oar to turn the boat inland, she got her left oar tangledbetween the water and the boat, so it seemed to her, and lost her hold ofit. In a moment it was overboard and floating on the lake. 

Leaning over the side of the boat, she made a grasp at the oar, but it wastoo far for her to reach it; and then, by a spasmodic movement of theother oar, the distance was increased. 

The bishop's face grew pale. As he looked at her he saw that she wasmoving away from the floating oar, and now he understood why she hadprogressed so well. There was a considerable current in the lake which hadcarried her along, and was now moving the heavy boat much faster than itmoved the oar. What should he tell her to do? If she could put her singleoar out at the stern, she might scull the boat; but he was sure she didnot understand sculling, and to try it she would have to stand up, andthis would be madness. 

She now took the other oar from the rowlock, and was about to rise, whenthe bishop shouted to her. 

"What are you going to do?" he cried. 

"I am going to the stern, " she said, "to see if I cannot reach that oarwith this one. Perhaps I can pull it in. "

"For Heaven's sake, don't do that!" he cried. "Don't stand up, or the boatwill tip, and you will fall overboard. "

"But what can I do?" she called back. "I can't row with one oar. "

"Try rowing a little on one side, and then on the other, " said he. "Perhaps you can bring in the boat in that way. "

She followed his suggestion, but very awkwardly, and he saw plainly thatshe was tired. Instead of approaching the shore, the boat continued tofloat down the lake. 

Margery turned again. "Bishop, " she cried, "what shall I do? I must dosomething, or I can't get ashore at all. "

She did not look frightened; there was more of annoyance in herexpression, as if she thought it impertinent in fate to treat her in thisway, and she would not stand it. 

"If I had thought of the current, " said the bishop to himself, "I wouldnever have let her go out alone, and she can't be trusted in that boatanother minute longer. She will do something desperate. " So saying, thebishop took off his hat and threw it on the ground. Then he unbuttoned hiscoat and began to take it off, but he suddenly changed his mind. Even inthat wilderness and under these circumstances he must appear respectable, so he buttoned his coat again, hastily took off his shoes, and, withouthesitating, walked into the water until it was above his waist, and thencalling to Margery that he was coming to her, he began to swim out intothe lake. He did not strike out immediately for the boat, but directed hiscourse towards the floating oar. Turning his head frequently towardsMargery, he could see that she was sitting perfectly still, watching him, and so he kept on with a good heart. 

The bishop was a powerful swimmer, but he found great difficulty in makinghis way through the water, on account of the extreme tightness of hisclothes. It seemed to him that his arms and legs were bandaged in splints, as if he had been under a surgeon's care; but still he struck out as wellas he could, and in time reached the oar. Pushing this before him to theboat, Margery took hold of it. 

"You swim splendidly, " said she. "You can climb in right here. "

But the bishop knew better than that, and worked his way round to thestern, and after holding on a little while to get his breath, he managedto clamber into the boat. 

"Was the water very cold?" said she. 

On his replying that it was, she said she thought so because he seemedstiff. 

"Now, Miss Dearborn, " said he, "I have made the stern seat very wet, but Idon't believe you will mind that, and if you will sit here I will take theoars and row you in. "

[Illustration: "BUT THE BISHOP KNEW BETTER"]

"Oh, I think I can do that myself, " said Margery. "I am rested now, and Iam ever so much obliged to you for getting my oar for me. "

Under almost any circumstances the bishop could smile, and now he smiledat the ridiculousness of the idea of Margery's rowing that boat backagainst the current, and with him in it. 

"Indeed, " said he, "I must insist. I shall freeze to death if I don't warmmyself by exercise. " So, reaching out his hand, he assisted Margery to thestern, and seating himself in her place, he took the oars, which she haddrawn in. 

"I don't see why I could not make the boat go along that way, " said she, as they began to move steadily towards the camp. "I believe I could do itif people would only let me practise by myself; but they always want toshow me how, and I hate to have anybody show me how. It is funny, " shecontinued, "that you seem so very wet all but your collar. That looks assmooth and nice as if it had just come from the laundry. "

The bishop laughed. "That is because it is gutta-percha, " he said, "intended for rough use in camp; but the rest of my habiliments were notintended for wet weather. "

"And you have no hat, " said she. "Doesn't the sun hurt your head?"

"My head does feel a little warm, " said he, "but I didn't want to row backto the place where I left my hat. It was not a good landing-place, afterall. Besides, " he said to himself, "I never thought of my hat or myshoes. "

CHAPTER XII

THE BISHOP ENGAGES THE ATTENTION OF THE GUIDES

When the boat touched the shore Margery ran to the cabin to assure Mrs. Archibald of her safety, if she had been missed. 

The bishop was sticking the stake in the hole from which he had pulled it, when Martin came running to him. 

"That's a pretty piece of business!" cried the young man. "If you wantedto go out in the boat, why didn't you come to me for the key? You've gotno right to pull up the stakes we've driven down. That's the same thing asstealing the boat. What's the matter? Did you tumble overboard? You mustbe a pretty sort of an oarsman! If the ladies want to go out in the boat, I am here to take them. I'd like you to understand that. "

As has been said before, the bishop could smile under almost anycircumstances, and he smiled now, but at the same time his brow wrinkled, which was not common when he smiled. 

"I am going down to the shore to get my hat and shoes, " he said, "and Iwould like you to come along with me. I can't stand here and talk toyou. "

"What do you want?" said Martin. 

"Come along and see, " said the bishop; "that is, if you are not afraid. "

That was enough, and the young man walked behind him until they reachedthe spot where the bishop had taken to the water. Then he stopped, andexplained to Martin all that had happened. 

"Now, " said he, "what have you got to say?"

Martin, now that he knew that the bishop had plunged into the water forthe sake of the beautiful Margery, was more jealously angry than when hehad supposed he had merely taken her out to row. 

"I haven't anything to say, " he answered, shortly, "except that parsonshad better attend to their own business, if they have any, and let youngladies and boats alone. "

"Oh, that's all, is it?" said the bishop, and with a quick step forward heclutched the young man's arm with his right hand, while he seized his beltwith the other, and then with a great heave sent him out into the waterfully ten feet from the shore. With a splash like a dropped anchor Martindisappeared from view, but soon arose, his head and shoulders above thesurface, where he stood for a moment, spluttering and winking and almostdazed. 

The bishop stood on the bank and smiled. "Did you fall overboard?" saidhe. "You must be a pretty sort of a boatman!"

Without replying, Martin began to wade ashore. 

"Come on, " said the bishop; "if you can't get up the bank, I'll helpyou. "

But Martin needed no help; he scrambled to the bank, shook himself, andthen advanced upon the bishop, fire in his eye and his fist clinched. 

"Stop, young man, " said the other. "It would not be fair to you if I didnot tell you that I am a boxer and a heavy-weight, and that I threw youinto the water because I didn't want to damage your face and eyes. Youwere impertinent, but I am satisfied, and the best thing you can do is togo and change your clothes before any one sees you in that plight. You arebetter off than I am, because I have no clothes with which to make achange. " So saying, he sat down and began to put on his shoes. 

Martin stood for a moment and looked at the bishop, he thought of Margeryand a possible black eye, and then he walked as fast as he could to histent to get some dry clothes. He was very wet, he was very hot, he wasvery angry, and what made him more angry than anything else was a respectfor the bishop which was rising in him in spite of all his efforts to keepit down. 

When Mr. Archibald and his party came back to camp late in the afternoon, Margery, who had already told her story to Mrs. Archibald, told it to eachof the others. Mr. Archibald was greatly moved by the account of thebishop's bravery. He thoroughly appreciated the danger to which Margeryhad been exposed. There were doubtless persons who could be trusted so sitquietly in a little boat with only one oar, and to float upon a lake outof sight and sound of human beings until another boat could be secured andbrought to the rescue, but Margery was not one of these persons. Hergreatest danger had been that she was a child of impulse. He wentimmediately to Camp Roy to see the bishop and express his gratitude, forno matter how great the foolish good-nature of the man had been, his braverescue of the girl was all that could be thought of now. 

[Illustration: "WITH A GREAT HEAVE SENT HIM OUT INTO THE WATER"]

He found the bishop in bed, Mr. Clyde preparing the supper, and Mr. Raybold in a very bad humor. 

"It's the best place for me, " said the bishop, gayly, from under a heavyarmy blanket. "My bed is something like the carpets in Queen Elizabeth'stime, and this shelter-tent is not one which can be called commodious, butI shall stay here until morning, and then I am sure I shall be none theworse for my dip into the cold lake. "

As Mr. Archibald had seen the black garments of the bishop hanging on abush as he approached the tent, he was not surprised to find their ownerin bed. 

"No, " said the bishop, when Mr. Archibald had finished what he had to say, "there is nothing to thank me for. It was a stupid thing to launch a younggirl out upon what, by some very natural bit of carelessness, might havebecome to her the waters of eternity, and it was my very commonplace dutyto get her out of the danger into which I had placed her; so this, my dearsir, is really all there is to say about the matter. "

Mr. Archibald differed with him for about ten minutes, and then returnedto his camp. 

Phil Matlack was also affected by the account of the rescue, and heexpressed his feelings to Martin. 

"He pulled up the stake, did he?" said Phil. "Well, I'll make him pull uphis stakes, and before he goes I've a mind to teach him not to meddle withother people's affairs. "

"If I were you, " said Martin, "I wouldn't try to teach him anything. "

"You think he is too stupid to learn?" said Matlack, getting more and moreangry at the bishop's impertinent and inexcusable conduct. "Well, I'vetaught stupid people before this. "

"He's a bigger man than you are, " said Martin. 

Matlack withdrew the knife from the loaf of bread he was cutting, andlooked at the young man. 

"Bigger?" said he, scornfully. "What's that got to do with it? A load ofhay is bigger than a crow-bar, but I guess the crow-bar would get throughthe hay without much trouble. "

"You'd better talk about a load of rocks, " said Martin. "I don't thinkyou'd find it easy to get a crow-bar through them. "

Matlack looked up inquiringly. "Has he been thrashing you?" he asked. 

"No, he hasn't, " said Martin, sharply. 

"You didn't fight him, then?"

"No, I didn't, " was the answer. 

"Why didn't you? You were here to take charge of this camp and keep thingsin order. Why didn't you fight him?"

"I don't fight that sort of a man, " said Martin, with an air which, if itwere not disdainful, was intended to be. 

Matlack gazed at him a moment in silence, and then went on cutting thebread. "I don't understand this thing, " he said to himself. "I must lookinto it. "

CHAPTER XIII

THE WORLD GOES WRONG WITH MR. RAYBOLD

The next morning Mr. Archibald started out, very early, on a fishingexpedition by himself. He was an enthusiastic angler, and had not greatlyenjoyed the experience of the day before. He did not object to shooting ifthere were any legitimate game to shoot, and he liked to tramp through themountain wilds under the guidance of such a man as Matlack; but to keepcompany all day with Raybold, who, in the very heart of nature, talkedonly of the gossip of the town, and who punctuated his small talk byintermittent firing at everything which looked like a bird or suggestedthe movements of an animal, was not agreeable to him. Clyde was a betterfellow, and Mr. Archibald liked him, but he was young and abstracted, andthe interest which clings around an abstracted person who is young isoften inconsiderable, so he determined for one day at least to leave SirCupid to his own devices, for he could not spend all his time defendingMargery from amatory dawdle. For this one day he would leave the task tohis wife. 

That day Mr. Raybold was in a moody mood. Early in the morning he hadwalked to Sadler's, his object being to secure from the trunk which he hadleft there a suit of ordinary summer clothes. He had come to think thatperhaps his bicycle attire, although very suitable for this sort of life, failed to make him as attractive in the eyes of youth and beauty as hemight be if clothed in more becoming garments. It was the middle of theafternoon before he returned, and as he carried a large package, he wentdirectly to his own camp, and in about half an hour afterwards he cameover to Camp Rob dressed in a light suit, which improved his generalappearance very much. 

In his countenance, however, there was no improvement whatever, for helooked more out of humor than when he had set out, and when he saw thatMrs. Archibald was sitting alone in the shade, reading, and that at aconsiderable distance Harrison Clyde was seated by Margery, giving her alesson in drawing upon birch bark, or else taking a lesson from her, hisill-humor increased. 

"It is too bad, " said he, taking a seat by Mrs. Archibald without beingasked; "everything seems to go wrong out here in these woods. It is anunnatural way to live, anyhow, and I suppose it serves us right. When Iwent to Sadler's I found a letter from my sister Corona, who says shewould like me to make arrangements for her to come here and camp with usfor a time. Now that suits me very well indeed. My sister Corona is a veryfine young woman, and I think it would be an excellent thing to have twoyoung ladies here instead of one. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Archibald, "that might be very pleasant. I should be gladfor Margery to have a companion of her own sex. "

"I understand precisely, " said Raybold, nodding his head sagaciously; "ofher own sex. Yes, I see your drift, and I agree with you absolutely. Thereis a little too much of that thing over there, and I don't wonder you areannoyed. "

"I did not say I was annoyed, " said Mrs. Archibald, rather surprised. 

"No, " he answered, "you did not say so, but I can read between the lines, even spoken lines. Now when I heard that my sister wanted to come outhere, " he continued, "at first I did not like it, for I thought she mightbe some sort of a restraint upon me; but when I considered the matterfurther, I became very much in favor of it, and I sent a telegram by thestage telling her to come immediately, and that everything would be readyfor her. My sister has a sufficient income of her own, and she likes tohave everything suited to her needs. I am different. I am a man of theworld, and although I do not always care to conform to circumstances, Ican generally make circumstances conform to me. As Shakespeare says, 'Theworld is my pottle, and I stir my spoon. ' You must excuse my quoting, butI cannot help it. My life work is to be upon the stage, and where one'smind is, there will his words be also. "

Mr. Raybold was now in a much more pleasant mood than when he came to sitin the shade with Mrs. Archibald. He was talking; he had found some onewho listened and who had very little to say for herself. 

"Consequently, " he remarked, "I ordered from Mr. Sadler the very best tentthat he had. It has two compartments in it, and it is really ascomfortable as a house, and as my sister wrote that she wished a femaleattendant, not caring to have her meals cooked by boys--a very flippantexpression, by-the-way--I have engaged for her a she-guide. "

"A what?" asked Mrs. Archibald. 

"A person, " said he, "who is a guide of the female gender. She was thewife of a hunter who was accidentally shot, Sadler told me, by a young manwho was with him on a gunning expedition. I told Sadler that it wasreprehensible to allow such fellows to have guns, but he said that theyare not as dangerous now as they used to be. This is because the guideshave learned to beware of them, I suppose. This woman has lived in thewoods and knows all about camp life, and Sadler says there could not be abetter person found to attend a young lady in camp. So I engaged her, andI must say she charged just as much as if she were a man. "

"Why shouldn't she, " said Mrs. Archibald, "if she is just as good?"

To this remark Raybold paid no attention. "I will tell you, " he said, "confidentially, of course, and I think you have as much reason to beinterested in it as I have, why I came to view with so much favor mysister's coming here. She is a very attractive young woman, and I thinkshe cannot fail to interest Clyde, and that, of course, will be ofadvantage to your niece. "

"She is not my niece, you know, " said Mrs. Archibald. 

"Well, " said he, "it is all the same. 'Let it be a bird wing or a flower, so it pleases'--a quotation which is also Avonian--and if Clyde likesCorona he will let Miss Dearborn alone. That's the sort of man he is. "

"And in that case, " said Mrs. Archibald, "I suppose you would not beunwilling to provide Margery with company. "

"Madam, " said the young man, leaning forward and fixing his eyes upon theground, and then turning them upon her without moving his face towardsher, "with me all that is a different matter. I may have occasion later tospeak to you and your husband upon the subject of Miss Dearborn. "

"In which case, " said Mrs. Archibald, quickly, "I am sure that my husbandwill be very glad to speak to you. But why, may I ask, were you sodisturbed when you came here, just now? You said the world was goingwrong. "

"I declare, " said he, knitting his brows and clapping one hand on hisknee, "I actually forgot! The world wrong? I should say it was wrong! Mysister can't come, and I don't know what to do about it. "

"Can't come?" asked Mrs. Archibald. 

"Of course not, " said he, all his ill-humor having returned. "That fellow, the bishop, is in our camp and in Clyde's bed. Clyde foolishly gave himhis bed because he said the cook-tent was too cramped for a man to stay init all day. "

"Why need he stay?" asked Mrs. Archibald. "Has he taken cold? Is hesick?"

"No indeed, " said Raybold. "If he were sick we might send for a cart andhave him taken to Sadler's, but the trouble is worse than that. Hisclothes, in which he foolishly jumped into the water, have shrunken somuch that he cannot get them on, and as he has no others, he is obliged tostay in bed. "

"But surely something can be done, " said Mrs. Archibald. 

"No, " he interrupted, "nothing can be done. The clothes have dried, and ifyou could see them as they hang up on the bushes, you would understand whythat man can never get into them again. The material is entirelyunsuitable for out-door life. Clyde proposes that we shall lend himsomething, but there are no clothes in this party into which such asausage of a man could get himself. So there he is, and there, I suppose, he will remain indefinitely; and I don't want to bring my sister to a campwith a permanently occupied hospital bed in it. As soon as I agreed toCorona's coming I determined to bounce that man, but now--" So saying, Mr. Raybold rose, folded his arms, and knit his brows, and as he did so heglanced towards the spot where Margery and Clyde had been sitting, andperceived that the latter had departed, probably to get some more birchbark; and so, with a nod to Mrs. Archibald, he sauntered away, bending hissteps, as it were accidentally, in the direction of the young lady leftalone. 

When Mr. Archibald heard, that evening, of the bishop's plight andRaybold's discomfiture, he was amused, but also glad to know there was anopportunity for doing something practical for the bishop. He was beginningto like the man, in spite of his indefiniteness, so he went to see thebedridden prelate who was neither sick nor clerical, and with very littletrouble induced him to take a few general measurements of his figure. 

"It is so good of you, " said the delighted recumbent, "that I shall notsay a word, but step aside in deference to your conscience, whoseencomiums will far transcend anything I can say. You will pardon me, I amsure, if I make my measurements liberal. The cost will not be increased, and to live, move, and breathe in a suit of clothes which is large enoughfor me is a joy which I have not known for a long time. Shoes, did yousay, sir? Truly this is generosity supereminent. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Archibald, laughing, "and you also shall have a new hat. Iwill fit you out completely, and if this helps you to make a new and agood start in life, I shall be greatly gratified. "

"Sir, " said the bishop, the moisture of genuine gratitude in his eyes, "you are doing, I think, far more good than you can imagine, and pardon meif I suggest, since you are going to get me a hat, that it be not ofclerical fashion. If everything is to be new, I should like everythingdifferent, and I am certain the cost will be less. "

"All right, " said Mr. Archibald. "I will now make a list of what you need, and I will write to one of my clerks, who will procure everything. "

When Mr. Archibald went back to his camp he met Raybold, stalking moodily. Having been told what had been done for the bishop's relief, the young manwas astonished. 

"A complete outfit, and for him? I would not have dreamed of it; andbesides, it is of no use; it must be days before the clothes arrive, andmy sister wishes to come immediately. "

"Do you suppose, " exclaimed Mr. Archibald, "that I am doing this for thesake of your sister? I am doing it for the man himself. "

When Mr. Archibald told his wife of this little interview they bothlaughed heartily. 

"If Mr. Raybold's sister, " said she, "is like him, I do not think we shallcare to have her here; but sisters are often very different from theirbrothers. However, the bishop need not prevent her coming. If his clothesdo not arrive before she does, I am sure there could be no objection toher tent being set up for a time in some of the open space in our camp, and then we shall become sooner acquainted with her; if she is a suitableperson, I shall be very glad indeed for Margery to have a companion. "

"All right, " said Mr. Archibald; "let her pitch her tent where shepleases. I am satisfied. "

CHAPTER XIV

THE ASSERTION OF INDIVIDUALITY

It was a week after her brother had sent her his telegram before MissCorona Raybold arrived at Camp Rob, with her tent, her outfit, and herfemale guide. Mrs. Archibald had been surprised that she did not appearsooner, for, considering Mr. Raybold's state of mind, she had supposedthat his sister had wished to come at the earliest possible moment. 

"But, " said Raybold, in explaining the delay, "Corona is very differentfrom me. In my actions 'the thunder's roar doth crowd upon the lightning'sheels, ' as William has told us. "

"Where in Shakespeare is that?" asked Mrs. Archibald. 

Mr. Raybold bent his brow. "For the nonce, " said he, "I do not recall theexact position of the lines. " And after that he made no more Avonianquotations to Mrs. Archibald. 

The arrival of the young lady was, of course, a very important event, andeven Mr. Archibald rowed in from the lake when he saw her caravanapproaching, herself walking in the lead. She proved to be a young personof medium height, slight, and dressed in a becoming suit of dark blue. Herhair and eyes were dark, her features regular and of a classic cut, andshe wore eye-glasses. Her manner was quiet, and at first she appearedreserved, but she soon showed that if she wished to speak she could talkvery freely. She wore an air of dignified composure, but was affable, andvery attentive to what was said to her. 

Altogether she made in a short time an extremely favorable impression uponMr. And Mrs. Archibald, and in a very much less time an extremelyunfavorable impression upon Margery. 

Miss Raybold greeted everybody pleasantly, even informing Matlack that shehad heard of him as a famous guide, and after thanking Mr. And Mrs. Archibald for their permission to set up her tent on the outskirts oftheir camp, she proceeded to said tent, which was speedily made ready forher. 

Mrs. Perkenpine, her guide, was an energetic woman, and under her ordersthe men who brought the baggage bestirred themselves wonderfully. 

Just before supper, to which meal the Raybolds and Mr. Clyde had beeninvited, the latter came to Mr. Archibald, evidently much troubled andannoyed. 

"I am positively ashamed to mention it to you, sir, " he said, "but I musttell you that Raybold has ordered the men who brought his sister's tent tobring our tent over here and put it up near her's. I was away when thiswas done, and I wish to assure you most earnestly that I had nothing to dowith it. The men have gone, and I don't suppose we can get it backto-night. "

Mr. Archibald opened his eyes very wide. "Your friend is certainly aremarkable young man, " said he, "but we must not have any bad feeling incamp, so let everything remain as it is for to-night. I suppose he wishedto be near his sister, but at least he might have asked permission. "

"I think, " said Clyde, "that he did not so much care to be near his sisteras he did to be away from the bishop, who is now left alone in our littleshelter-tent. "

Mr. Archibald laughed. "Well, " said he, "he will come to no harm, and wemust see that he has some supper. "

"Oh, I shall attend to that, " said Clyde, "and to his breakfast also. And, now I come to think of it, I believe that one reason Raybold moved ourtent over here was to get the benefit of his sister's cook. The bishop didour cooking, you know, before he took to his bed. "

That evening Miss Raybold joined the party around the camp-fire. Shedeclared that in the open air she did not in the least object to the useof tobacco, and then she asked Mr. Archibald if his two guides came to thecamp-fire after their work was done. 

"They do just as they please, " was the answer. "Sometimes they come overhere and smoke their pipes a little in the background, and sometimes theygo off by themselves. We are very democratic here in camp, you know. "

"I like that, " said Miss Raybold, "and I will have Mrs. Perkenpine comeover when she has arranged the tent for the night. Arthur, will you go andtell her?"

Her brother did not immediately rise to execute this commission. He hopedthat Mr. Clyde would offer to do the service, but the latter did notimprove the opportunity to make himself agreeable to the new-comer, andRaybold did the errand. 

Harrison Clyde was sitting by Margery, and Margery was giving a littleattention to what he said to her and a great deal of attention to CoronaRaybold. 

"More self-conceit and a better-fitting dress I never saw, " thoughtMargery; "it's loose and easy, and yet it seems to fit perfectly, and I dobelieve she thinks she is some sort of an upper angel who has condescendedto come down here just to see what common people are like. "

Corona talked to Mr. Archibald. It was her custom always to talk to theprincipal personage of a party. 

"It gives me pleasure, sir, " said she, "to meet with you and your wife. Itis so seldom that we find any one--" She was interrupted by Mrs. Perkenpine, who stood behind her. 

The she-guide was a large woman, apparently taller than Matlack. Hersunburnt face was partly shaded by a man's straw hat, secured on her headby strings tied under her chin. She wore a very plain gown, coarse intexture, and of a light-blue color, which showed that it had been washedvery often. Her voice and her shoes, the latter well displayed by hershort skirt, creaked, but her gray eyes were bright, and moved about afterthe manner of searchlights. 

"Well, " said she to Miss Raybold, "what do you want?"

Corona turned her head and placidly gazed up at her. "I simply wished tolet you know that you might join this company here if you liked. The twomen guides are coming, you see. "

Mrs. Perkenpine glanced around the group. "Is there any hunting stories tobe told?" she asked. 

Mr. Archibald laughed. "I don't know, " he said, "but perhaps we may havesome. I am sure that Matlack here has hunting stories to tell. "

Mrs. Perkenpine shook her head. "No, sir, " said she; "I don't want none ofhis stories. I've heard them all mostly two or three times over. "

"I dare say you have, " said Phil, seating himself on a fallen trunk, alittle back from the fire; "but you see, Mrs. Perkenpine, you are soobstinate about keepin' on livin'. If you'd died when you was younger, youwouldn't have heard so many of those stories. "

"There's been times, " said she, "when you was tellin' the story of thebear cubs and the condensed milk, when I wished I had died when I wasyounger, or else you had. "

"Perhaps, " said Miss Raybold, in a clear, decisive voice, "Mr. Matlack mayknow hunting stories that will be new to all of us, but before he beginsthem I have something which I would like to say. "

"All right, " said Mrs. Perkenpine, seating herself promptly upon theground; "if you're goin' to talk, I'll stay. I'd like to know what kind ofthings you do talk about when you talk. "

"I was just now remarking, " said Miss Corona, "that I am very glad indeedto meet with those who, like Mr. And Mrs. Archibald, are willing to settheir feet upon the modern usages of society (which would crowd ustogether in a common herd) and assert their individuality. "

Mr. Archibald looked at the speaker inquiringly. 

"Of course, " said she, "I refer to the fact that you and Mrs. Archibaldare on a wedding-journey. "

At this remark Phil Matlack rose suddenly from the tree-trunk and Martindropped his pipe. Mr. Clyde turned his gaze upon Margery, who thereuponburst out laughing, and then he looked in amazement from Mr. Archibald toMrs. Archibald and back again. Mrs. Perkenpine sat up very straight andleaned forward, her hands upon her knees. 

"Is it them two sittin' over there?" she said, pointing to Margery andClyde. "Are they on a honey-moon?"

"No!" exclaimed Arthur Raybold, in a loud, sharp voice. "What anabsurdity! Corona, what are you talking about?"

To this his sister paid no attention whatever. "I think, " she said, "itwas a noble thing to do. An assertion of one's inner self is always noble, and when I heard of this assertion I wished very much to know the man andthe woman who had so asserted themselves, and this was my principal reasonfor determining to come to this camp. "

"But where on earth, " asked Mr. Archibald, "did you hear that we were on awedding-journey?"

"I read it in a newspaper, " said Corona. 

"I do declare, " exclaimed Mrs. Archibald, "everything is in thenewspapers! I did think that we might settle down here and enjoy ourselveswithout people talking about our reason for coming!"

"You don't mean to say, " cried Mrs. Perkenpine, now on her feet, "that youtwo elderly ones is the honey-mooners?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Archibald, looking with amusement on the astonished facesabout him, "we truly are. "

"Well, " said the she-guide, seating herself, "if I'd stayed an old maid aslong as that, I think I'd stuck it out. But perhaps you was a widow, mum?"

"No, indeed, " cried Mr. Archibald; "she was a charming girl when I marriedher. But just let me tell you how the matter stands, " and he proceeded torelate the facts of the case. "I thought, " he said, in conclusion, turningto Matlack, "that perhaps you knew about it, for I told Mr. Sadler, and Isupposed he might have mentioned it to you. "

"No, sir, " said Matlack, relighting his pipe, "he knows me better thanthat. If he'd called me and said, 'Phil, I want you to take charge of acouple that's goin' honey-moonin' about twenty-five years after theymarried, and a-doin' it for somebody else and not for themselves, ' I'dsaid to him, 'They're lunatics, and I won't take charge of them. ' AndPeter he knows I would have thought that and would have said it, and so hedid not mention the particulars to me. He knows that the only things thatI'm afraid of in this world is lunatics. 'Tisn't only what they might doto me, but what they might do to themselves, and I won't touch 'em. "

"I hope, " said Mrs. Archibald, "that you don't consider us lunatics nowthat you have heard why we are here. "

"Oh no, " said the guide; "I've found that you're regular common-sensepeople, and I don't change my opinions even when I've heard particulars;but if I'd heard particulars first, it would have been all up with mytakin' charge of you. "

"And you knew it all the time?" said Clyde to Margery, speaking so thatshe only could hear. 

"I knew it, " she said, "but I didn't think it worth talking about. Do youknow Mr. Raybold's sister? Do you like her?"

"I have met her, " said Clyde; "but she is too lofty for me. "

"What is there lofty about her?" said Margery. 

"Well, " said he, "she is lofty because she has elevated ideas. She goes infor reform; and for pretty much all kinds, from what I have heard. "

"I think she is lofty, " remarked Margery, "because she is stuck-up. Idon't like her. "

"It is so seldom, " Corona now continued, "that we find people who arewilling to assert their individuality, and when they are found I alwayswant to talk to them. I suppose, Mr. Matlack, that your life is one longassertion of individuality?"

"What, ma'am?" asked the guide. 

"I mean, " said she, "that when you are out alone in the wild forest, holding in your hand the weapon which decides the question of life ordeath for any living creature over whom you may choose to exercise yourjurisdiction, absolutely independent of every social trammel, every bondof conventionalism, you must feel that you are a predominant whole and nota mere integral part. "

"Well, " said Matlack, speaking slowly, "I may have had them feelin's, butif I did they must have struck in, and not come out on the skin, likemeasles, where I could see 'em. "

"Corona, " said her brother, in a peevish undertone, "what is the good ofall that? You're wasting your words on such a man. "

His sister turned a mild steady gaze upon him. "I don't know any man butyou, " she said, "on whom I waste my words. "

"Is assertin' like persistin'?" inquired Mrs. Perkenpine at this point. 

"The two actions are somewhat alike, " said Corona. 

"Well, then, " said the she-guide, "I'm in for assertin'. When my husbandwas alive there was a good many things I wanted to do, and when I wantedto do a thing or get a thing I kept on sayin' so; and one day, after I'dbeen keepin' on sayin' so a good while, he says to me, 'Jane, ' says he, 'it seems to me that you're persistin'. ' 'Yes, ' says I, 'I am, and Iintend to be. ' 'Then you are goin' to keep on insistin' on persistin'?'says he. 'Yes, ' says I; and then says he, 'If you keep on insistin' onpersistin' I'll be thinkin' of 'listin'. ' By which he meant goin' into thearmy as a regular, and gettin' rid of me; and as I didn't want to be ridof him, I stopped persistin'; but now I wish I had persisted, for thenhe'd 'listed, and most likely would be alive now, through not bein' shotin the back by a city fool with a gun. "

"I do not believe, " said Mrs. Archibald to her husband, when they hadretired to their cabin, "that that young woman is going to be much of acompanion for Margery. I think she will prefer your society to that of anyof the rest of us. It is very plain that she thinks it is yourindividuality which has been asserted. "

"Well, " said he, rubbing his spectacles with his handkerchief beforeputting them away for the night, "don't let her project her individualityinto my sport. That's all I have to say. "

CHAPTER XV

A NET OF COBWEBS TO CAGE A LION

"I think there's something besides a lunatic that you are afraid of, " saidMartin to Matlack the next morning, as they were preparing breakfast. 

"What's that?" inquired the guide, sharply. 

"It's that fellow they call the bishop, " said Martin. "He put a prettyheavy slur on you. You drove down a stake, and you locked your boat to it, and you walked away as big as if you were the sheriff of the county, andhere he comes along, and snaps his fingers at you and your locks, and, ascool as a cucumber, he pulls up the stake and shoves out on the lake, allalone by herself, a young lady that you are paid to take care of andprotect from danger. "

"I want you to know, Martin Sanders, " said Matlack, "that I don't pitchinto a man when he's in his bed, no matter what it is that made him taketo his bed or stay there. But I'll just say to you now, that when he getsup and shows himself, there'll be the biggest case of bounce in theseparts that you ever saw. "

"Bounce!" said Martin to himself, as he turned away. "I have heard so muchof it lately that I'd like to see a little. "

Matlack also communed with himself. "He's awful anxious to get up aquarrel between me and the parson, " he thought. "I wonder if he was toofree with his tongue and did get thrashed. He don't show no signs of it, except he's so concerned in his mind to see somebody do for the parsonwhat he ain't able to do himself. But I'll find out about it! I'll thrashthat fellow in black, and before I let him up I'll make him tell me whathe did to Martin. I'd do a good deal to get hold of something that wouldtake the conceit out of that fellow. "

Mr. Arthur Raybold was a deep-minded person, and sometimes it wasdifficult for him, with the fathoming apparatus he had on hand, todiscover the very bottom of his mind. Now, far below the surface, histhoughts revolved. He had come to the conclusion that he would marryMargery. In the first place, he was greatly attracted by her, and again heconsidered it would be a most advantageous union. She was charming to lookupon, and her mind was so uncramped by conventionalities that it couldadapt itself to almost any sphere to which she might direct it. Heexpected his life-work to be upon the stage, and what an actress MissDearborn would make if properly educated--as he could educate her! Withthis most important purpose in view, why should he waste his time? TheArchibalds could not much longer remain in camp. They had limited theirholiday to a month, and that was more than half gone. He must strike now. 

The first thing to do was to get Clyde out of the way; then he would speakto Mr. Archibald and ask for authority to press his suit, and he wouldpress that suit as few men on earth, he said to himself, would be able topress it. What girl could deny herself to him when he came to her clad notonly with his own personal attributes, but with the fervor of a Romeo, theintellectuality of a Hamlet, and the force of an Othello?

The Clyde part of the affair seemed very simple; as his party would ofcourse have their own table Clyde would see his sister at every meal, andas Corona did not care to talk to him, and must talk to somebody, shewould be compelled to talk to Clyde, and if she talked to Clyde and lookedat him as she always did when she talked to people, he did not see how hecould help being attracted by her, and when once that sort of thing beganthe Margery-field would be open to him. 

He excused himself that morning for hurriedly leaving the breakfast-tableby saying that he wished to see Mr. Archibald before he started outfishing. 

He found that gentleman talking to Matlack. "Can I see you alone, sir?"said Raybold. "I have something of importance I wish to say to you. "

"Very good, " said the other, "for I have something I wish to say to you, "and they retired towards the lake. 

"What is it?" inquired Mr. Archibald. 

"It is this, " said Raybold, folding his arms as he spoke. "I am a man ofbut few words. When I have formed a purpose I call upon my actions toexpress it rather than my speech. I will not delay, therefore, to say toyou that I love your ward, and my sole object in seeking this interview isto ask your permission to pay my addresses to her. That permission given, I will attend to the rest. "

"After you have dropped your penny in the slot, " remarked Mr. Archibald. "I must say, " he continued, "that I am rather surprised at the nature ofyour communication. I supposed you were going to explain your somewhatremarkable conduct in bringing your tent into my camp without asking mypermission or even speaking to me about it; but as what you have said isof so much more importance than that breach of good manners I will let thelatter drop. But why did you ask my permission to address Miss Dearborn?Why didn't you go and do it just as you brought your tent here? Did youthink that if you had a permit from me for that sort of sport you couldwarn off trespassers?"

"It was something of that kind, " said Raybold, "although I should not haveput it in that trifling way. "

"Then I will remark, " said Mr. Archibald, "that I know nothing of yourmatrimonial availability, and I do not want to know anything about it. Mywife and I brought Miss Dearborn here to enjoy herself in the woods, notto be sought in marriage by strangers. For the present I am her guardian, and as such I say to you that I forbid you to make her a proposal ofmarriage, or, indeed, to pay her any attentions which she may considerserious. If I see that you do not respect my wishes in this regard, Ishall ask you to consider our acquaintance at an end, and shall dispensewith your visits to this camp. Have I spoken plainly?"

The knitted brows of Raybold were directed towards the ground. "You havespoken plainly, " he said, "and I have heard, " and with a bow he walkedaway. 

As he approached his tent a smile, intended to be bitter, played about hisfeatures. 

"A net of cobwebs, " he muttered, "to cage a lion!"

The weather had now grown sultry, the afternoon was very hot, and therewas a general desire to lie in the shade and doze. Margery's plans for asiesta were a little more complicated than those of the others. She longedto lie in a hammock under great trees, surrounded by the leafy screens ofthe woodlands; to gaze at the blue sky through the loop-holes in thetowering branches above her, and to dream of the mysteries of the forest. 

"Martin, " said she, to the young guide, "is there a hammock among thethings we brought with us?"

His face brightened. "Of course there are hammocks, " he said. "I wondernone of you asked about them before. "

"I never thought of it, " said Margery. "I haven't had time for lounging, and as for Aunt Harriet, she would not get into one for five dollars. "

"Where shall I hang it?" he asked. 

"Not anywhere about here. Couldn't you find some nice place in the woods, not far away, but where I would not be seen, and might have a little timeto myself? If you can, come and tell me quietly where it is. "

"I know what she means, " said Martin to himself. "It's a shame that sheshould be annoyed. I can find you just such a place, " he said to Margery. "I will hang the hammock there, and I will take care that nobody elseshall know where it is. " And away he went, bounding heart and foot. 

In less than a quarter of an hour he returned. "It's all ready, MissDearborn, " he said. "I think I have found a place you will like. It'sgenerally very close in the woods on a day like this, but there is alittle bluff back of us, and at the end of it the woods are open, so thatthere is a good deal of air there. "

"That is charming, " said Margery, and with a book in her hand sheaccompanied Martin. 

They were each so interested in the hammock business that they walked sideby side, instead of one following the other, as had been their customheretofore. 

"Oh, this is a delightful place!" cried Margery. "I can lie here and lookdown into the very heart of the woods; it is a solitude like RobinsonCrusoe's island. "

"I am glad you like it, " said Martin. "I thought you would. I have put upthe hammock strongly, so that you need not be afraid of it; but if thereis any other way you want it I can change it. There is not a thing herethat can hurt you, and if a little snake should happen along it would beglad to get away from you if you give it a chance. But if you should befrightened or should want anything you have only to call for me. I shallhear you, for I shall be out in the open just at the edge of the woods. "

"Thank you very much, " said Margery; "nothing could be nicer than this, and you did it so quickly. "

He smiled with pleasure as he answered that he could have done it morequickly if it had been necessary; and then he retired slowly, that shemight call him back if she thought of anything she wanted. 

Margery lay in the hammock, gazing out over the edge of the bluff into theheart of the woods; her closed book was in her hand, and the gentle breezethat shook the leaves around her and disturbed the loose curls about herface was laden with a moist spiciness which made her believe it had beenwandering through some fragrant foliage of a kind unknown to her, far awayin the depths of the forest, where she could not walk on account of therocks, the great bushes, and the tall ferns. It was lovely to lie andwatch the leafy boughs, which seemed as if they were waving theirhandkerchiefs to the breeze as it passed. 

"I don't believe, " she said to herself, as she cast her eyes upwardtowards an open space above her, "that if I were that little white cloudand could float over the whole world and drop down on any spot I chosethat I could drop into a lovelier place than this. " Then she brought hergaze again to earth, and her mind went out between the shadowy trunkswhich stretched away and away and away towards the mysteries of theforest, which must always be mysteries to her because it was impossiblefor her to get to them and solve them--that is, if she remained awake. Butif Master Morpheus should happen by, she might yet know everything--forthere are no mysteries which cannot be solved in dreams. 

Master Morpheus came, but with him came also Arthur Raybold; not by thelittle pathway that approached from the direction of the lake, but partingthe bushes as if he had been exploring. When she heard footsteps behindher, Margery looked up quickly. 

"Mr. Raybold!" she exclaimed. "How on earth did you happen here?"

"I did not happen, " said he, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. "Ihave been looking for you, and I have had tough work of it. I saw you gointo the woods, and I went in also, although some distance below here, andI have had a hard and tiresome job working my way up to you; but I havefound you. I knew I should, for I had bent my mind to the undertaking. "

"Well, I wish you hadn't, " said Margery, in a vexed tone. "I came here tobe alone and take a nap, and I wish you would find some other nice placeand go and take a nap yourself. "

He smiled deeply. "That would not answer my purpose at all, " said he. "Napping is far from my desires. "

"But I don't care anything about your desires, " said Margery, in a tonewhich showed she was truly vexed, "I have pre-empted this place, and Iwant it to myself. I was just falling into a most delightful doze when youcame, and I don't think you have any right to come here and disturb me. "

"The sense of right, Miss Dearborn, " said he, "comes from the heart, andwe do not have to ask other people what it is. My heart has given me theright to come here, and here I am. "

"And what in the name of common-sense are you here for?" said Margery. "Speaking about your heart makes me think you came here to make love tome. Is that it?"

"It is, " said he, "and I wish you to hear me. "

"Mr. Raybold, " said she, her eyes as bright, he thought, as if they hadbelonged to his sister when she was urging some of her favorite views upona company, "I won't listen to one word of such stuff. This is no place forlove-making, and I won't have it. If you want to make love to me you canwait until I go home, and then you can come and speak to my mother aboutit, and when you have spoken to her you can speak to me, but I won'tlisten to it here. Not one word!"

Thus did the indignant craftiness of Margery express itself. "It's a gooddeal better, " she thought, "than telling him no, and having him keep onbegging and begging. "

"Miss Dearborn, " said Raybold, "what I have to say cannot be postponed. The words within me must be spoken, and I came here to speak them. "

With a sudden supple twist Margery turned herself, hammock and all, andstood on her feet on the ground. "Martin!" she cried, at the top of hervoice. 

Raybold stepped back astonished. "What is this?" he exclaimed. "Am I tounderstand--"

Before he had time to complete his sentence Martin Sanders sprang into thescene. 

"What is it?" he exclaimed, with a glare at Raybold, as if he suspectedwhy he had been called. 

"Martin, " said Margery, with a good deal of sharpness in her voice, "Iwant you to take down this hammock and carry it away. I can't stay hereany longer. I thought that at least one quiet place out-of-doors could befound where I would not be disturbed, but it seems there is no such place. Perhaps you can hang the hammock somewhere near our cabin. "

Martin's face grew very red. "I think, " said he, "that you ought not to beobliged to go away because you have been disturbed. Whoever disturbed youshould go away, and not you. "

Now Mr. Raybold's face also grew red. "There has been enough of this!" heexclaimed. "Guide, you can go where you came from. You are not wantedhere. If Miss Dearborn wishes her hammock taken down, I will do it. " Thenturning to Margery, he continued: "You do not know what it is I have tosay to you. If you do not hear me now, you will regret it all your life. Send this man away. "

"I would very much like to send a man away if I knew how to do it, " saidMargery. 

"Do it?" cried Martin. "Oh, Miss Dearborn, if you want it done, ask me todo it for you!"

"You!" shouted Raybold, making two steps towards the young guide; then hestopped, for Margery stood in front of him. 

"I have never seen two men fight, " said she, "and I don't say I wouldn'tlike it, just once; but you would have to have on boxing-gloves; Icouldn't stand a fight with plain hands, so you needn't think of it. Martin, take down the hammock just as quickly as you can. And if you wantto stay here, Mr. Raybold, you can stay, but if you want to talk, you cantalk to the trees. "

Martin heaved a sigh of disappointment, and proceeded to unfasten thehammock from the trees to which it had been tied. For a moment Rayboldlooked as if he were about to interfere, but there was something in thefeverish agility of the young guide which made his close proximity asundesirable as that of a package of dynamite. 

Margery turned to leave the place, but suddenly stopped. She would waituntil Martin was ready to go with her. She would not leave those two youngmen alone. 

Raybold was very angry. He knew well that such a chance for a privateinterview was not likely to occur again, and he would not give up. Heapproached the young girl. 

"Margery, " he said, "if you--"

"Martin, " she cried to the guide, who was now ready to go, "put down thathammock and come here. Now, sir, " she said, turning to Raybold, "let mehear you call me Margery again!"

She waited for about a half a minute, but she was not called by name. Thenshe and Martin went away. She had nearly reached the cabin before shespoke, and then she turned to the young man and said: "Martin, you needn'ttrouble yourself about putting up that hammock now; I don't want to lie init. I'm going into the house. I am very much obliged to you for the wayyou stood by me. "

"Stood by you!" he exclaimed, in a low voice, which seemed struggling inthe grasp of something which might or might not be stronger than itself. "You don't know how glad I am to stand by you, and how I would always--"

"Thank you, " said Margery; "thank you very much, " and she walked awaytowards the cabin. 

"Oh, dear!" she sighed, as she opened the door and went in. 

CHAPTER XVI

A MAN WHO FEELS HIMSELF A MAN

Towards the end of the afternoon, when the air had grown cooler, Mr. Archibald proposed a boating expedition to the lower end of the lake. Hisboat was large enough for Matlack, the three ladies, and himself, and ifthe two young men wished to follow, they had a boat of their own. 

When first asked to join the boating party Miss Corona Raybold hesitated;she did not care very much about boating; but when she found that if shestayed in camp she would have no one to talk to, she accepted theinvitation. 

Mr. Archibald took the oars nearest the stern, while Matlack seatedhimself forward, and this arrangement suited Miss Corona exactly. 

The boat kept down the middle of the lake, greatly aided by the current, and Corona talked steadily to Mr. Archibald. Mrs. Archibald, who alwayswanted to do what was right, and who did not like to be left out of anyconversation on important subjects, made now and then a remark, andwhenever she spoke Corona turned to her and listened with the kindestattention, but the moment the elder lady had finished, the other resumedher own thread of observation without the slightest allusion to what shehad just heard. 

As for Mr. Archibald, he seldom said a word. He listened, sometimes hiseyes twinkled, and he pulled easily and steadily. Doubtless he had a goodmany ideas, but none of them was expressed. As for Margery, she leanedback in the stern, and thought that, after all, she liked Miss Rayboldbetter than she did her brother, for the young lady did not speak one wordto her, nor did she appear to regard her in any way. 

"But how on earth, " thought Margery, "she can float over this beautifulwater and under this lovely sky, with the grandeur of the forest all abouther, and yet pay not the slightest attention to anything she sees, butkeep steadily talking about her own affairs and the society she belongsto, I cannot imagine. She might as well live in a cellar and havepamphlets and reformers shoved down to her through the coal-hole. "

Messrs. Clyde and Raybold accompanied the larger boat in their own skiff. It was an unwieldy craft, with but one pair of oars, and as the two youngmen were not accustomed to rowing together, and as Mr. Raybold was notaccustomed to rowing at all and did not like it, Mr. Clyde pulled theboat. But, do what he could, it was impossible for him to get near theother boat. Matlack, who was not obliged to listen to Miss Corona, kepthis eye upon the following skiff, and seemed to fear a collision if thetwo boats came close together, for if Clyde pulled hard he pulled harder. Arthur Raybold was not satisfied. 

"I thought you were a better oarsman, " he said to the other; "but now Isuppose we shall not come near them until we land. "

But the Archibald party did not land. Under the guidance of Matlack theyswept slowly around the lower end of the lake; they looked over the biguntenanted camp-ground there; they stopped for a moment to gaze into therift in the forest through which ran the stream which connected this lakewith another beyond it, and then they rowed homeward, keeping close to thefarther shore, so as to avoid the strength of the current. 

Clyde, who had not reached the end of the lake, now turned and determinedto follow the tactics of the other boat and keep close to the shore, buton the side nearest to the camp. This exasperated Raybold. 

"What are you trying to do?" he said. "If you keep in the middle we mayget near them, and why should we be on one side of the lake and they onthe other?"

"I want to get back as soon as they do, " said Clyde, "and I don't want topull against the current. "

"Stop!" said Raybold. "If you are tired, let me have the oars. "

Harrison Clyde looked for a minute at his companion, and then deliberatelychanged the course of the boat and rowed straight towards the shore, paying no attention whatever to the excited remonstrances of Raybold. Hebeached the boat at a rather poor landing-place among some bushes, andthen, jumping out, he made her fast. 

"What do you mean?" cried Raybold, as he scrambled on shore. "Is sheleaking more than she did? What is the matter?"

"She is not leaking more than usual, " said the other, "but I am not goingto pull against that current with you growling in the stern. I am going towalk back to camp. "

In consequence of this resolution the two young men reached Camp Rob aboutthe same time that the Archibald boat touched shore, and at least an hourbefore they would have arrived had they remained in their boat. 

The party was met by Mrs. Perkenpine, bearing letters and newspapers. Aman had arrived from Sadler's in their absence, and he had brought themail. Nearly every one had letters; there was even something for Martin. Standing where they had landed, seated on bits of rock, on the grass, oron camp-chairs, all read their letters. 

While thus engaged a gentleman approached the party from the direction ofCamp Roy. He was tall, well built, handsomely dressed in a suit oflight-brown tweed, and carried himself with a buoyant uprightness. A neatstraw hat with a broad ribbon shaded his smooth-shaven face, whichsparkled with cordial good-humor. A blue cravat was tied tastefully undera broad white collar, and in his hand he carried a hickory walking-stick, cut in the woods, but good enough for a city sidewalk. Margery was thefirst to raise her eyes at the sound of the quickly approachingfootsteps. 

"Goodness gracious!" she exclaimed, and then everybody looked up. 

For a moment the new-comer was gazed upon in silence. From what giganticbandbox could this well-dressed stranger have dropped? Then, with a loudlaugh, Mr. Archibald cried, "The bishop!"

No wonder there had not been instant recognition. The loose, easy-fittingclothes gave no hint of redundant plumpness; no soiled shovel-hat cast ashadow over the smiling face, and a glittering shirt front banished allthought of gutta-percha. 

"Madam, " exclaimed the bishop, raising his hat and stepping quicklytowards Mrs. Archibald, "I cannot express the pleasure I feel in meetingyou again. And as for you, sir, " holding out his hand to Mr. Archibald, "Ihave no words in which to convey my feelings. Look upon a man, sir, whofeels himself a man, and then remember from what you raised him. I can sayno more now, but I can never forget what you have done, " and as he spokehe pressed Mr. Archibald's hand with an honest fervor, which distorted fora moment the features of that gentleman. 

From one to the other of the party the bishop glanced, as he said, "Howglad, how unutterably glad, I am to be again among you!" Turning his eyestowards Miss Raybold, he stopped. That young lady had put down the lettershe was reading, and was gazing at him through her spectacles with calmintensity. "This lady, " said the bishop, turning towards Raybold, "is yoursister, I presume? May I have the honor?"

Raybold looked at him without speaking. Here was an example of the sillyabsurdity of throwing pearls before swine. He had never wanted to haveanything to do with the fellow when he was in the gutter, and he wantednothing to do with him now. 

With a little flush on her face Mrs. Archibald rose. 

"Miss Raybold, " she said, "let me present to you"--and she hesitated for amoment--"the gentleman we call the bishop. I think you have heard us speakof him. "

"Yes, " said Miss Raybold, rising, with a charming smile on her handsomeface, and extending her hand, "I have heard of him, and I am very glad tomeet him. "

"I have also heard of you, " said the bishop, as he stood smiling besideCorona's camp-chair, "and I have regretted that I have been the innocentmeans of preventing you for a time from occupying your brother's camp. "

"Oh, do not mention that, " said Corona, sweetly. "I walked over thereyesterday, and I think it is a great deal pleasanter here, so you havereally done me a favor. I am particularly glad to see you, because, fromthe little I have heard said about you, I think you must agree with someof my cherished opinions. For one thing, I am quite certain you favor theassertion of individuality; your actions prove that. "

"Really, " said the bishop, seating himself near her, "I have not givenmuch thought to the subject; but I suppose I have asserted myindividuality. If I have, however, I have done it indefinitely. Everybodyabout me having some definite purpose in life, and I having none, I am, ina negative way, a distinctive individual. It is a pity I am so differentfrom other people, but--"

"No, it is not a pity, " interrupted Corona, the color coming into hercheeks and a brighter light into her eyes. "Our individuality is a sacredresponsibility. It is given to us for us to protect and encourage--I maysay, to revere. It is a trust for which we should be called to account byourselves, and we shall be false and disloyal to ourselves if we cannotshow that we have done everything in our power for the establishment andrecognition of our individuality. "

"It delights me to hear you speak in that way, " exclaimed the bishop. "Itencourages and cheers me. We are what we are; and if we can be more fullywhat we are than we have been, then we are more truly ourselves thanbefore. "

"And what can be nobler, " cried Corona, "than to be, in the mostdistinctive sense of the term, ourselves?"

Mr. And Mrs. Archibald walked together towards their cabin. 

"I want to be neighborly and hospitable, " said he, "but it seems to methat, now that the way is clear for Miss Raybold to move her tent to herown camp and set up house-keeping there, we should not be called upon toentertain her, and, if we want to enjoy ourselves in our own way, we cando it without thinking of her. "

"We shall certainly not do it, " said his wife, "if we do think of her. Iam very much disappointed in her. She is not a companion at all forMargery; she never speaks to her; and, on the other hand, I should thinkyou would wish she would never speak to you. "

"Well, " said her husband, "that feeling did grow upon me somewhat thisafternoon. Up to a certain point she is amusing. "

Here he was interrupted by Mrs. Perkenpine, who planted herself beforehim. 

"I s'pose you think I didn't do right, " she said, "'cause, when that bigbundle came it had your name on it; but I knew it was clothes, and thatthey was for that man in our camp, and so I took them to him myself. Iheard Phil say that the sooner that man was up and dressed, the better itwould be for all parties; and as Martin had gone off, and there wasn'tnobody to take his clothes to him, I took them to him, and that's the longand short of it. "

"I wondered how he got them, " said Mr. Archibald, "but I am glad youcarried them to him. " Then, speaking to his wife, he added, "It may be agood thing that I gave him a chance to assert his individuality. "

CHAPTER XVII

MRS. PERKENPINE ASSERTS HER INDIVIDUALITY

About half an hour after the beginning of the conversation between thebishop and Miss Corona, Mrs. Perkenpine came to the latter and informedher that supper was ready, and three times after that first announcementdid she repeat the information. At last the bishop rose and said he wouldnot keep Miss Raybold from her meal. 

"Will you not join us?" she asked. "I shall be glad to have you do so. "

The bishop hesitated for a moment, and then he accompanied Corona. 

As Mrs. Perkenpine turned from the camp cooking-stove, a long-handled pan, well filled with slices of hot meat, in her hand, she stood for a momentamazed. Slowly approaching the little table outside of the tent were thebishop and Miss Raybold, and glancing beyond them towards the lake, shesaw Clyde and Raybold, to whom she had yelled that supper was ready, theone with his arms folded, gazing out over the water, and the otherstrolling backward and forward, as if he had thought of going to hissupper, but had not quite made up his mind to it. 

Mrs. Perkenpine's face grew red. "They are waitin' for a chance to speakto that Archibald gal, " she thought. "Well, let them wait. And she'sbringing him! She needn't s'pose I don't know him. I've seen him splittin'wood at Sadler's, and I don't cook for sech. " So saying, she strode tosome bushes a little back of the stove, and dashed the panful of meatbehind them. Then she returned, and seizing the steaming coffee-pot, shepoured its contents on the ground. Then she took up a smaller pan, containing some fried potatoes, hot and savory, and these she threw afterthe meat. 

The bishop and Corona now reached the table and seated themselves. Mrs. Perkenpine, her face as hard and immovable as the trunk of an oak, approached, and placed before them some slices of cold bread, some butter, and two glasses of water. 

Still earnestly talking, her eyes sometimes dimmed with tears ofexcitement as she descanted upon her favorite theories, Corona began toeat what was before her. She buttered a slice of bread, and if the bishopchanced to say anything she ate some of it. She drank some water, and shetalked and talked and talked. She did not know what she was eating. Itmight have been a Lord Mayor's dinner or a beggar's crust; her mind tookno cognizance of such an unimportant matter. As for her companion, he knewvery well what he was eating, and as he gazed about him, and saw thatthere were no signs of anything more, his heart sank lower and lower; buthe ate slice after slice of bread, for he was hungry, and he hoped thatwhen the two young men came to the table they would call for moresubstantial food. 

But long before they arrived Corona finished her meal and rose. 

"Now that we have had our supper, " she said, "let us go where we shall notbe annoyed by the smell of food, and continue our conversation. "

"Is it possible, " thought the bishop, "that she can be annoyed by thesmell of hot meat, potatoes, and coffee? I suppose the delicious odorcomes from the other supper-table. Heavens! Why wasn't I asked there?"

There was a dreadful storm when Raybold and Clyde came to the table; butMrs. Perkenpine remained hard and immovable through it all. 

"Your sister and that tramp has been here, " said she, "and this is allthere is left. If you keep your hogs in your house, you can't expect tocount on your victuals. "

Some more coffee was made, and that, with bread, composed the young men'ssupper. 

When Arthur Raybold had finished his meal, he walked to the spot whereCorona and the bishop were conversing, and stood there silently. He wasafraid to interrupt his sister by speaking to her, but he thought that hispresence might have an effect upon her companion. It did have an effect, for the bishop seized the opportunity created by the arrival of a thirdparty, excused himself, and departed at the first break in Corona's flowof words. 

"I wish, Arthur, " she said, "that when you see I am engaged in aconversation, you would wait at least a reasonable time beforeinterrupting it. "

"A reasonable time!" said Raybold, with a laugh. "I like that! But I camehere to interrupt your conversation. Do you know who that fellow is youwere talking to? He's a common, good-for-nothing tramp. He goes roundsplitting wood for his meals. Clyde and I kept him here to cook our mealsbecause we had no servant, and he's been in bed for days because he had noclothes to wear. Now you are treating him as if he were a gentleman, andyou actually brought him to our table, where, like the half-starved curthat he is, he has eaten up everything fit to eat that we were to have forour supper. "

"He did not eat all of it, " said Corona, "for I ate some myself; and if heis the good-for-nothing tramp and the other things you call him, I wish Icould meet with more such tramps. I tell you, Arthur, that if you were tospend the next five years in reading and studying, you could not get intoyour mind one-tenth of the serious information, the power to reasonintelligently upon your perceptions, the ability to collate, compare, andrefer to their individual causes the impressions--"

"Oh, bosh!" said her brother. "What I want to know is, are you going tomake friends with that man and invite him to our table?"

"I shall invite him if I see fit, " said she. "He is an extremelyintelligent person. "

"Well, " answered he, "if you do I shall have a separate table, " and hewalked away. 

As soon as he had left Corona, the bishop repaired to the Archibalds'cooking-tent, where he saw Matlack at work. 

"I have come, " he said, with a pleasant smile, "to ask a very great favor. Would it be convenient for you to give me something to eat? Anything inthe way of meat, hot or cold, and some tea or coffee, as I see there is apot still steaming on your stove. I have had an unlucky experience. Youknow I have been preparing my own meals at the other camp, but to-day, when Mrs. Perkenpine brought me my clothes, she carried away with her allthe provisions that had been left there. I supped, it is true, with MissRaybold, but her appetite is so delicate and her fare so extremely simplethat I confidentially acknowledge that I am half starved. "

During these remarks Matlack had stood quietly gazing at the bishop. "Doyou see that pile of logs and branches there?" said he; "that's thefirewood that's got to be cut for to-morrow, which is Sunday, when wedon't want to be cuttin' wood; and if you'll go to work and cut it intopieces to fit this stove, I'll give you your supper. You can go to theother camp and sleep where you have been sleepin', if you want to, and inthe mornin' I'll give you your breakfast. I 'ain't got no right to giveyou Mr. Archibald's victuals, but what you eat I'll pay for out of my ownpocket, considerin' that you'll do my work. Then to-morrow I'll give youjust one hour after you've finished your breakfast to get out of this campaltogether, entirely out of my sight. I tried to have you sent awaybefore, but other people took you up, and so I said no more; but nowthings are different. When a man pulls up what I've drove down, and setsloose what I've locked up, and the same as snaps his fingers in my facewhen I'm attendin' to my business, then I don't let that man stay in mycamp. "

"Excuse me, " said the bishop, "but in case I should not go away within thetime specified, what would be your course?"

In a few brief remarks, inelegant but expressive, the guide outlined hisintentions of taking measures which would utterly eliminate the physicalenergy of the other. 

"I haven't taken no advantage of you, " he said, "I haven't come down onyou when you hadn't no clothes to go away in; and now that you've got goodclothes, I don't want to spile them if I can help it; but they're notgoin' to save you--mind my words. What I've said I'll stick to. "

"Mr. Matlack, " said the bishop, "I consider that you are entirely correctin all your positions. As to that unfortunate affair of the boat, I hadintended coming to you and apologizing most sincerely for my share in it. It was an act of great foolishness, but that does not in the least excuseme. I apologize now, and beg that you will believe that I truly regrethaving interfered with your arrangements. "

"That won't do!" exclaimed the guide. "When a man as much as snaps hisfingers in my face, it's no use for him to come and apologize. That's notwhat I want. "

"Nevertheless, " said the bishop, "you will pardon me if I insist uponexpressing my regrets. I do that for my own sake as well as yours; but wewill drop that subject. When you ask me to cut wood to pay for my meals, you are entirely right, and I honor your sound opinion upon this subject. I will cut the wood and earn my meals, but there is one amendment to yourplan which I would like to propose. To-morrow is Sunday; for that reasonwe should endeavor to make the day as quiet and peaceable as possible, andwe should avoid everything which may be difficult of explanation orcalculated to bring about an unpleasant difference of opinion among othermembers of the party. Therefore, will you postpone the time at which youwill definitely urge my departure until Monday morning?"

"Well, " said Matlack, "now I come to think of it, it might be well not tokick up a row on Sunday, and I will put it off until Monday morning; butmind, there's no nonsense about me. What I say I mean, and on Mondaymorning you march of your own accord, or I'll attend to the mattermyself. "

"Very good, " said the bishop; "thank you very much. To-morrow I willconsider your invitation to leave this place, and if you will come to CampRoy about half-past six on Monday morning I will then give you mydecision. Will that hour suit you?"

"All right, " said Matlack, "you might as well make it a business matter. It's going to be business on my side, I'd have you know. "

"Good--very good, " said the bishop, "and now let me get at that wood. "

So saying, he put down his cane, took off his hat, his coat, hiswaistcoat, his collar, and his cravat and his cuffs; he rolled up hissleeves, he turned up the bottoms of his trousers, and then taking an axe, he set to work. 

In a few minutes Martin arrived on the scene. "What's up now?" said he. 

"He's cuttin' wood for his meals, " replied Matlack. 

"I thought you were going to bounce him as soon as he got up?"

"That's put off until Monday morning, " said Matlack. "Then he marches. I've settled that. "

"Did he agree?" asked Martin. 

"'Tain't necessary for him to agree; he'll find that out Monday morning. "

Martin stood and looked at the bishop as he worked. 

"I wish you would get him to cut wood every day, " said he. "By George, howhe makes that axe fly!"

When the bishop finished his work he drove his axe-head deep into a stump, washed his hands and his face, resumed the clothing he had laid aside, andthen sat down to supper. There was nothing stingy about Matlack, and thewood-chopper made a meal which amply compensated him for the deficienciesof the Perkenpine repast. 

When he had finished he hurried to the spot where the party was in thehabit of assembling around the camp-fire. He found there some feeblyburning logs, and Mr. Clyde, who sat alone, smoking his pipe. 

"What is the matter?" asked the bishop. "Where are all our friends?"

[Illustration: "'WHERE ARE ALL OUR FRIENDS?'"]

"I suppose they are all in bed, " said Clyde, "with the bedclothes pulledover their heads--that is, except one, and I suspect she is talking in hersleep. They were all here as usual, and Mr. Archibald thought he wouldbreak the spell by telling a fishing story. He told me he was going to tryto speak against time; but it wasn't of any use. She just slid into themiddle of his remarks as a duck slides into the water, and then she beganan oration. I really believe she did not know that any one else wastalking. "

"That may have been the case, " said the bishop; "she has a wonderful powerof self-concentration. "

"Very true, " said Clyde, "and this time she concentrated herself so muchupon herself that the rest of us got away, one by one, and when all theothers had gone she went. Then, when I found she really had gone, I cameback. By-the-way, bishop, " he continued, "there is something I would liketo do, and I want you to help me. "

"Name it, " said the other. 

"I am getting tired of the way the Raybolds are trespassing on thegood-nature of the Archibalds, and, whatever they do, I don't intend tolet them make me trespass any longer. I haven't anything to do with MissRaybold, but the other tent belongs as much to me as it does to herbrother, and I am going to take it back to our own camp. And what is more, I am going to have my meals there. I don't want that wooden-headed Mrs. Perkenpine to cook for me. "

"How would you like me to do it?" asked the bishop, quickly. 

"That would be fine, " said Clyde. "I will help, and we will set uphouse-keeping there again, and if Raybold doesn't choose to come and livein his own camp he can go wherever he pleases. I am not going to have himmanage things for me. Don't you think that you and I can carry that tentover?"

"With ease!" exclaimed the bishop. "When do you want to move--Mondaymorning?"

"Yes, " said Clyde, "after breakfast. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THE HERMITS ASSOCIATE

During the next day no one in camp had reason to complain of CoronaRaybold. She did not seem inclined to talk to anybody, but spent the mostof her time alone. She wrote a little and reflected a great deal, sometimes walking, sometimes seated in the shade, gazing far beyond thesky. 

When the evening fire was lighted, her mood changed so that one might havesupposed that another fire had been lighted somewhere in the interior ofher mental organism. Her fine eyes glistened, her cheeks gently reddened, and her whole body became animated with an energy created by warmemotions. 

"I have something I wish to say to you all, " she exclaimed, as she reachedthe fire. "Where is Arthur? Will somebody please call him? And I wouldlike to see both the guides. It is something very important that I have tosay. Mrs. Perkenpine will be here in a moment; I asked her to come. If Mr. Matlack is not quite ready, can he not postpone what he is doing? I amsure you will all be interested in what I have to say, and I do not wantto begin until every one is here. "

Mr. Archibald saw that she was very much in earnest, and so he sent forthe guides, and Clyde went to call Raybold. 

In a few minutes Clyde returned and told Corona that her brother had saidhe did not care to attend services that evening. 

"Where is he?" asked Miss Raybold. 

"He is sitting over there looking out upon the lake, " replied Clyde. 

"I will be back almost immediately, " said she to Mr. Archibald, "and inthe mean time please let everybody assemble. "

Arthur Raybold was in no mood to attend services of any sort. He had spentnearly the whole day trying to get a chance to speak to Margery, but nevercould he find her alone. 

"If I can once put the matter plainly to her, " he said to himself, "shewill quickly perceive what it is that I offer her; and when she clearlysees that, I will undertake to make her accept it. She is only a woman, and can no more withstand me than a mound of sand built by a baby's handcould withstand the rolling wave. "

At this moment Corona arrived and told him that she wanted him at thecamp-fire. He was only a man, and could no more withstand her than a moundof sand built by a baby's hand could withstand the rolling wave. 

When everybody in the camp had gathered around the fire, Corona, hereye-glasses illumined by the light of her soul, gazed around the circleand began to speak. 

"My dear friends, " she said, "I have been thinking a great deal to-dayupon a very important subject, and I have come to the conclusion that wewho form this little company have before us one of the grandestopportunities ever afforded a group of human beings. We are here, apartfrom our ordinary circumstances and avocations, free from all the trammelsand demands of society, alone with nature and ourselves. In our ordinarylives, surrounded by our ordinary circumstances, we cannot be trulyourselves; each of us is but part of a whole, and very often an entirelyunharmonious part. It is very seldom that we are able to do the things wewish to do in the manner and at times and places when it would best suitour natures. Try as we may to be true to ourselves, it is seldom possible;we are swept away in a current of conventionality. It may be one kind ofconventionality for some of us and another kind for others, but we areborne on by it all the same. Sometimes a person like myself or Mr. Archibald clings to some rock or point upon the bank, and for a littlewhile is free from the coercion of circumstances, but this cannot be forlong, and we are soon swept with the rest into the ocean of conglomeratecommonplace. "

"That's when we die!" remarked Mrs. Perkenpine, who sat reverentlylistening. 

"No, " said the speaker, "it happens while we are alive. But now, " shecontinued, "we have a chance, as I said before, to shake ourselves freefrom our enthralment. For a little while each one of us may assert his orher individuality. We are a varied and representative party; we come fromdifferent walks of life; we are men, women, and--" looking at Margery, shewas about to say children, but she changed her expression to "youngpeople. " "I think you will all understand what I mean. When we are at ourhomes we do things because other people want us to do them, and notbecause we want to do them. A family sits down to a meal, and some of themlike what is on the table, some do not; some of them would have preferredto eat an hour before, some of them would prefer to eat an hour later; butthey all take their meals at the same time and eat the same things becauseit is the custom to do so. 

"I mention a meal simply as an instance, but the slavery of custom extendsinto every branch of our lives. We get up, we go to bed, we read, we work, we play, just as other people do these things, and not as we ourselveswould do them if we planned our own lives. Now we have a chance, all ofus, to be ourselves! Each of us may say, 'I am myself, one!' Think ofthat, my friends, each one! Each of us a unit, responsible only to his orher unity, if I may so express it. "

"Do you mean that I am that?" inquired Mrs. Perkenpine. 

"Oh yes, " replied Corona. 

"Is Phil Matlack one?"

"Yes. "

"All right, " said the female guide; "if he is one, I don't mind. "

"Now what I propose is this, " said Corona: "I understand that the stay inthis camp will continue for about a week longer, and I earnestly urge uponyou that for this time we shall each one of us assert our individuality. Let us be what we are, show ourselves what we are, and let each other seewhat we are. "

"It would not be safe nor pleasant to allow everybody to do that, " saidMr. Archibald. He was more interested in Miss Raybold's present discoursethan he had been in any other he had heard her deliver. 

"Of course, " said she, "it would not do to propose such a thing to thecriminal classes or to people of evil inclinations, but I have carefullyconsidered the whole subject as it relates to us, and I think we are aparty singularly well calculated to become the exponent of thedistinctiveness of our several existences. "

"That gits me, " said Matlack. 

"I am afraid, " said the speaker, gazing kindly at him, "that I do notalways express myself plainly to the general comprehension, but what Imean is this: that during the time we stay here, let each one of us doexactly what he or she wants to do, without considering other people atall, except, of course, that we must not do anything which would interferewith any of the others doing what they please. For instance--and I assureyou I have thought over this matter in all its details--if any of us wereinclined to swear or behave disorderly, which I am sure could not be thecase, he or she would not do so because he or she would feel that, beingresponsible to himself or herself, that responsibility would prevent himor her from doing that which would interfere with the pleasure or comfortof his or her associates. "

"I think, " said Mrs. Archibald, somewhat severely, "that our duty to ourfellow-beings is far more important than our selfish consideration ofourselves. "

"But reflect, " cried Corona, "how much consideration we give to ourfellow-beings, and how little to ourselves as ourselves, each one. Can wenot, for the sake of knowing ourselves and honoring ourselves, giveourselves to ourselves for a little while? The rest of our lives may thenbe given to others and the world. "

"I hardly believe, " said Mr. Archibald, "that all of us clearly understandyour meaning, but it seems to me that you would like each one of us tobecome, for a time, a hermit. I do not know of any other class of personswho so thoroughly assert their individuality. "

"You are right!" exclaimed Corona. "A hermit does it. A hermit is moretruly himself than any other man. He may dwell in a cave and eatwater-cresses, he may live on top of a tall pillar, or he may make hishabitation in a barrel! If a hermit should so choose, he might furnish acave with Eastern rugs and bric-à-brac. If he liked that sort of thing, hewould be himself. Yes, I would have all of us, in the truest sense of theword, hermits, each a hermit; but we need not dwell apart. Some of uswould certainly wish to assert our individuality by not dwelling apartfrom others. "

"We might, then, " said Mr. Archibald, "become a company of associatehermits. "

"Exactly!" cried Corona, stretching out her hands. "That is the veryword--associate hermits. My dear friends, from to-morrow morning, until weleave here, let us be associate hermits. Let us live for ourselves, betrue to ourselves. After all, if we think of it seriously, ourselves areall that we have in this world. Everything else may be taken from us, butno one can take from me, myself, or from any one of you, yourself. "

The bishop now rose. He as well as the others had listened attentively toeverything that had been said; even Arthur Raybold had shown a great dealof interest in his sister's remarks. 

"You mean, " said the bishop, "that while we stay here each one of us shallact exactly as we think we ought to act if we were not influenced by theopinions and examples of others around us, and thus we shall have anopportunity to find out for ourselves and show others exactly what weare. "

"That is it, " said Corona, "you have stated it very well. "

"Well, then, " said the bishop, "I move that for the time stated weindividually assert our individuality. "

"Second the motion, " said Mr. Archibald. 

"All in favor of this motion please say 'Aye, '" said Corona. "Now leteverybody vote, and I hope you will all say 'Aye, ' and if any one does notunderstand, I will be happy to explain. "

"I want to know, " said Phil Matlack, rising, "if one man asserts what youcall his individ'ality in such a way that it runs up agin another man's, and that second man ain't inclined to stand it, if that--"

"Oh, I assure you, " interrupted the bishop, "that that will be all right. I understand you perfectly, and the individualities will all run alongtogether without interfering with each other, and if one happens to get inthe way of another it will be gently moved aside. "

"Gently!" said Matlack, somewhat satirically. "Well, all right, it will bemoved aside. I am satisfied, if the rest are. "

"Now all in favor say 'Aye, '" said Corona. 

They all said "Aye, " except Mrs. Perkenpine, who said "Me. "

CHAPTER XIX

MARGERY'S BREAKFAST

Very early the next morning Margery pushed wide open the window of herstudio chamber. The sash was a large one, and opened outward on hinges. She looked out upon the dewy foliage, she inhaled the fragrance of themoist morning air, she listened to the song of some early birds, and then, being dressed for the day, she got on a chair, stepped on the window-sill, and jumped out. She walked quietly round the cabin and went out towardsthe lake. She had never seen the woods so early in the day. All the spacebetween the earth and the sky seemed filled with an intoxicating coolness. She took off her hat and carried it in her hand; the sun was not yet highenough to make it necessary to put anything between him and her. 

"This is what I am, " said Margery to herself as she stepped blithely on. "I never knew before what I am. I am really a dryad under difficulties. "

Presently, to her amazement and his amazement, she saw Martin. She wenttowards him. 

"Oh, Martin, " she said, "are you up so early?"

He smiled. "This is not early for me, " he answered. 

"And Mr. Matlack, is he up?"

"Oh yes, he is up, and gone off to attend to some business. "

"Well, really!" exclaimed Margery. "I thought I was the first one out inthe world to-day. And now, Martin, don't you want to do something for me?I did not think it would happen, but I am really dreadfully hungry, andcouldn't you give me my breakfast now, by myself, before anybody else? Iam not particular what I have--anything that is easy to get ready willdo--and I would like it down at the very edge of the lake. "

"You shall have it!" exclaimed Martin, eagerly. "I will get it ready foryou very soon, and will bring it to you. I know you like bread and butterand jam, and there is some cold meat, and I will boil you an egg and makesome coffee. "

"That will be lovely, " said Margery, "and I will go down by the lake andwait. I do believe, " she said to herself as she hurried away, "that thishermit business is the only sensible thing that ever came into the head ofthat classic statue with the glass fronts. "

Very soon Martin appeared with a rug, which he said she would want if shewere going to sit on the ground; and then he ran away, but soon came backwith the breakfast. Margery was surprised to see how tastefully it wasserved. 

"You could not have done it better, " she said, "if you had been a"--shewas about to say waiter, but as she gazed at the bright, handsome face ofthe young man she felt that it would hurt his feelings to use such a word, so she suddenly changed it to woman. 

"If it is done well, " he said, "it is not because I am like a woman, butbecause you are one. "

"What does that mean?" thought Margery; but she did not stop to consider. "Thank you very much, " she said. "Here is where I am going to eat, andnobody will disturb me. "

"Do you wish anything else?" he asked. 

"No, " said she. "I have everything I want; you know I take only one cup ofcoffee. "

He did know it; he knew everything she took, and as he felt that there wasno excuse for him to stay there any longer, he slowly walked away. 

The place Margery had chosen was a nice little nook for a nice littlehermit. It was a bit of low beach, very narrow, and flanked on the shoreside by a row of bushes, which soon turned and grew down to the water'sedge, thus completely cutting off one end of the beach. At the other endthe distance between the shrubbery and the water was but a few feet, sothat Margery could eat her breakfast without being disturbed by the restof the world. 

Reclining on the rug with the little tray on the ground before her, andsome green leaves and a few pale wild flowers peeping over the edge of itto see what she had for breakfast, Margery gave herself up to theenjoyment of life. 

"Each, one, " she said aloud; "I am one, and beautiful nature is another. Just two of us, and each, one. Go away, sir, " she said to a big buzzingcreature with transparent wings, "you are another, but you don't count. "

Arthur Raybold was perhaps the member of the party who was the bestsatisfied to be himself. He had vowed, as he left the camp-fire the nightbefore, that his sister had at last evolved an idea which had some value. Be himself? He should think so! He firmly believed that he was the onlyperson in the camp capable of truly acting his own part in life. 

Clyde had told him that on this morning he was going to move the tent overto their own camp, and though he had objected very forcibly, he found thatClyde was not to be moved, and that the tent would be. In an angry mood hehad been the first one of the Associated Hermits to assert hisindividuality. He made up his mind that he would not leave the immediateatmosphere of Margery. He would revolve about her in his waking hours andin his dreams, and in the latter case he would revolve in a hammock hungbetween two trees not far from his sister's tent; and as he was not onewho delayed the execution of his plans, he had put up the hammock thatnight, although his tent was still in Camp Rob. He had not slept verywell, because he was not used to repose in a hammock; and he had risenearly, for, though wrapped in a blanket, he had found himself a littlechilly. 

Starting out for a brisk walk to warm himself, he had not gone far beforehe thought he heard something which sounded like the clicking of knife andfork and dish. He stopped, listened, and then approached the source of thesounds, and soon stood at the open end of Margery's little beach. For afew moments she did not know he was there, so engrossed was her mind withthe far-away shadows on the lake, and with the piece of bread and jam sheheld in her hand. 

"Oh, happy Fates!" he exclaimed. "How have ye befriended me! Could I havebelieved such rare fortune was in store for me?"

At the sound of his voice Margery turned her head and started, and in thesame instant she was on her feet. 

"Margery, " he said, without approaching her, but extending his arms sothat one hand touched the bushes and the other reached over the water, "Ihave you a gentle prisoner. I consider this the most fortunate hour of mywhole existence. All I ask of you is to listen to me for ten minutes, andthen I will cease to stand guard at the entrance to your little haven, andalthough you will be free to go where you please, I know you will not goaway from me. "

Margery's face was on fire. She was so angry she could scarcely speak, butshe managed to bring some words to her lips to express her condition ofmind. 

"Mr. Raybold, " she cried, "if I ever hear any more of that horrid trashfrom you I will speak to Mr. Archibald, and have him drive you out of thiscamp. I haven't spoken to him before because I thought it would maketrouble and interfere with people who have not done anything but what isperfectly right, but this is the last time I am going to let you off, andI would like you to remember that. Now go away this instant, or else stepaside and let me pass. "

Raybold did not change his position, but with a smile of indulgentcondescension he remarked:

"Now, then, you are angry; but I don't mind that, and I am quite sure youdo not mean it. You see, you have never heard all that I have to say toyou. When I have fully spoken to you, then I have no fear--"

He had not finished his sentence, when Margery dashed into the water, utterly regardless of her clothes, and before the astonished intrudercould advance towards her she had rushed past him, and had run up on dryland a yard or two behind him. The water on the shelving beach was notmore than a foot deep, but her mad bounds made a splashing and aspattering of spray as if a live shark bad been dropped into the shallowwater. In a moment she had left the beach and was face to face withMartin, pale with fright. 

"I thought you had tumbled in!" he cried. "What on earth is the matter?"

She had no breath to answer, but she turned her head towards the lake, andas Martin looked that way he saw Raybold advancing from behind the bushes. It required no appreciable time for the young guide to understand thesituation. His whole form quivered, his hands involuntarily clinched, hisbrows knitted, and he made one quick step forward; but only one, forMargery seized him by the wrist. Without knowing what he was doing, hestruggled to free himself from her, but she was strong and held him fast. 

"I must go to my tent, " she gasped. "I am all wet. Now promise me that youwill not say a thing or do a thing until I see you again. Promise!"

For a moment he seemed undecided, and then he ceased his efforts to getaway, and said, "I promise. "

Margery dropped his arm and hurried towards the cabin, hoping earnestlythat the Archibalds were not yet up. 

"This is a gay and lively beginning for a hermit, " she thought, as shemade her way around the house, "and I don't see how on earth I am evergoing to get through that window again. There is nothing to stand on. Idid not expect to go back until they were all up. "

But when she reached the window there was a stout wooden stool placedbelow it. 

"Martin did that, " she thought, "while I was at my breakfast. He knew Imust have come through the window, and might want to go back that way. Ohdear!" she sighed. "But I am sure I can't help it. " And so, mounting fromthe stool to the window-sill, she entered her room. 

Having given his promise, Martin turned his back upon the sombre youngman, who, with folded arms and clouded brow, was stalking towards thetents at the other end of the camp. 

"If I look at him, " said Martin, "it may be that I could not keep mypromise. "

It was about half an hour afterwards, when Martin, still excited and stillpale, was getting ready for the general breakfast, forgetting entirelythat he was a hermit, and that some of the other hermits might havepeculiar ideas about their morning meal, that Phil Matlack arrived on thescene. Martin was very much engrossed in his own thoughts, but he couldnot repress an inquiring interest in his companion. 

"Well, " said he, "did you bounce him?"

Matlack made no answer, but began to cut out the top of a tin can. 

"I say, " repeated Martin, "did you bounce him, or did he go without it?"

Without turning towards the younger man, Matlack remarked: "I wasmistaken. That ain't fat; it's muscle. "

"You don't mean to say, " exclaimed Martin, in astonishment, "that hebounced you out of that camp!"

"I don't mean to say nothin', " was the reply, "except what I do say; andwhat I say is that that ain't fat; it's muscle. When I make a mistake Idon't mind standin' up and sayin' so. "

Martin could not understand the situation. He knew Matlack to be a man ofgreat courage and strength, and one who, if he should engage in a personalconflict, would not give up until he had done his very best. But theguide's appearance gave no signs of any struggle. His clothes were intheir usual order, and his countenance was quiet and composed. 

"Look here, " cried Martin, "how did you find out all that about thebishop?"

Matlack turned on him with a grim smile. "Didn't you tell me that day youwas talkin' to me about the boat that he was a tough sort of a fellow?"

"Yes, I did, " said the other. 

"Well, " said Matlack, "how did you find that out?"

Martin laughed. "I shouldn't wonder, " he said, "if we were about square. Well, if you will tell me how you found it out, I will tell you how Idid. "

"Go ahead, " said the other. 

"The long and short of my business with him, " said Martin, "was this: Iwent with him down to the lake, and there I gave him a piece of my mind;and when I had finished, he turned on me and grabbed me with his two handsand chucked me out into the water, just as if I had been a bag of bad mealthat he wanted to get rid of. When I got out I was going to fight him, buthe advised me not to, and when I took a look at him and remembered thefeel of the swing he gave me, I took his advice. Now what did he do toyou?"

"He didn't do nothin', " said Matlack. "When I got to the little tent hesleeps in, there he was sittin' in front of it, as smilin' as a basket ofchips, and he bade me good-mornin' as if I had been a tenant comin' to payhim his rent; and then he said that before we went on with the businessbetween us, there was some things he would like to show me, and he had 'emall ready. So he steps off to a place a little behind the tent, and therewas three great bowlders, whopping big stones, which he said he hadbrought out of the woods. I could hardly believe him, but there they was. 'You don't mean, ' says I, 'that you are goin' to fight with stones;because, if you are, you ought to give me a chance to get some, ' and Ithought to myself that I would pick up rocks that could be heaved. 'Ohno, ' says he, with one of them smiles of his--'oh no; I just want to openour conference with a little gymnastic exhibition. ' And so sayin', herolled up his shirt-sleeves--he hadn't no coat on--and he picked up one ofthem rocks with both hands, and then he gave it a swing with one hand, like you swing a ten-pin ball, and he sent that rock about thirty feet. 

"It nearly took my breath away, for if I had to move such a stone I'd wanta wheelbarrow. Then he took another of the rocks and hurled it right ontop of the first one, and it came down so hard that it split itself inhalf. And then he took up the third one, which was the biggest, and threwit nearly as far, but it didn't hit the others. 'Now, Mr. Matlack, ' sayshe, 'this is the first part of my little programme. I have only one or twomore things, and I don't want to keep you long. ' Then he went and got ahickory sapling that he'd cut down. It was just the trunk part of it, andmust have been at least three inches thick. He put the middle of it at theback of his neck, and then he took hold of the two ends with his hands andpulled forward, and, by George! he broke that stick right in half!

"Then says he, 'Would you mind steppin' down to the lake?' I didn't mind, and went with him, and when we got down to the water there was their boatdrawed up on the shore and pretty nigh full of water. 'Mr. Clyde broughtthis boat back the other day, ' says he, 'from a place where he left itsome distance down the lake, and I wonder he didn't sink before he gothere. We must try and calk up some of the open seams; but first we've gotto get the water out of her. ' So sayin', he squatted down on the ground infront of the boat and took hold of it, one hand on one side of the bow andone on the other, and then he gave a big twist, and just turned the boatclean over, water and all, so that it lay with its bottom up, and thewater running down into the lake like a little deluge. 

"'That ought to have been done long ago, ' says he, 'and I'll come downafter a while and calk it before the sun gets on it. ' Then he walked backto camp as spry as a robin, and then says he, 'Mr. Matlack, my littleexhibition is over, and so we'll go ahead with the business you proposed. 'I looked around, and says I: 'Do you find that little tent you sleep incomfortable? It seems to me as if your feet must stick out of it. ' 'Theydo, ' says he, 'and I sometimes throw a blanket over them to keep them dry. But we are goin' to make different arrangements here. Mr. Clyde and I willbring down his tent after breakfast, and if Mr. Raybold doesn't choose tooccupy it, Mr. Clyde says I may share it with him. At any rate, I'veengaged to attend to the cookin' and to things in general in this campdurin' the rest of the time we stay here. '

"'And so Mr. Clyde is tired of trespassin', is he?' says I. 'Yes, he is, 'says he; 'he's a high-minded young fellow, and doesn't fancy that sort ofthing. Mr. Raybold slept last night in a hammock, and if that suits him, he may keep it up. ' 'If I was you, ' says I, 'if he does come back to thecamp, I'd make him sleep in that little tent. It would fit him better thanit does you. ' 'Oh no, ' says he, 'I don't want to make no trouble. I'mwillin' to sleep anywhere. I'm used to roughin' it, and I could makemyself comfortable in any tent I ever saw. ' 'Well, ' says I, 'that was avery pretty exhibition you gave me, and I am much obliged to you, but Imust be goin' over to my camp to help get breakfast. ' 'If you see Mr. Clyde, ' says he, 'will you kindly tell him that I will come over and helphim with his tent in about an hour?' To which I said I would, and I left. Now then, hurry up. Them hermits will want their breakfasts. "

CHAPTER XX

MARTIN ASSERTS HIS INDIVIDUALITY

"Good-morning, " said Mr. Clyde, as he approached Mr. And Mrs. Archibald, seated opposite each other at their breakfast-table. "So you still eattogether? Don't ask me to join you; I have had my breakfast. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Archibald, "we did think that, as we were hermits, weought to eat in some separate, out-of-the-way fashion; but we could notthink of any, and as we were both hungry and liked the same things, weconcluded to postpone the assertion of our individualities. "

"And Miss Dearborn?" asked Clyde. 

"Oh, she had her breakfast long ago, so she told us, " said Mrs. Archibald. "I suppose she took some bread and jam, for I do not know what else shecould have had. "

"As for me, " said Clyde, "I thought I would do something of the sort. Ilike an early breakfast, and so I turned out, more than an hour ago andwent to look up Mrs. Perkenpine; and I might as well say, sir, that I amnow looking for the bishop to come and help me carry our tent back to ourown camp, where he is going to cook for us. I never wanted to be atrespasser on your premises, and I don't intend to be such any longer. "

"That's the right feeling, " said Mr. Archibald; "although, in fact, itdoesn't make any difference to us whether your party camps here or not. Atfirst I thought it would, but I find it does not. "

"By which he means, " said Mrs. Archibald, "that if you want to go away heis perfectly willing to have you stay, but if you don't want to go away hedoesn't like it, and would have you move. "

Clyde laughed. "I haven't anything to say for the others, " he answered, "but as long as I have a camp of my own I think I ought to live there. "

"But how about Mrs. Perkenpine?" asked Mrs. Archibald. "Did you find herwilling to wait on you, one at a time?"

"Not exactly, " said Clyde. "I discovered her, by her kitchen tent, hard atwork eating her own breakfast. I must have looked surprised, for she lostno time in telling me that she was a hermit, and was living for one personat a time--herself first--and that she was mighty glad to get a chance tohave her breakfast before anybody else, for she was always hungry andhated waiting. I looked at the table, and saw that she had the breakfastready for the whole party; so I said, 'I am a hermit too, and I am livingfor myself, and so I am going to sit down and eat. ' 'Squat, ' said she, anddown I sat; and I had the best meal of her cooking that I have yet tasted. I told her so, and she said she shouldn't wonder. 'Because, ' said she, 'Icooked this breakfast for myself--me, one--and as I wasn't thinkin' whatother people 'd like, I got things a little more tasty than common, Iguess. '"

"And what does she expect Miss Raybold and her brother to do?" asked Mrs. Archibald. 

"When she had finished she got up, " Clyde answered, "and went away, merelyremarking that the victuals were there, and when the others were ready forthem they might come and get them. "

"I hope, " said Mr. Archibald, "that Matlack will not fancy that sort of ahermit life. But as for me, I am greatly taken with the scheme. I think Ishall like it. Is Miss Raybold about yet?"

"I see nothing of her, " said Clyde, looking over towards her tent. 

"Good, " said Mr. Archibald, rising. "Harriet, if you want me, I shall bein my cave. "

"And where is that?" she asked. 

"Oh, I can't say exactly where it will be, " he answered, "but if you willgo down to the shore of the lake and blow four times on the dinner-hornI'll come to you, cave and all. I can easily pull it over the water. "

"You forget, " said Mrs. Archibald, with a smile, "that we are associatehermits. "

"No, I do not, " said her husband, "I remember it, and that is the reason Iam off before Miss Raybold emerges upon the scene. "

"I do not know, " said Mrs. Archibald to Clyde, "exactly how I am going toassert myself to-day, but I shall do it one way or the other; I am notgoing to be left out in the cold. "

Clyde smiled, but he had no suggestion to offer; his mind was filled withthe conjecture as to what sort of a hermit life Margery was going to lead, and if she had already begun it. But just then the bishop came up, andtogether they went to carry the tent back to Camp Roy. 

It was at least an hour afterwards, and Mrs. Archibald was comfortablyseated in the shade darning stockings, with an open book in her lap. Sometimes she would read a little in the book and then she would make somelong and careful stitches in the stocking, and then she would look abouther as if she greatly enjoyed combining her work and her recreation insuch a lovely place on such a lovely summer morning. During one of theseperiods of observation she perceived Corona Raybold approaching. 

"Good-morning, " said the elder lady. "Is this your first appearance?"

"Yes, " said Corona, with a gentle smile. "When I woke this morning I foundmyself to be an individual who liked to lie in bed and gaze out through anopen fold in my tent upon the world beyond, and so I lay and dozed andgazed, until I felt like getting up, and then I got up, and you cannotimagine how bright and happy I felt as I thought of what I had been doing. For one morning at least I had been true to myself, without regard toother people or what they might think about it. To-morrow, if I feel likeit, I shall rise at dawn, and go out and look at the stars struggling withAurora. Whatever my personal instincts happen to be, I shall be loyal tothem. Now how do you propose to assert your individuality?"

"Unfortunately, " said Mrs. Archibald, "I cannot do that exactly as I wouldlike to. If we had not promised my daughter and her husband that we wouldstay away for a month, I should go directly home and superintend myjelly-making and fruit-preserving; but as I cannot do that, I havedetermined to act out my own self here. I shall darn stockings and sew orread, and try to make myself comfortable and happy, just as I would if Iwere sitting on my broad piazza, at home. "

"Good!" said Corona. "I think it likely that you will be more true toyourself than any of us. Doubtless you were born to be the head of adomestic household, and if you followed your own inclination you would bethat if you were adrift with your family on a raft in the middle of theocean. Now I am going away to see what further suggestions my nature hasto offer me. What is Mr. Archibald doing?"

Mrs. Archibald smiled. She knew what Corona's nature would suggest if shemet a man who could talk, or rather, listen. "Oh, his nature has promptedhim to hie away to the haunts of game, and to stay there until he is halfstarved. "

Miss Raybold heaved a little sigh. "I see very few persons about here, "she said--"only the two guides, in fact. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Archibald, "the bishop has gone to help Mr. Clyde withhis tent. "

Corona moved slowly away, and as she walked her nature suggested that shewould better eat something, so she repaired to the scene of Mrs. Perkenpine's ordinary operations. There she found that good womanstretched flat on her back on the ground, fast asleep. Her face and bodywere shaded by some overhanging branches, but her great feet wereillumined and gilded by the blazing sun. On a camp table near by were theremains of the breakfast. It had been there for two or three hours. ArthurRaybold had taken what he wanted and had gone, and before composingherself for her nap Mrs. Perkenpine had thrown over it a piece ofmosquito-netting. 

Corona smiled. "Their natures are coming out beautifully, " she said. "Itreally does me good to see how admirably the scheme is unfolding itself. "She sat down and ate what she could find to her taste, but it was notmuch. "I shall send for some fruit and some biscuit and some other littlethings, " she thought, "that I can keep in my tent and eat when I please. That will suit me much better than the ordinary meals. " Then, withoutawakening Mrs. Perkenpine, she strolled away, directing her steps towardsCamp Roy. 

When Margery had gone to her room, and had changed her wet clothes, shewas thoroughly miserable. For some time she sat on the side of her littlecot, unwilling to go out, on account of a nervous fear that she might meetMr. Raybold. Of course, if he should again speak to her as he had done, she would immediately appeal to Mr. Archibald, but she did not want to dothis, for she had a very strong desire not to make any trouble ordivisions in the camp; so she lay down to think over the matter, and inless than two minutes she was asleep. Mrs. Archibald had come to call herto breakfast, but upon being told that she had been up ever so long, andhad had her breakfast, she left the girl to her nap. 

"I shall sleep here, " thought Margery, "until they have all gone to dowhatever it is they want to do, and then perhaps I may have a littlepeace. "

When she awoke it was nearly eleven o'clock, and she went immediately toher little side window, from which she could see the lake and a good dealof the camp-ground. The first thing which met her reconnoitering gaze wasa small boat some distance out on the lake. Its oars were revolvingslowly, something like a pair of wheels with one paddle each, and it wasoccupied by one person. This person was Arthur Raybold, who had found thebishop calking the boat, and as soon as this work was finished, hadmoodily declared that he would take a row in her. He had not yet had achance to row a boat which was in a decent condition. He wanted to bealone with his aspirations. He thought it would be scarcely wise toattempt to speak to Margery again that morning; he would give her time forher anger to cool. She was only a woman, and he knew women!

"It's that Raybold, " said Margery. "He knows no more about rowing than acat, and he's floating sideways down the lake. Good! Now I can go out andhope to be let alone. I don't know when he will ever get that boat backagain. Perhaps never. "

She was not a wicked girl, and she did not desire that the awkward rowermight never get back; but still she did not have that dread of an accidentwhich might have come over her had the occupant of the boat been a brotheror any one she cared very much about. She took a novel, of which, duringher whole stay in camp, she had read perhaps ten pages, and left thecabin, this time by the door. 

"How does your individuality treat you?" asked Mrs. Archibald, as Margeryapproached her. 

"Oh, horribly, so far, " was the answer; "but I think it is going to dobetter. I shall find some nice place where I can read and be undisturbed. I can think of nothing pleasanter such a morning as this. "

"I am very much mistaken in your nature, " thought Mrs. Archibald, "if thatis the sort of thing that suits you. "

"Martin, " said Margery, not in the least surprised that she should meetthe young guide within the next three minutes, "do you know of some reallynice secluded spot where I can sit and read, and not be bothered? I don'tmean that place where you hung the hammock. I don't want to go thereagain. "

Martin was pale, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "Miss Dearborn, " saidhe, "I think it is a wicked and a burning shame that you should be forcedto look for a hiding-place where you may hope to rest undisturbed if thatscoundrel in the boat out there should happen to fancy to come ashore. Butyou needn't do it. There is no necessity for it. Go where you please, sitwhere you please, and do what you please, and I will see to it that youare not disturbed. "

"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Margery. "That would never do. I know very wellthat you could keep him away from me, and I am quite sure that you wouldbe glad to do it, but there mustn't be anything of that kind. He is MissRaybold's brother and--and in a way one of our camping party, and I don'twant any disturbances or quarrels. "

Martin's breast heaved, and he breathed heavily. "I have no doubt you areright, " he said--"of course you are. But I can tell you this: if I seethat fellow troubling you again I'll kill him, or--"

"Martin! Martin!" exclaimed Margery. "What do you mean? What makes youtalk in this way?"

"What makes me?" he exclaimed, as if it were impossible to restrain hiswords. "My heart makes me, my soul makes me. I--"

"Your heart? Your soul?" interrupted Margery. "I don't understand. "

For a moment he looked at the astonished girl in silence, and then hesaid: "Miss Dearborn, it's of no use for me to try to hide what I feel. IfI hadn't got so angry I might have been able to keep quiet, but I can't doit now. If that man thinks he loves you, his love is like a grain of sandcompared to mine. "

"Yours?" cried Margery. 

"Yes, " said Martin, his face pallid and his eyes sparkling, "mine. You maythink it is an insult for me to talk this way, but love is love, and itwill spring up where it pleases; and besides, I am not the common sort ofa fellow you may think I am. After saying what I have said, I am bound tosay more. I belong to a good family, and am college bred. I am poor, and Ilove nature. I am working to make money to travel and become a naturalist. I prefer this sort of work because it takes me into the heart of nature. Iam not ashamed of what I am, I am not ashamed of my work, and my object inlife is a nobler one, I think, than the practice of the law, or a greatmany other things like it. "

Margery stood and looked at him with wide-open eyes. "Do you mean to say, "she said, "that you want to marry me? It would take years and years foryou to become naturalist enough to support a wife. "

"I have made no plans, " he said, quickly, "I have no purpose. I did notintend to tell you now that I love you, but since I have said that, I willsay also that with you to fight for there could be no doubt about mysuccess. I should be bound to succeed. It would be impossible for me tofail. As for the years, I would wait, no matter how many they should be. "

He spoke with such hot earnestness that Margery involuntarily drew herselfa little away from him. At this the flush went out of his face. 

"Oh, Miss Dearborn, " he exclaimed, "don't think that I am like that manout there! Don't think that I will persecute you if you don't wish to hearme; that I will follow you about and make your life miserable. If you sayto me that you do not wish to see me again, you will never see me again. Say what you please, and you will find that I am a gentleman. "

She could see that now. She felt sure that if she told him she did notwish ever to see him again he would never appear before her. But whatwould he do? She was not in the least afraid of him, but his fierceearnestness frightened her, not for herself, but for him. Suddenly athought struck her. 

"Martin, " said she, "I don't doubt in the least that what you have said tome about yourself is true. You are as good as other people, although youdo happen now to be a guide, and perhaps after a while you may be verywell off; but for all that you are a guide, and you are in Mr. Sadler'semployment, and Mr. Sadler's rights and powers are just like gas escapingfrom a pipe: they are everywhere from cellar to garret, so to speak, andyou couldn't escape them. It would be a bad, bad thing for you, Martin, ifhe were to hear that you make propositions of the kind you have made tothe ladies that he pays you to take out into the woods to guide and toprotect. "

Martin was on the point of a violent expostulation, but she stopped him. 

"Now I know what you are going to say, " she exclaimed, "but it isn't ofany use. You are in his employment, and you are bound to honor and torespect him; that is the way a guide can show himself to be a gentleman. "

"But suppose, " said Martin, quickly, "that he, knowing my family as hedoes, should think I had done wisely in speaking to you. "

A cloud came over her brow. It annoyed her that he should thus parry herthrust. 

"Well, you can ask him, " she said, abruptly; "and if he doesn't object, you can go to see my mother, when she gets home, and ask her. And herecomes Mr. Matlack. I think he has been calling you. Now don't say anotherword, unless it is about fish. "

But Matlack did not come; he stopped and called, and Martin went to him. 

Margery walked languidly towards the woods and sat down on the projectingroot of a large tree. Then leaning back against the trunk, she sighed. 

"It is a perfectly dreadful thing to be a girl, " she said; "but I am gladI did not speak to him as I did to Mr. Raybold. I believe he would havejumped into the lake. "

CHAPTER XXI

THE INDIVIDUALITY OF PETER SADLER

"Martin, " said Matlack, sharply, before the young man had reached him, "itseems to me that you think that you have been engaged here as lady's-maid, but there's other things to do besides teaching young women about treesand fishes. If you think, " continued Matlack, when the two had reached thewoodland kitchen, "that your bein' a hermit is goin' to let you throw allthe work on me, you're mistaken. There's a lot of potatoes that's got tobe peeled for dinner. "

Without a word Martin sat down on the ground with a pan of potatoes infront of him and began to work. Had he been a proud crusader setting forthto fight the Saracens his blood could not have coursed with greater warmthand force, his soul could not have more truly spurned the earth and allthe common things upon it. What he had said to Margery had made him feelennobled. If Raybold had that instant appeared before him with somejeering insult, Martin would have pardoned him with lofty scorn; and yethe peeled potatoes, and did it well. But his thoughts were not upon hiswork; they were upon the future which, if he proved himself to be the manhe thought himself to be, might open before him. When he had finished thepotatoes he put the pan upon a table and stood near by, deep in thought. 

"Yes, " said he to himself, "I should go now. After what I have said to herI cannot stay here and live this life before her. I would wait on her withbended knee at every step, but with love for her in my soul I cannot washdishes for other people. I have spoken, and now I must act; and thequicker the better. If all goes well I may be here again, but I shall notcome back as a guide. " Then a thought of Raybold crossed his mind, but heput it aside. Even if he stayed here he could not protect her, for she hadshown that she did not wish him to do it in the only way he could do it, and he felt sure, too, that any further annoyance would result in anappeal to Mr. Archibald. 

"Well, " said Matlack, sharply, "what's the matter with you? Don't youintend to move?"

"Yes, " said Martin, turning quickly, "I do intend to move. I am going toleave this camp just as soon as I can pack my things. "

"And where in the name of thunder are you goin' to?"

"I'm going to Sadler's, " said Martin. 

"What for?"

"On my own business, " was the reply. 

Matlack looked at him for a moment suspiciously. "Have you got anycomplaints to make of me?" he said. 

"No, " said Martin, promptly, "not one; but I have affairs on hand whichwill take me off immediately. "

"Before dinner?" asked Matlack. 

"Yes, " said the other, "before dinner; now. "

"Go ahead then, " said Matlack, putting some sticks of wood into the stove;"and tell Sadler that if he don't send me somebody before supper-time tohelp about this camp, he'll see me. I'll be hanged, " he said to himself, as he closed the door of the stove, "if this isn't hermitism with avengeance. I wonder who'll be the next one to cut and run; most likely itwill be Mrs. Perkenpine. "

Early in the afternoon, warm and dusty, Martin presented himself beforePeter Sadler, who was smoking his pipe on the little shaded piazza at theback of the house. 

"Oh, ho!" said Peter. "How in the name of common-sense did you happen toturn up at this minute? This is about as queer a thing as I've known oflately. What did you come for? Sit down. "

"Mr. Sadler, " said Martin, "I have come here on most important business. "

"Lake dry?" asked Peter. 

"It is a matter, " said Martin, "which concerns myself; and if all thelakes in the world were dry, I would not be able to think about them, sofull is my soul of one thing. "

"By the Lord Harry, " said Peter, "let's have it, quick!"

In a straightforward manner, but with an ardent vehemence which he couldnot repress, Martin stated his business with Peter Sadler. He told him howhe loved Margery, what he had said to her, and what she had said to him. 

"And now, " said the young man, "I have come to ask your permission toaddress her; but whether you give it or not I shall go to her mother andspeak to her. I know her address, and I intend to do everything in anhonorable way. "

Peter Sadler put down his pipe and looked steadfastly at the young man. "Iwish to Heaven, " said he, "that there was a war goin' on! I'd write aletter to the commander-in-chief and let you take it to him, and I'd tellhim you was the bravest man between Hudson Bay and Patagonia. By George! Ican't understand it! I can't understand how you could have the cheek, theunutterable brass, to come here and ask me--me, Peter Sadler--to let youcourt one of the ladies in a campin'-party of mine. And, what's more, Ican't understand how I can sit here and hear you tell me that tale withoutpicking up a chair and knocking you down with it. "

"Mr. Sadler, " said Martin, rising, "I have spoken to you fairly andsquarely, and if that's all you've got to say, I will go. "

"Sit down!" roared Peter, bringing his hand upon the table as if he woulddrive it's legs through the floor. "Sit down, and listen to what I have tosay to you. It's the strangest thing that ever happened to me that I amnot more angry with you than I am; but I can't understand it, and I passit by. Now that you are seated again, I will make some remarks on my side. Do you see that?" said he, picking up a letter on the table. "Do you seewho it is addressed to?"

"To me!" exclaimed Martin, in surprise. 

"Yes, it's to you, " said Peter, "and I wrote it, and I intended to send itby Bill Hammond this afternoon. That's the reason I was surprised when Isaw you here. But I'm not goin' to give it to you; I'd rather tell youwhat's in it, now you are here. Before I knew you were the abjectninnyhammer that you have just told me you are I had a good opinion ofyou, and thought that you were cut out to make a first-class traveller andexplorer--the sort of a fellow who could lead a surveying expeditionthrough the wilderness, or work up new countries and find out what theyare made of and what's in them. Only yesterday I heard of a chance thatought to make you jump, and this morning I wrote to you about it. A friendof mine, who's roughed it with me for many a day, is goin' to take anexpedition down into New Mexico in the interests of a railroad and minin'company. They want to know everything about the country--the game, fish, trees, and plants, as well as the minerals--and it struck me that if youare not just the kind of man they want you could make yourself so in avery short time. They'd pay you well enough, and you'd have a chance todip into natural history, and all that sort of thing, that you had noreason to expect for a dozen years to come, if it ever came. If such achance had been offered to me at your age I wouldn't have changed lotswith a king. All you've got to do is to pack up and be off. The partystarts from New York in just three days; I'll give you a letter to JoeHendricks, and that'll be all you want. He knows me well enough to takeyou without a word. If you haven't got money enough saved to fit yourselfout for the trip I'll lend you some, and you can pay me back when they payyou. You can take the train this afternoon and maybe you can see Hendricksto-night. So pack up what you want and leave what you don't want, and I'lltake care of it. I'll write to Hendricks now. "

Many times did the face of Martin flush and pale as he listened. A visionof Paradise had been opened before him, but he felt that he must shut hiseyes. 

"Mr. Sadler, " he said, "you are very kind. You offer me a great thing--athing which two weeks ago I should have accepted in the twinkling of aneye, and would have thanked you for all the rest of my life; but I cannottake it now. With all my heart I love a woman; I have told her so, and Iam now going on the path she told me to take. I cannot turn aside fromthat for any prospects in the world. "

Peter Sadler's face grew red, and then it grew black, and then it turnedred again, and finally resumed its ordinary brown. 

"Martin Sanders, " said he, speaking quietly, but with one hand fastenedupon the arm of his chair with a grasp which a horse could not haveloosened, "if you are cowardly enough and small enough and paltry enoughto go to a girl who is living in peace and comfort and ask her to marryyou, when you know perfectly well that for years to come you could notgive her a decent roof over her head, and that if her family wanted her tolive like a Christian they would have to give her the money to do it with;and if you are fool enough not to know that when she sent you first to meand then to her mother she was tryin' to get rid of you without hurtin'your feelin's, why, then, I want you to get out of my sight, and thequicker the better. But if you are not so low down as that, go to yourroom and pack up your bag. The coach will start for the train at threeo'clock, and it is now nearly half-past two; that will just give me timeto write to Hendricks. Go!"

Martin rose. Whatever happened afterwards, he must go now. It seemed tohim as if the whole world had suddenly grown colder; as if he had beenfloating in a fog and had neared an iceberg. Could it be possible that shehad spoken, as she had spoken, simply to get rid of him? He could notbelieve it. No one with such honest eyes could speak in that way; and yethe did not know what to believe. 

In any case, he would go away in the coach. He had spoken to Sadler, andnow, whether he spoke to any one else or not, the sooner he left thebetter. 

When he came to take the coach, Peter Sadler, who had rolled himself tothe front of the house, handed him the letter he had written. 

"I believe you are made of the right kind of stuff, " he said, "althoughyou've got a little mouldy by bein' lazy out there in the woods, butyou're all right now; and what you've got to do is to go ahead with awill, and, take my word for it, you'll come out on top. Do you want anymoney? No? Very well, then, goodbye. You needn't trouble yourself to writeto me, I'll hear about you from Hendricks; and I'd rather know what hethinks about you than what you think about yourself. "

"How little you know, " thought Martin, as he entered the coach, "what I amor what I think about myself. As if my purpose could be changed by wordsof yours!" And he smiled a smile which would have done justice to ArthurRaybold. The chill had gone out of him; he was warm again. 

On the train he read the letter to Hendricks which Peter Sadler had givento him unsealed. It was a long letter, and he read it twice. Then he satand gazed out of the window at the flying scenery for nearly half an hour, after which he read the letter again. Then he folded it up and put it intohis pocket. 

"If she had given me the slightest reason to hope, " he said to himself, "how easy it would be to tear this letter into scraps. "

Now an idea came into his mind. If he could see her mother quickly, and ifshe should ignore his honorable intentions and refuse to give him theopportunity to prove that he was worthy of a thought from her and herdaughter, then it might not be too late to fall back on Peter Sadler'sletter. But he shook his head; that would be dishonorable and unworthy ofhim. 

He shut his eyes; he could not bear to look at the brightness of the worldoutside the window of the car. Under his closed lids there came to himvisions, sometimes of Margery and sometimes of the forests of New Mexico. Sometimes the visions were wavering, uncertain, and transitory, and againthey were strong and vivid--so plain to him that he could almost hear theleaves rustle as some wild creature turned a startled look upon him. 

That night he delivered his letter to Mr. Hendricks. 

CHAPTER XXII

A TRANQUILLIZING BREEZE AND A HOT WIND

After Martin had left her, Margery sat on the root of the tree until Mr. Clyde came up and said he had been wondering what had become of her. 

"I have been wondering that, myself, " she said. "At least, I have beenwondering what is going to become of me. "

"Don't you intend to be a hermit?" said he. 

She shook her head. "I don't think it is possible, " she answered. "Thereis no one who is better satisfied to be alone, and who can make herselfhappier all by herself, and who, in all sorts of ways, can get alongbetter without other people than I can, and yet other people arecontinually interfering with me, and I cannot get away from them. "

Clyde smiled. "That is a pretty plain hint, " he said. "I suppose I mightas well take it, and go off to some hermitage of my own. "

"Oh, nonsense!" said Margery. "Don't be so awfully quick in coming toconclusions. I do feel worried and troubled and bothered, and I want someone to talk to; not about things which worry me, of course, but aboutcommon, ordinary things, that will make me forget. "

A slight shade came over the face of Mr. Clyde, and he seated himself onthe ground near Margery. "It is a shame, " said he, "that you should beworried. What is it in this peaceable, beautiful forest troubles you?"

"Did you ever hear of a paradise without snakes?" she asked. "The verybeauty of it makes them come here. "

"I have never yet known any paradise at all, " he replied. "But can't youtell me what it is that troubles you?"

Margery looked at him with her clear, large eyes. "I'll tell you, " shesaid, "if you will promise not to do a single thing without mypermission. "

"I promise that, " said Clyde, eagerly. 

"I am troubled by people making love to me. "

"People!" exclaimed Clyde, with a puzzled air. 

"Yes, " said she. "Your cousin is one of them. "

"I might have supposed that; but who on earth can be the other one?"

"That is Martin, " said Margery. 

For a moment Mr. Clyde did not seem to understand, and then he exclaimed:"You don't mean the young man who cuts wood and helps Matlack?"

"Yes, I do, " she answered. "And you need not shut your jaw hard and grityour teeth that way. That is exactly what he did when he found out aboutMr. Raybold. It is of no use to get angry, for you can't do anythingwithout my permission; and, besides, I tell you that if I were condemnedby a court to be made love to, I would much rather have Martin make itthan Mr. Raybold. Martin is a good deal more than a guide; he has a goodeducation, and would not be here if it were not for his love of nature. Heis going to make nature his object in life, and there is something noblein that; a great deal better than trying to strut about on the stage. "

"And those two have really been making love to you?" asked Clyde. 

"Yes, really, " she answered. "You never saw people more in earnest in allyour life. As for Mr. Raybold, he was as earnest as a cat after a bird. Hemade me furiously angry. Martin was different. He is just as earnest, buthe is more of a gentleman; and when I told him what I wanted him to do, hesaid he would do it. But there is no use in telling your cousin what Iwant him to do. He is determined to persecute me and make me miserable, and there is no way of stopping it, except by making a quarrel between himand Uncle Archibald. It is a shame!" she went on, "Who could have thoughtthat two people would have turned up to disturb me in this way. "

"Margery, " said Mr. Clyde, and although he called her by her Christianname she took no notice of it, "you think you have too many lovers: butyou are mistaken. You have not enough; you ought to have three. "

She looked at him inquiringly. 

"Yes, " he said, quickly, "and I want to be the third. "

"And so make matters three times as bad as they were at first?" sheasked. 

"Not at all, " said he. "When you have chosen one of them, he could easilykeep away the two others. "

"Do you mean, " said Margery, "that if I were to agree to have three, andthen, if I were to ask you to do it, you would go away quietly with one ofthe others and leave me in peace with the third one?"

Mr. Clyde half smiled, but instantly grew serious again, and a flush cameon his face. "Margery, " said he, "I cannot bear trifling any more aboutthis. No matter what anybody has said to you, whether it is any one inthis camp or any one out of it, there is not a man in this world who--"

"Oh, Mr. Clyde, " interrupted Margery, "you must not sit there and speak tome in such an excited way. If any one should see us they would think wewere quarrelling. Let us go down to the lake; the air from the water iscool and soothing. "

Together they walked from under the shade of the tree, and so wended theirway that it brought them to a mass of shrubbery which edged the water alittle distance down the lake. On the other side of this shrubbery was apretty bank, which they had seen before. 

"It always tranquillizes me, " said Margery, as they stood side by side onthe bank, "to look out over the water. Doesn't it have that effect onyou?"

"No!" exclaimed Clyde. "It does not tranquillize me a bit. Nothing couldtranquillize me at a moment like this. Margery, I want you to know that Ilove you. I did not intend to tell you so soon, but what you have saidmakes it necessary. I have loved you ever since I met you at PeterSadler's, and, no matter what you say about it, I shall love you to theend of my life. "

"Even if I should send you away with one of the others?"

"Yes; no matter what you did. "

"That would be wrong, " she said. 

"It doesn't matter. Right or wrong, I'd do it. "

Margery gave him a glance from which it would have been impossible toeliminate all signs of admiration. "And if I were to arrange itotherwise, " she said, "would you undertake to keep the others away?"

There was no answer to this question, but in a minute afterwards Clydeexclaimed: "Do you think any one would dare to come near you if they sawyou now?"

"Hardly, " said Margery, raising her head from his shoulder and looking upinto his sparkling eyes. "Really, Harrison, you ought not to speak in sucha loud voice. If Aunt Harriet were to hear you she might dare to come. "

Margery was late to dinner, although the horn was blown three times. 

Much to the surprise of his wife, Mr. Archibald returned to camp about anhour before dinner. 

"How is this?" she exclaimed. "Wasn't the fishing good?"

"I have had a disagreeable experience, " he said, "and I will tell youabout it. I was fishing in a little cove some distance down the lake andhaving good sport, when I heard a thumping, and looking around I sawRaybold in a boat rowing towards me. I suppose he thought he was rowing, but he was really floating with the current; but as he neared me hesuddenly pulled his boat towards me with such recklessness that I wasafraid he would run into me. I considered his rowing into the cove to be apiece of bad manners, for of course it would spoil my fishing, but I hadno idea he actually intended to lay alongside of me. This he did, however, and so awkwardly that his boat struck mine with such force that it halftipped it over. Then he lay hold of my gunwale, and said he had somethingto say to me. 

"I was as angry as if a man in the street had knocked my hat down over myeyes and said that he did so in order to call my attention to asubscription paper. But this indignation was nothing to what I felt whenthe fellow began to speak. I cannot repeat his words, but he stated hisobject at once, and said that as this was a good opportunity to speak tome alone, he wished to ask me to remove what he called the utterly uselessembargo which I had placed upon him in regard to Margery. He said it wasuseless because he could not be expected to give up his hopes and hisplans simply because I objected to them; and he went on to say that if Iunderstood him fully, and if Margery understood him, he did not believethat either of us would object. And then he actually asked me to use myinfluence with her to make her listen to him. From what he said, I am surehe has been speaking to her. I did not let him finish, but turned andblazed at him in words as strong as would come to me. I ordered him neverto speak to me again or show himself in my camp, and told him that if hedid either of these things he would do them at his peril; and then, forfear he might say something which would make me lose control of myself, Ijerked up my anchor and rowed away from him. I didn't feel like fishingany more, and so I came back. "

"His behavior is shameful, " said Mrs. Archibald. "And what is more, it isridiculous, for Margery would not look at him. What sort of a man does hethink you are, to suppose that you would give your permission to any one, no matter who he might be, to offer marriage to a young lady in yourcharge? But what are you going to do about it? I think it very likely hewill come to this camp, and he may speak to you. "

"In that case I shall have him driven out, " said Mr. Archibald, "as if hewere a drunken vagabond. Personally I shall have nothing to do with him, but I shall order my guides to eject him. "

"I hope that may not be necessary, " said his wife. "It would make badfeeling, and deeply wound his sister, for it would be the same thing asputting her out. She talks too much, to be sure, but she is a lady, andhas treated us all very courteously. I wish we could get through the restof our stay here without any disturbance or bad feeling. "

"I wish so too, with all my heart, " said her husband. "And the only thingnecessary to that end is that that ass Raybold shall keep out of mysight. "

It was about two o'clock that afternoon, and Mrs. Archibald, under hertree, her basket of stockings all darned and her novel at its culminatingpoint of interest, was the only visible occupant of Camp Rob, when CoronaRaybold came walking towards her, an obvious purpose in her handsome face, which was somewhat flushed by exercise. 

"I do not think, " she said, as soon as she was near enough for Mrs. Archibald to hear her, "that the true purpose and intention of our plan isproperly understood by all of the party. I think, after some explanation, everything will go well, but I have been endeavoring for the lasthalf-hour to find Mrs. Perkenpine, and have utterly failed. I am veryhungry, but I can discover nothing to eat. All our stores appear to beabsolutely raw, or in some intermediate state of crudity. I intend toorder some provisions in cans or boxes which will be at all timesavailable, but I have not done so yet, and so I have come over to speak toyou about the matter. Did your guides prepare your dinner as usual?"

"Oh yes, " said Mrs. Archibald. "A hermit life seems to make no differencewith Mr. Matlack. We become associates at meal-times, but, as you see, wehave separated again. "

"I must instil into Mrs. Perkenpine's mind, " said Corona, "that, in orderthoroughly to act out her own nature, she must cook and do other things ofa domestic character. Of course she will do those things in her own way;that is to be expected; but she must do them. It is impossible to imaginea woman of her class whose soul is not set more or less upon domesticaffairs. I will instance Mr. Matlack. His nature belongs to the woods andthe out-of-door world, and that nature prompts him to cook what heshoots. "

Mrs. Archibald laughed. "I think his nature is a very good one, " she said, "and I will go with you to find him and see if he cannot give you aluncheon, if not a dinner. "

"Thank you very much, " said Corona; "but indeed I do not wish to troubleyou. I will go to him myself. You are very kind, but it is not in theleast degree necessary for you to accompany me. A cup of tea and somelittle trifle is all I shall ask him for. "

For a moment Mrs. Archibald hesitated, and then she said, "As we arehermits, I suppose we must not keep together any more than we can help, and so I will let you go alone. "

Corona found Phil Matlack by his kitchen tent, busily engaged in rubbingthe inside of a large kettle. He was not in a good humor. The departure ofMartin had thrown all the work of his camp upon him, and now theappearance of a person from another camp requesting to be fed aroused himto absolute anger. He did not scold, for it would have been impossible tolook at that beautiful and imperturbable face and say hard words to it. Hedid not refuse the cup of tea or the bread-and-butter for which he wasasked, and he even added some cold meat; but he indignantly made up hismind that he would stand no more of this nonsense, and that if necessaryhe would go to Sadler and throw up the job. He had not engaged to cook forthree camps. 

[Illustration: "'HAVEN'T TRIED IT'"]

Miss Raybold did not appear to notice his state of mind, and ate heartily. She thought it was fortunate that he happened to have the kettle on thestove, and she asked him how he liked the hermit life--the living forhimself alone. 

"Haven't tried it, " he answered, curtly. 

"I understand, " said Corona, "you have had to live too much for otherpeople; but it is too soon to expect our plan to run smoothly. In a shorttime, however, we shall be better able to know our own natures and showthem to others. "

"Oh, I can do that, " said he; "and I am goin' to, precious soon. "

"I have no doubt of it, " she answered. "And now can you tell me where Mr. Archibald has gone? I did not see him this morning, and there are somematters I wish to speak to him about. "

"No, miss, " said Matlack, promptly, "I don't know where he is. He's a realhermit. He's off by himself, most likely miles away. "

Corona reflected. "Mr. --the bishop? Have you seen him? He may be ableto--"

The guide grinned grimly. He had seen the man of muscle--notfat--conversing that morning with Corona, and an hour afterwards he hadseen him, not in the same place, but in the same companionship, and itgave him a certain pleasure to know that the man who could heave rocks andbreak young trees could not relieve himself from the thralls of the ladyof the flowing speech. 

"The bishop?" said he. "Don't you know where he went to?"

"He left me, " she answered, "because he was obliged to go to preparedinner for my brother and Mr. Clyde; but he is not in Camp Roy now, for Iwent there to look for Mrs. Perkenpine. "

"Well, " said the wicked Matlack, pointing to the spot where, not longbefore, Margery had found a tranquillizing breeze, "I saw him going alongwith a book a little while ago, and I think he went down to the shore, just beyond that clump of bushes over there. He seems to be a man wholikes readin', which isn't a bad thing for a hermit. "

"Thank you, " said Miss Raybold, rising. "I do not care for anything more. You are very kind, and I am quite sure I shall not have to trouble youagain. To-morrow everything will be running smoothly. "

Matlack looked at her as she quietly walked away. "She's a pretty sort ofa hermit, " he said to himself. "If she really had to live by herself she'dcut out a wooden man and talk to it all day. It won't be long before sheaccidentally stumbles over that big fellow with his book. "

CHAPTER XXIII

MRS. PERKENPINE FINDS OUT THINGS ABOUT HERSELF

The mind of the guide was comforted and relieved that he had got thebetter of the bishop in one way, although he could not do it in another. But he did not relinquish his purpose of putting an end to the nonsensewhich made him do the work of other people, and as soon as he had set hiskitchen in order he started out to find Mrs. Perkenpine. A certain amountof nonsense from the people in camp might have to be endured, but nonsensefrom Mrs. Perkenpine was something about which Peter Sadler would have aword to say. 

Matlack was a good hunter. He could follow all sorts of tracks--rabbittracks, bird tracks, deer tracks, and the tracks of big ungainlyshoes--and in less than half an hour he had reached a cluster ofmoss-covered rocks lying some distance back in the woods, and approachedby the bed of a now dry stream. Sitting on one of these rocks, her backagainst a tree, her straw hat lying beside her, and her dishevelled hairhanging about her shoulders, was Mrs. Perkenpine, reading a newspaper. Atthe sound of his footsteps she looked up. 

"Well, I'll be bound!" she said. "If I'd crawl into a fox-hole I expectyou'd come and sniff in after me. "

Matlack stood and looked at her for a moment. He could not help smiling atthe uncomfortable manner in which she was trying to make herselfcomfortable on those rough rocks. 

"I'll tell you what it is, Mrs. Perkenpine, " he said, "you'll get yourselfinto the worst kind of a hole if you go off this way, leavin' everythingat sixes and sevens behind you. "

"It's my nater, " said she. "I'm findin' it out and gittin' it ready toshow to other people. You're the fust one that's seed it. How do you likeit?"

"I don't like it at all, " said the guide, "and I have just come to tellyou that if you don't go back to your tent and cook supper to-night andattend to your business, I'll walk over to Sadler's, and tell Peter tosend some one in your place. I'm goin' over there anyway, if he don't senda man to take Martin's place. "

"Peter Sadler!" ejaculated Mrs. Perkenpine, letting her tumbled newspaperfall into her lap. "He's a man that knows his own nater, and lets otherpeople see it. He lives his own life, if anybody does. He's individdledown to the heels, and just look at him! He's the same as a king. I tellyou, Phil Matlack, that the more I knows myself, just me, the more I'mtickled. It seems like scootin' round in the woods, findin' all sorts offunny hoppin' things and flowers that you never seed before. Why, it'ain't been a whole day since I begun knowin' myself, and I've found outlots. I used to think that I liked to cook and clean up, but I don't; Ihate it. "

Matlack smiled, and taking out his pipe, he lighted it and sat down on arock. 

"I do believe, " he said, "that you are the most out and out hermit of thewhole lot; but it won't do, and if you don't get over your objections tocookin' you'll have to walk out of these woods to-morrow. "

Mrs. Perkenpine sat and looked at her companion a few moments withoutgiving any apparent heed to his remarks. 

"Of course, " said she, "it isn't only findin' out what you be yourself, but it's lettin' other people see what you be. If you didn't do that itwould be like a pot a-b'ilin' out in the middle of a prairie, with nobodynearer nor a hundred miles. "

"It would be the same as if it hadn't b'iled, " remarked Matlack. 

"That's jest it, " said she, "and so I ain't sorry you come along, Phil, so's I can tell you some things I've found out about myself. One of themis that I like to lie flat on my back and look up at the leaves of thetrees and think about them. "

"What do you think?" asked Matlack. 

"I don't think nothin', " said she. "Just as soon as I begin to look atthem wrigglin' in the wind, and I am beginnin' to wonder what it is Ithink about them, I go slam bang to sleep, and when I wake up and try tothink again what it is I think, off I go again. But I like it. If I don'tknow what it is I think, I ought to know that I don't know it. That's whatI call bein' really and truly a hermick. "

"What else did you find out?" inquired Matlack. 

"I found out, " she answered, with animation, "that I admire to readanecdotes. I didn't know I cared a pin for anecdotes until I took tohermickin'. Now here's this paper; it came 'round the cheese, and it's gota good many anecdotes scattered about in it. Let me read one of them toyou. It's about a man who made his will and afterwards was a-drivin' ahorse along a road, and the horse got skeered and ran over his executor, who was takin' a walk. Then he sung out, 'Oh, bless my soul!' says he. ButI'll read you the rest if I can find it. "

"Never mind about the anecdote, " said Matlack, who knew very well that itwould take Mrs. Perkenpine half an hour to spell out twenty lines in anewspaper. "What I want to know is if you found out anything aboutyourself that's likely to give you a boost in the direction of thatcookin'-stove of yourn. "

Mrs. Perkenpine was a woman whose remarks did not depend upon the remarksof others. "Phil Matlack, " said she, gazing fixedly at his pipe, "if I hada man I'd let him smoke just as much as he pleased and just where hepleased. He could smoke afore he got up, and he could smoke at his meals, and he could smoke after he went to bed, and, if he fancied that sort ofthing, he could smoke at family prayers; it wouldn't make no difference tome, and I wouldn't say a word to him agin' it. If that was hisindividdlety, I'd say viddle. "

"And how about everything else?" asked Matlack. "Would you tell him tocook his own victuals and mend his clothes accordin' to his own nater?"

"No, sir, " said she, striking with her expansive hand the newspaper in herlap--"no, sir. I'd get up early in the mornin', and cook and wash and bakeand scour. I'd skin the things he shot, and clean his fish, and dig baitif he wanted it. I'd tramp into the woods after him, and carry the gun andthe victuals and fishin'-poles, and I'd set traps and row a boat and buildfires, and let him go along and work out his own nater smokin' or in anyother way he was born to. That's the biggest thing I've found out aboutmyself. I never knowed, until I began, this mornin', explorin' of my ownnater, what a powerful hard thing it is, when I'm thinkin' of my ownindividdlety, to keep somebody else's individdlety from poppin' up infront of it, and so says I to myself, 'If I can think of both themindividdleties at the same time it will suit me fust-rate. ' And when youcome along I thought I'd let you know what sort of a nater I've got, forit ain't likely you'd ever find it out for yourself. And now that we're inthat business--"

"Hello!" cried Matlack, springing to his feet. "There is somebody callin'me. Who's there?" he shouted, stepping out into the bed of the stream. 

A call was now heard, and in a few moments the bishop appeared somedistance below. 

"Mr. Matlack, " he said, "there's a man at your camp inquiring for you. Hecame from Sadler's, and I've been looking high and low for you. "

"A man from Sadler's, " said Matlack, turning to Mrs. Perkenpine, "and Imust be off to see him. Remember what I told you about the supper. " And sosaying, he walked rapidly away. 

Out in the open Matlack found the bishop. "Obliged to you for lookin' meup, " he said, "it's a pity to give you so much trouble. "

"Oh, don't mention it!" exclaimed the bishop. "You cannot understand, perhaps, not knowing the circumstances, but I assure you I never was moreobliged to any one than to that man who wants to see you and couldn't findyou. There was no one else to look for you, and I simply had to go. "

"You are not goin' to walk back to camp?" inquired Matlack. 

"No, " replied the bishop, "now that I am here, I think I will go up thelake and try to find a very secluded spot in the shade and take a nap. "

The guide smiled as he walked away. "Don't understand!" said he. "You'vegot the boot on the wrong leg. "

Arrived at his tent, Matlack found Bill Hammond, a young man in Sadler'sservice, who informed him that that burly individual had sent Martin awayin the stage-coach, and had ordered him to come and take his place. 

"All right, " said Matlack. "I guess you're as good as he was, and so youcan settle down to work. By-the-way, do you know that we are all hermitshere?"

"Hermits?" said the other. "What's that?"

"Why, hermits, " said Matlack, "is individ'als who get up early in themornin' and attend to their own business just as hard as they can, withoutlookin' to the right or left, until it's time to go to bed. "

The young man looked at him in some surprise. "There's nothing so veryuncommon in that, " said he. 

"No, " replied the guide, "perhaps there ain't. But as you might hear themtalkin' about hermits here, I thought I'd tell you just what sort ofthings they are. "

CHAPTER XXIV

A DISSOLVING AUDIENCE

When a strange young man assisted Matlack at the supper-table thatevening, Mr. Archibald asked what had become of Martin. 

"Peter Sadler has sent him away, " answered the guide. "I don't know wherehe sent him or what he sent him for. But he's a young man who's above thissort of business, and so I suppose he's gone off to take up somethingthat's more elevated. "

"I am sorry, " said Mrs. Archibald, "for I liked him. "

Mr. Archibald smiled. "This business of insisting upon our ownindividualities, " he said, "seems to have worked very promptly in hiscase. I suppose he found out he was fitted for something better than aguide, and immediately went off to get that better thing. "

"That's about the size of it, " said Matlack. 

Margery said nothing. Her heart sank. She could not help feeling that whatshe had said to the young man had been the cause of his sudden departure. Could he have done such a thing, she thought, as really to go and ask Mr. Sadler, and, having found he did not mind, could he have gone to see hermother? Her appetite for her supper departed, and she soon rose andstrolled away, and as she strolled the thought came again to her that itwas a truly dreadful thing to be a girl. 

Having received no orders to the contrary, Matlack, with his newassistant, built and lighted the camp-fire. Some of the hermits took thisas a matter of course, and some were a little surprised, but one by onethey approached; the evening air was beginning to be cool, and thevicinity of the fire was undoubtedly the pleasantest place in camp. Soonthey were all assembled but one, and Mrs. Archibald breathed freer whenshe found that Arthur Raybold was not there. 

"I am delighted, " said Corona, as soon as she took her usual seat, whichwas a camp-chair, "to see you all gather about the fire. I was afraid thatsome of you might think that because we are hermits we must keep away fromeach other all the time. But we must remember that we are associatehermits, and so should come together occasionally. I was going to saysomething to the effect that some of us may have misunderstood the truemanner and intent of the assertions of our individualities, but I do notnow believe that this is necessary. "

"Do you mean by all that, " said Mrs. Perkenpine, "that I cooked thesupper?"

"Yes, " said Miss Raybold, turning upon her guide with a pleasant smile, "that is what I referred to. "

"Well, " said Mrs. Perkenpine, "I was told that if I didn't cook I'd bebounced. It isn't my individdlety to cook for outsiders, but it isn't myindividdlety to be bounced, nuther, so I cooked. Is that bein' ahermick?"

"You have it, " cried Mr. Archibald, "you've not only found out what youare, but what you have to be. Your knowledge of yourself is perfect. Andnow, " he continued, "isn't there somebody who can tell us a story? When weare sitting around a camp-fire, there is nothing better than stories. Bishop, I dare say you have heard a good many in the course of your life. Don't you feel like giving us one?"

"I think, " said Corona, "that by the aid of stories it is possible toget a very good idea of ourselves. For instance, if some one were totell a good historical story, and any one of us should find himself orherself greatly interested in it, then that person might discover, onsubsequent reflection, some phase of his or her intellect which he or shemight not have before noticed. On the other hand, if it should be alove story, and some of us could not bear to hear it, then we mightalso find out something about ourselves of which we had been ignorant. But I really think that, before making any tests of this sort, weshould continue the discussion of what is at present the main objectof our lives--self-knowledge and self-assertion. In other words, theemancipation of the individual. As I have said before, and as we allknow, there never was a better opportunity offered a group of peopleof mature minds to subject themselves, free of outside influences, to athorough mental inquisition, and then to exhibit the results of theirself-examinations to appreciative companions. This last is very important. If we do not announce to others what we are, it is of scarcely any use tobe anything. I mean this, of course, in a limited sense. "

"Harriet, " said Mr. Archibald, abruptly, "do you remember where I left mypipe? I do not like this cigar. "

"On the shelf by the door of the cabin, " she replied. "I saw it as I cameout. "

Her husband immediately rose and left the fire. Corona paused in herdiscourse to wait until Mr. Archibald came back; but then, as if she didnot wish to lose the floor, she turned towards the bishop, who sat at alittle distance from her, and addressed herself to him, with the idea ofmaking some collateral remarks on what she had already said, in order tofill up the time until Mr. Archibald should return. 

Mrs. Archibald thought that her husband had been a little uncivil; butalmost immediately after he had gone, she, too, jumped up, and, withoutmaking any excuse whatever, hurried after him. 

The reason for this sudden movement was that Mrs. Archibald had seen someone approaching from the direction of Camp Roy. She instantly recognizedthis person as Arthur Raybold, and felt sure that, unwilling to staylonger by himself, he was coming to the camp-fire, and if her husbandshould see him, she knew there would be trouble. What sort of trouble orhow far it might extend she did not try to imagine. 

"Hector, " she said, as soon as she was near enough for him to hear her, "don't go after the pipe; let us take a moonlight walk along the shore. Ibelieve it is full moon to-night, and we have not had a walk of that sortfor ever so long. "

"Very good, " said her husband, turning to her. "I shall be delighted. Idon't care for the pipe, and the cigar would have been good enough if ithad not been for the sermon. That would spoil any pleasure. I can't standthat young woman, Harriet; I positively cannot. "

"Well, then, let us walk away and forget her, " said his wife. "I don'twonder she annoys you. "

"If it were only the young woman, " thought Mrs. Archibald, as the twostrolled away beneath the light of the moon, "we might manage it. But herbrother!"

At the next indication of a pause in Corona's discourse the bishopsuddenly stood on his feet. "I wonder, " he said, "if there is anything thematter with Mrs. Archibald? I will step over to her cabin to see. "

"Indeed!" said Corona, rising with great promptness, "I hope it is nothingserious. I will go with you. "

Margery was not a rude girl, but she could not help a little laugh, whichshe subdued as much as possible; Mr. Clyde, who was sitting near her, laughed also. 

"There is nothing on earth the matter with Aunt Harriet, " said Margery. "They didn't go into the cabin; I saw them walking away down the shore. "

"How would you like to walk that way?" he asked. "I think their example isa very good one. "

"It is capital, " said Margery, jumping up, "and let's get away quicklybefore she comes back. "

They hurried away, but they did not extend their walk down the lake shoreeven as far as Mr. And Mrs. Archibald had already gone. When they came tothe bit of beach behind the clump of trees where the bishop had retiredthat afternoon to read, they stopped and sat down to watch the moonlighton the water. 

Matlack and Mrs. Perkenpine were now the only persons at the camp-fire, for Bill Hammond, as was his custom, had promptly gone to bed as soon ashis work was done. If Arthur Raybold had intended to come to thecamp-fire, he had changed his mind, for he now stood near his sister'stent, apparently awaiting the approach of Corona and the bishop, who hadnot found the Archibalds, and who were now walking together in what mighthave been supposed, by people who did not know the lady, to be an earnestdialogue. 

Mr. Matlack was seated on his log, and he smoked, while Mrs. Perkenpinesat on the ground, her head thrown back and her arms hugging her knees. 

"Phil, " said she, "that there moon looks to me like an oyster with acandle behind it, and as smooth and slippery as if I could jest swallow itdown. You may think it is queer for me to think such things as that, Phil, but since I've come to know myself jest as I am, me, I've found outfeelin's--"

"Mrs. Perkenpine, " said Matlack, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, "there's a good many things besides moons that I can't swallow, and ifit's all the same to you, I'll go to bed. "

"Well, " she exclaimed, looking after him, "his individdlety is thesnapshortest I ever did see! I don't believe he wants to know hisself. Ifhe did, I'm dead sure I could help him. He never goes out to run a campwithout somebody to help him, and yet he's so everlastin' blind he can'tsee the very best person there is to help him, and she a-plumpin' herselfsquare in front of him every time she gits a chance. " With that reflectionshe rose and walked away. 

"I tell you, Harriet, " said Mr. Archibald, when he and his wife hadreturned from their walk and were about to enter the cabin, "somethingmust be done to enable us to spend the rest of our time here in peace. This is our camp, and we want it for ourselves. If a good companionablefellow like the bishop or that young Clyde happens along, it is all verywell, but we do not want all sorts of people forcing themselves upon us, and I will not submit to it. "

"Of course we ought not to do that, " said she, "but I hope that whateveryou do, it will be something as pleasant as possible. "

"I will try to avoid any unpleasantness, " said he, "and I hope I may doso, but---- By-the-way, where is Margery?"

"I think she must be in bed, " said Mrs. Archibald; then stepping inside, she called, "Margery, are you there?"

"Yes, Aunt Harriet, " replied Margery, "I am here. "

"She must have found it dreadfully stupid, poor girl!" said Mr. Archibald. 

The lights were all out in the Archibalds' cabin, and still Miss Rayboldand the bishop walked up and down the open space at the farther end of thecamp. 

"Corona!" exclaimed her brother, suddenly appearing before them, "I havetold you over and over again that I wish to speak to you. Are you nevergoing to stop that everlasting preaching and give me a chance to talk toyou?"

"Arthur!" she exclaimed, sharply, "I wish you would not interrupt me inthis way. I had just begun to say--"

"Oh, my dear Miss Raybold, " cried the bishop, "do not let me prevent youfrom speaking to your brother. Indeed, it is growing late, and I will nottrespass longer on your time. Good-night, " and with a bow he was gone. 

"Now just see what you have done!" said Corona, her eye-glasses brighterthan the moon. 

"Well, it is time he was going, " said her brother. "I have something veryimportant to say to you. I want your good offices in an affair more worthyof your thoughts than anything else at this moment. "

"Whatever it is, " she said, turning away from him, "I do not want to hearit now--not a word of it. You have displeased me, Arthur, and I am goingto my tent. "

CHAPTER XXV

A MOONLIGHT INTERVIEW

Mrs. Archibald retired to her cabin, but she did not feel in the leastlike going to bed. Her husband had long been asleep in his cot, and shestill sat by the side of the little window looking out upon themoon-lighted scene; but the beauty of the night, if she noticed it at all, gave her no pleasure. Her mind was harassed and troubled by many things, chief among which was her husband's unfinished sentence in which he hadsaid that he would try to avoid any unpleasantness, but at the same timehad intimated that if the unpleasant thing were forced upon him he wasready to meet it. 

Now, reason as she would, Mrs. Archibald could not banish from her mindthe belief that Arthur Raybold would come to their camp some time duringthe next day. In fact, not having heard otherwise, she supposed he hadcome to the camp-fire that night. She was filled with anger and contemptfor the young man who was determined to force himself on their party inthis outrageous manner, and considered it shameful that their peacefullife in these woods had been so wickedly disturbed. No wonder she did notwant to sleep; no wonder she sat at the window thinking and thinking. 

Presently she saw some one walking over the open space towards the cabin, and she could not fail to recognize the figure with the long stride, thefolded arms, and the bowed head. He passed the window and then he turnedand repassed it, then he turned and walked by again, this time a littlenearer than before. 

"This is too much!" said Mrs. Archibald. "The next thing he will betapping at her window. I will go out and speak my mind to him. "

Opening the door very softly, and without even stopping to throw a shawlover her head and shoulders, Mrs. Archibald stepped outside into thenight. Raybold was now at a little distance from the cabin, in thedirection of Camp Roy, and was just about to turn when she hurried up tohim. 

"Mr. Raybold, " she said, speaking low and rapidly, "if you possessed aspark of gentlemanly feeling you would be ashamed to come into this campwhen you have been ordered out of it. My husband has told you he does notwant you here, and now I tell you that I do not want you here. It pains meto be obliged to speak to any one in this manner, but it is plain that noother sort of speech will affect you. Now, sir, I know your object, and Iwill not have you wandering up and down here in front of our cabin. I wishyou to go to your own camp, and that immediately. "

Raybold stood and listened to her without a word until she had finished, and then he said:

"Madam, there has been a good deal of talk about knowing ourselves andshowing ourselves to others. Now I know myself very well indeed, and Iwill show myself to you by saying that when my heart is interested I obeyno orders, I pay no attention to mandates of any sort. Until I can saywhat I have to say I will watch and I will wait, but I shall not drawback. "

For the first time in fifteen years Mrs. Archibald lost her temper. Sheturned pale with anger. "You contemptible scoundrel! Go! Leave this campinstantly!"

He stood with arms folded and smiled at her, saying nothing. She trembled, she was so angry. But what could she do? If she called Mr. Archibald, orif he should be awakened by any outcry, she feared there would bebloodshed, and if she went to call Matlack, Mr. Archibald would be sure tobe awakened. But at this moment some one stepped up quickly behindRaybold, and with a hand upon his shoulder, partly turned him around. 

"I think, " said the bishop, "that I heard this lady tell you to go. If so, go. "

"I did say it, " said Mrs. Archibald, hurriedly. "Please be as quiet as youcan, but make him go. "

"Do you hear what Mrs. Archibald says?" asked the bishop, sternly. "Depart, or--"

"Do you mean to threaten me?" asked Raybold. 

The bishop stepped close to him. "Will you go of your own accord, " heasked, "or do you wish me to take you away?"

He spoke quietly, but with an earnestness that impressed itself uponRaybold, who made a quick step backward. He felt a natural repugnance, especially in the presence of a lady, to be taken away by this big man, who, in the moonlight, seemed to be bigger than ever. 

"I will speak to you, " said he, "when there are no ladies present. " Andwith this he retired. 

"I am so much obliged to you, " said Mrs. Archibald. "It was a wonderfulpiece of good fortune that you should have come at this minute. "

The bishop smiled. "I am delighted that I happened here, " he said. "Iheard so much talking this evening that I thought I would tranquillize mymind by a quiet walk by myself before I went to bed, and so I happened tosee you and Raybold. Of course I had no idea of intruding upon you, butwhen I saw you stretch out your arm and say 'Go!' I thought it was timefor me to come. "

"I feel bound to say to you, " said Mrs. Archibald, "that that impertinentfellow is persisting in his attentions to Miss Dearborn, and that Mr. Archibald and I will not have it. "

"I imagined that the discussion was on that subject, " said the bishop, "for Mr. Clyde has intimated to me that Raybold has been making himselfdisagreeable to the young lady. "

"I do not know what we are going to do, " said Mrs. Archibald, reflectively; "there seems to be no way of making an impression upon him. He is like his sister--he will have his own way. "

"Yes, " said the bishop, with a sigh, "he is like his sister. But then, onemight thrash him, but what can be done with her? I tell you, Mrs. Archibald, " he said, turning to her, earnestly, "it is getting to beunbearable. The whole evening, ever since you left the camp-fire, she hasbeen talking to me on the subject of mental assimilation--that is, thetreatment of our ideas and thoughts as if they were articles offood--intellectual soda biscuit, or plum pudding, for instance--in orderto find out whether our minds can digest these things and produce fromthem the mental chyme and chyle necessary to our intellectual development. The discourse was fortunately broken off for to-night, but there is moreof it for to-morrow. I really cannot stand it. "

"I wouldn't stand it, " said Mrs. Archibald. "Can't you simply go away andleave her when she begins in that way?"

The bishop shook his head. "No, " he said, "that is impossible. When thosebeautiful eyes are fixed upon me I cannot go away. They charm me and theyhold me. Unless there is an interruption, I must stay and listen. The onlysafety for me is to fly from this camp. At last, " he said, smiling alittle sadly, "I am going to go. I did not want to do this until your campbroke up, but I must. "

"And you are really going to-morrow?" she asked. 

"Yes, " he said. "I have positively decided upon that. "

"I am sorry to hear it, " she said. "Good-night. "

When Mrs. Archibald entered her cabin she found her husband sleepingsoundly, and she again sat down by the window. There was no such thing assleep for her; her mind was more tossed and troubled than it had beenbefore she went out. The fact that the bishop was going away made thematter worse, for just as she had found out that he was willing to helpher, and that he might be able to keep Raybold away from them withoutactual violence--for she saw that the young boaster was afraid of him--hehad told her he must leave, and in her heart she did not blame him. Withgreat fear and anxiety she looked forward to the morrow. 

It was about two o'clock when Mrs. Archibald suddenly arose from her seatby the window and lighted a candle. Then she pulled down the shades of thewindows, front and back, after which she went to her husband's cot and puther hand upon his shoulder. 

"Hector, " said she, "wake up. "

In a moment Mr. Archibald was staring at her. "What is the matter?" heexclaimed. "Are you sick?"

"No, " said she, "but I have something very important to say to you. I wantyou to get up and go away with me, and take Margery. "

Mr. Archibald sat up in bed. He was now in full possession of his senses. "What!" said he, "elope? And where to?"

"Yes, " said she, "that is exactly what I mean, and we will go to Sadler'sfirst, and then home. "

"Do you mean now?" said he. 

"Yes--that is, as soon as it is light, " she replied. 

"Are you positively sure you are awake, Harriet?" asked Mr. Archibald. 

"Awake!" she said. "I have not been asleep to-night. Don't you see I amdressed?" And she drew a chair to the bedside and sat down. "I know moreabout what is going on than you do, Hector, " she said, "and I tell you ifwe stay any longer in this camp, there is going to be great trouble. Thatyoung Raybold pays no attention to what you said about keeping away fromus. He comes here, when he pleases, and he says he intends to come. Iasked you to take a walk with me this evening because I saw him coming tothe camp-fire and I knew that you would resent it. To-night I saw himwalking up and down in front of our cabin, and I believe he intended totry to speak to Margery. I went out to him myself, and he was positivelyinsulting. If the bishop had not happened to come up, I believe he wouldhave stayed here and defied me. But he made him go. 

"Now that you know this, Hector, it is very certain that there will betrouble between you and that young man, and I do not want that. And, besides that, there is his sister; she is as determined to preach as he isto speak to Margery. The bishop says he can't stand her any longer, and heis going away to-morrow, and that will make it all the worse forus--especially for you, Hector. I cannot endure this state of things; ithas made me so nervous I cannot get to sleep, and, besides, it is notright for us to keep Margery where she must be continually guarded fromsuch a man. Now it may seem foolish to run away, but I have thought overthe matter for hours and hours, and it is the only thing to do; and whatis more, it is very easy to do. If we announce that we are going, we willall go, and the chief cause of quarrels and danger will go with us. I knowyou, Hector; you will not stand his impertinence. 

"It will be daylight between three and four o'clock, and we three canstart out quietly and have a pleasant walk to Sadler's. It is only fourmiles, and we can take our time. We need not carry anything with us butwhat we choose to put in our pockets. We can pack our bags and leave themhere, and Mr. Sadler will send for them. When we get there we can go tobed if we like, and have time enough for a good sleep before breakfast, and then we can take the morning stage and leave this place and everybodyin it. Now please don't be hasty and tell me all this is foolish. Remember, if you stay here you have a quarrel on your hands, and I shallhave hours of misery until that quarrel is settled; and no matter how itis settled, things will be disagreeable afterwards. "

"Harriet, " said Mr. Archibald, suddenly twisting himself so that he sat onthe side of the bed, "your idea is a most admirable one. It suits meexactly. Let us run away. It is impossible for us to do anything betterthan that. Have you told Margery?"

"No, " she answered, "but I will go to her at once. "

"Be quick and quiet, then, " said her husband, who had now entered fullyinto the spirit of the adventure; "nobody must hear us. I will dress, andthen we will pack. "

"Margery, " said Mrs. Archibald, after three times shaking the sleepinggirl, "you must get up. Your uncle and I are going away, and you must gowith us. "

Margery turned her great eyes on Mrs. Archibald, but asked no questions. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Archibald, "we cannot stay in this camp any longer, onaccount of Mr. Raybold and various other things. Matters have come to acrisis, and we must go, and more than that, we must slip away so that theothers may not go with us. "

"When?" asked Margery, now speaking for the first time. 

"As soon as it is daylight. "

"So soon as that?" said the girl, a shadow on her brow which was veryplain in the light of the candle which Mrs. Archibald had brought withher. "Surely not before breakfast?"

"Margery, " said Mrs. Archibald, a little sharply, "you do not seem tounderstand--you are not awake; we must start as soon as it is light. Butwe cannot discuss it now. We are going, and you must go with us. You mustget up and pack your things in your bag, which we shall send for. "

Suddenly a light came into Margery's eyes and she sat up. "All right, "said she, "I will be ready as soon as you are. It will be jolly to runaway, especially so early in the morning, " and with that she jumped out ofbed. 

CHAPTER XXVI

AN ELOPEMENT

A little more than an hour after Mrs. Archibald had made known her projectto her husband the three inhabitants of the cabin stole softly out intothe delicate light of the early dawn. 

Mr. Archibald had thought of leaving a note for Matlack, but his wife haddissuaded him. She was afraid that the wrong person might get hold of it. 

"When we are safely at Sadler's, " she said, "we can send for our bags, with a note to Matlack. It will not matter then who knows. " She had a firmbelief in the power of the burly keeper of the inn to prevent trouble onhis premises. 

With careful but rapid steps the little party passed along the openportion of the camp, keeping as far as possible from the tent whereinreposed Corona and Mrs. Perkenpine, and soon reached the entrance of thewood road. Here it was not quite so light as in the open, but still theycould make their way without much trouble, and after a few minutes'walking they felt perfectly safe from observation, and slackening theirpace, they sauntered along at their ease. 

The experience was a novel one to all of them; even Mr. Archibald hadnever been in the woods so early in the morning. In fact, under thesegreat trees it could scarcely be said to be morning. The young light whichmade its uncertain way through the foliage was barely strong enough tocast a shadow, and although these woodland wanderers knew that it was aroadway in which they were walking, that great trees stood on each side ofthem, with branches reaching out over their heads, and that there werebushes and vines and here and there a moss-covered rock or a fallen tree, they saw these things not clearly and distinctly, but as through a veil. But there was nothing uncertain about the air they breathed; full of themoist aroma of the woods, it was altogether different from the noondayodors of the forest. 

Stronger and stronger grew the morning light, and more and more clearlyperceptible became the greens, the browns, and the grays about them. Nowthe birds began to chatter and chirp, and squirrels ran along the branchesof the trees, while a young rabbit bounced out from some bushes and wentbounding along the road. This early morning life was something they hadnot seen in their camp, for it was all over before they began their day. There was a spring by the roadside, which they had noticed when they hadcome that way before, and when they reached it they sat down and ate somebiscuit which Mrs. Archibald had brought with her, and drank cool waterfrom Mr. Archibald's folding pocket-cup. 

The loveliness of the scene, the novelty of the experience, the feelingthat they were getting away from unpleasant circumstances, and in aperfectly original and independent fashion, gave them all high spirits. Even Mrs. Archibald, whose sleepless night might have been supposed tointerfere with this morning walk, declared herself as fresh as a lark, andstated that she knew now why a lark or any other thing that got up earlyin the morning should be fresh. 

They had not left the spring far behind them when they heard a rustling inthe woods to the right of the road, and the next moment there sprang outinto the open, not fifty feet in front of them, a full-grown red deer. They were so startled by this apparition that they all stopped as if thebeautiful creature had been a lion in their path. For an instant it turnedits great brown eyes upon them, and then with two bounds it plunged intothe underbrush on the other side of the road. Mrs. Archibald and Margeryhad never before seen a deer in the woods. 

The young girl clapped her hands. "It all reminds me of my first night atthe opera!" she cried. 

Two or three times they rested, and they never walked rapidly, so it wasafter five o'clock when the little party emerged into the open country andapproached the inn. Not a soul was visible about the premises, but as theyknew that some one soon would be stirring, they seated themselves in threearm-chairs on the wide piazza to rest and wait. 

Peter Sadler was an early riser, and when the front hall door was open heappeared thereat, rolling his wheeled chair out upon the piazza with abump--though not with very much of a bump, for the house was built to suithim and his chair. But he did not take his usual morning roll upon thepiazza, for, turning his head, he beheld a gentleman and two ladies fastasleep in three great wicker chairs. 

"Upon my soul!" he exclaimed. "If they ain't the Camp Robbers!" At thisexclamation they all awoke. 

Ten minutes after that the tale had been told, and if the right arm of Mr. Sadler's chair had not been strong and heavy it would have been shiveredinto splinters. 

"As usual, " cried the stalwart Peter, "the wrong people ran away. If I hadseen that bicycle man and his party come running out of the woods, Ishould have been much better satisfied, and I should have thought you hadmore spirit in you, sir, than I gave you credit for. "

"Oh, you mistake my husband altogether!" cried Mrs. Archibald. "Thetrouble with him is that he has too much spirit, and that is the reason Ibrought him away. "

"And there is another thing, " exclaimed Margery. "You should not say Mr. Raybold and his party. He was the only one of them who behaved badly. "

"That is true, " said Mrs. Archibald. "His sister is somewhat obtrusive, but she is a lady, gentle and polite, and it would have been very painfulto her and as painful to us had it been necessary forcibly to eject herbrother from our camp. It was to avoid all this that we--"

"Eloped, " interjected Mr. Archibald. 

[Illustration: "'IF THEY AIN'T THE CAMP ROBBERS!'"]

The good Peter laughed. "Perhaps you are right, " said he. "But I shallhave a word with that bicycle fellow when he comes this way. You are anoriginal party, if there ever was one. First you go on somebody else'swedding-journey, and then you elope in the middle of the night, and nowthe best thing you can do is to go to bed. You can have a good sleep and anine-o'clock breakfast, and I do not see why you should leave here for twoor three days. "

"Oh, we must go this morning, " said Mrs. Archibald, quickly. "We must go. We really cannot wait until any of those people come here. It makes menervous to think about it. "

"Very good, then, " said Peter. "The coach starts for the train ateleven. "

Mrs. Archibald was a systematic woman, and was in the habit of rising athalf-past seven, and when that hour arrived she awoke as if she had beenasleep all night. Going to the window to see what sort of a day it was, which was also her custom, she looked out upon the lawn in front of thehouse, and her jaw dropped and her eyes opened. There she beheld Margeryand Mr. Clyde strolling along in close converse. For a moment she wasutterly stupefied. 

"What can this mean?" she thought. "How could they have missed us so soon?We are seldom out of our cabin before eight o'clock. I cannot comprehendit!" And then a thought came to her which made her face grow pale. "Is itpossible, " she said to herself, "that any of the others have come? I mustgo immediately and find out. "

In ten minutes she had dressed and quietly left the room. 

When Margery saw Mrs. Archibald descending the piazza, steps, she left Mr. Clyde and came running to meet her. 

"I expect you are surprised to see me here, " she said, "but I intended totell you and Uncle Archibald as soon as you came down. You see, I did notat all want to go away and not let Mr. Clyde know what had become of me, and so, after I had packed my bag, I wrote a little note to him and put itin a biscuit-box under a stone not far from my window, which we hadarranged for a post-office, just the day before. "

"A post-office!" cried Mrs. Archibald. 

"Yes, " said Margery. "Of course there wasn't any need for one--at least wedid not suppose there would be--but we thought it would be nice; for, youmust know, we are engaged. "

"What!" cried Mrs. Archibald. "Engaged? Impossible! What are you talkingabout?"

"Yes, " said Margery, "we are really engaged, and it was absolutelynecessary. Under ordinary circumstances this would not have happened sosoon, but as things were it could not be delayed. Mr. Clyde thought thematter over very carefully, and he decided that the only way to keep mefrom being annoyed and frightened by Mr. Raybold was for him to have theright to defend me. If he told Mr. Raybold I was engaged to him, that ofcourse would put an end to the young man's attentions. We were engagedonly yesterday, so we haven't had any time to tell anybody, but weintended to do it to-day, beginning with you and Uncle Archibald. Harrisoncame over early to the post-office, hoping to find some sort of a note, and he was wonderfully astonished when he read what was in the one I putthere. I told him not to say anything to anybody, and he didn't, but hestarted off for Sadler's immediately, and came almost on a run, he says, he was so afraid I might go away before he saw me. "

"Margery, " exclaimed the elder lady, tears coming into her eyes as shespoke, "I am grieved and shocked beyond expression. What can I say to myhusband? What can I say to your mother? From the bottom of my heart I wishwe had not brought you with us; but how could I dream that all thistrouble would come of it?"

"It is indeed a very great pity, " said Margery, "that Mr. Clyde and Icould not have been engaged before we went into camp; then Mr. Rayboldwould have had no reason to bother me, and I should have had no troublewith Martin. "

"Martin!" cried Mrs. Archibald. "What of him?"

"Oh, he was in love with me too, " replied the young girl, "and we hadtalks about it, and I sent him away. He was really a young man far abovehis station, and was doing the things he did simply because he wanted tostudy nature; but of course I could not consider him at all. "

"And that was the reason he left us!" exclaimed Mrs. Archibald. "Upon myword, it is amazing!"

"Yes, " said Margery; "and don't you see, Aunt Harriet, how many reasonsthere were why Mr. Clyde and I should settle things definitely and becomeengaged? Now there need be no further trouble with anybody. "

Distressed as she was, Mrs. Archibald could not refrain from smiling. "Nofurther trouble!" she said. "I think you would better wait until Mr. Archibald and your mother have heard this story before you say that. "

Mr. Archibald was dressing for breakfast when his wife told him ofMargery's engagement, and the announcement caused him to twirl around sosuddenly that he came very near breaking a looking-glass with hishair-brush. He made a dash for his coat. "I will see him, " he said, andhis eyes sparkled in a way which indicated that they could discover amalefactor without the aid of spectacles. 

"Stop!" said his wife, standing in his way. "Don't go to them when you areangry. We have just got out of trouble, and don't let us jump into itagain. If they are really and truly engaged--and I am sure they are--wehave no authority to break it off, and the less you say the better. Whatwe must do is to take her immediately to her mother, and let her settlethe matter as best she can. If she knows her daughter as well as I do, Iam sure she will acquit us of all blame. "

Mr. Archibald was very indignant and said a great deal, but his wife wasfirm in her counsel to avoid any hard words or bad feeling in a matterover which they had now no control. 

"Well, " said he, at last, "I will pass over the whole affair to Mrs. Dearborn, but I hope I may eat my breakfast without seeing them. Whateverhappens, I need a good meal. "

When Mr. Archibald came out of the breakfast-room, his mind considerablycomposed by hot rolls and coffee, he met Margery in the hall. 

"Dear Uncle Archibald, " she exclaimed, "I have been waiting and waitingfor you. I hope you are not angry. Please be as kind to us as you can, andremember, it was just the same with us as it was with you and AuntHarriet. You would not have run away from the camp in the middle of thenight if you could have helped it, and we should not have been engaged sosuddenly if we could have helped it. But we all had to do what we did onaccount of the conduct of others, and as it is settled now, I think weought all to try to be as happy as we can, and forget our troubles. Hereis Harrison, and he and I both pray from the bottom of our hearts that youwill shake hands with him. I know you always liked him, for you have saidso. And now we are both going to mother to tell her all about it. "

"Both?" said Mr. Archibald. 

"Yes, " said Margery; "we must go together, otherwise mother would knownothing about him, and I should be talking to no purpose. But we are goingto do everything frankly and openly and go straight to her, and put ourhappiness in her hands. "

Mr. Archibald looked at her steadfastly. "Such ingenuousness, " he said, presently, "is overpowering. Mr. Clyde, how do you do? Do you think it isgoing to be a fine day?"

The young man smiled. "I think it is going to be a fine lifetime, " saidhe. 

The party was gathered together on the piazza, ready to take the coach. The baggage had arrived from the camp in a cart; but Phil Matlack had notcome with it, as he remained to take down his tent and settle affairsgenerally. They were all sorry not to see him again, for he had provedhimself a good man and a good guide; but when grown-up married peopleelope before daybreak something must be expected to go wrong. Hearty andsubstantial remembrances were left for him, and kind words of farewell forthe bishop, and even for Miss Corona when she should appear. 

Peter Sadler was loath to part with his guests. "You are more interestingnow than ever you were, " he said, "and I want to hear all about thathermit business; you've just barely mentioned it. "

"My dear sir, " said Mr. Archibald, with a solemn visage, "sooner or laterMiss Corona Raybold will present herself at this inn on her way home. Ifyou want to know anything about her plan to assist human beings to asserttheir individualities, it will only be necessary to mention the fact toher. "

"Good-bye, then, " said Peter, shaking hands with Mr. And Mrs. Archibald. "I don't know what out-of-the-way thing you two will do next, but, whatever it is, I hope it will bring you here. "

CHAPTER XXVII

MRS. PERKENPINE DELIGHTS THE BISHOP

It was the bishop who first appreciated the fact that a certain air ofloneliness had descended upon the shore of the lake. He had preparedbreakfast at his camp, but as Mr. Clyde did not make his appearance hewent to Camp Rob to look for him. There he saw Matlack and his assistantbusy in their kitchen tent, and Mrs. Perkenpine was also engaged inculinary matters. He had left Arthur Raybold asleep at Camp Roy, but ofthe ladies and gentleman who were usually visible at the breakfast-hour atCamp Rob he saw no signs, and he approached Mrs. Perkenpine to inquire forClyde. At his question the sturdy woman turned and smiled. It was a queersmile, reminding the bishop of the opening and shutting of a farm gate. 

"He's a one-er, " said she. "Do you suppose he could ketch a rabbit, nomatter how fast he ran?"

"Come, now, " said the bishop, "he wasn't trying to do that?"

"He was either doin' that, or else he was runnin' away. I seed him earlythis mornin'--I wasn't up, but I was lookin' round--and I thought from theway he was actin' that he'd set a rabbit-trap and was goin' to see if he'dcaught anything, and pretty soon I seed him runnin' like Sam Hill, as ifhis rabbit had got away from him. But perhaps it wasn't that, and maybesomebody skeered him. Anyway, he's clean gone. "

The bishop stood and reflected; the affair looked serious. Clyde was apractical, sensible fellow--and he was gone. Why did he go?

"Have you seen any of the Archibalds yet?" he asked. 

"No, " said she; "I guess they're not up yet, though it's late for them. Myyoung woman ain't up nuther, but it ain't late for her. "

The bishop walked slowly towards the cabin and regarded it earnestly. After a few minutes inspection he stepped up to the door and knocked. Thenhe knocked again and again, and hearing nothing from within he becamealarmed, and ran to Matlack. 

"Hello!" he cried. "Something has happened to your people, or they havegone away. Come to the cabin, quick!"

In less than a minute Matlack, the bishop, and Bill Hammond were at thecabin, and the unfastened door was opened wide. No one was in the house, that was plain enough, but on the floor were four bags packed fortransportation. 

Matlack looked about him, and then he laughed. "All right, " said he;"there ain't no need of worryin' ourselves. They haven't left a thing oftheirs about, everything's packed up and ready to be sent for. When peopledo that, you may be sure nothing's happened to them. They've gone off, andI bet it's to get rid of that young woman's preachin'. But I don't blamethem; I don't wonder they couldn't stand it. "

The bishop made no reply. Remembering his recent conversation with Mrs. Archibald, he believed that, if they had quietly gone away, there was abetter reason for it than Miss Raybold's fluency of expression. It waspossible that something might have happened after he had retired from thescene the night before, for when he went to sleep Raybold was stillwalking up and down in the moonlight. 

His mind was greatly disturbed. They were gone, and he was left. "What areyou going to do?" he asked Matlack. 

"Nothin' just now, " said the guide. "If they don't send for their thingspretty soon, I'll go over to Sadler's and find out what's the matter. Butthey're all right. Look how careful them bags is strapped up!"

The bishop left the cabin and walked thoughtfully away in the direction ofCamp Roy. In two minutes he had made up his mind: he would eat hisbreakfast--he could not travel upon an empty stomach--and then he woulddepart. That was imperative. 

When he reached the camp he found that Raybold had risen and was pouringout for himself a bowl of coffee. Seeing the bishop approach, the youngman's face grew dark, as might have been expected from the events of thenight before, and he hurriedly placed some articles of food upon a plate, and was about leaving the stove when the bishop reached him. Rayboldturned with a frown, and what was meant to be a glare. 

"I shall bide my time, " said he, and with his coffee and his plate heretired to a distance. 

The bishop smiled but made no answer, and sat down and ate his meal inpeace; then he prepared to depart. He had nothing but a little bag, and itdid not take long to put in order the simple culinary department of thecamp. When all was done he stood for some minutes thinking. There was apath through the woods which led to the road, so that he might go on toSadler's without the knowledge of any one at Camp Rob, but he felt that heought to see Matlack and tell him that he was going. If anything wentwrong at Camp Roy he did not wish to be held responsible for it. Mr. Archibald could afford to go away without saying anything about it, but hecould not, and, besides, if he should happen to see Miss Raybold it wouldbe far more gentlemanly to tell her that he was going and to bid hergoodbye, than to slip off through the woods like a tramp. He would go, that he was determined upon; but he would go like a man. 

When he reached Camp Rob the first person he saw was Miss Raybold, standing near her tent with a roll of paper in her hand. The moment sheperceived him she walked rapidly towards him. 

"Good-morning, " she said. "Did you know that the Archibalds had gone? Inever was so amazed in all my life. I was eating my breakfast when a manand a cart drove up to their cabin, and Mrs. Perkenpine, running to seewhat this meant, soon came back and told me that the family of three haddeparted in the night, and had sent this cart for their baggage. I thinkthis was a very uncivil proceeding, and I do not in the least understandit. Can you imagine any reason for this extremely uncourteous action?"

The bishop could imagine reasons, but he did not care to state them. 

"It may be, " he said, with a smile, "that they discovered that theirnatures demanded hotel beds instead of camp cots, and that theyimmediately departed in obedience to the mandates of theirindividualities. "

"But in so doing, " said Miss Raybold, "they violated the principles ofassociation. Our scheme included mutual confidence as well asself-investigation and assertion. I must admit that Mr. Archibalddisappointed me. I think he misunderstood my project. By holding one'sself entirely aloof from humanity one encourages self-ignorance. Butperhaps our party was somewhat too large--the elements too many andinharmonious--and I see no reason why we who remain should relinquish ourpurpose. I believe it will be easier for us to become truly ourselves thanwhen our number was greater, and so I propose that we make no changewhatever in our plans; that we live on, for the time agreed upon, exactlyas if the Archibalds were here. And now, if you have a few minutes tospare, I would like to read you something I wrote this morning before Ileft my tent. I was awake during the night, and thought for a long timeupon the subject of mental assimilation, the discussion of which we didnot finish last evening, and this morning, while my thoughts were fresh, Iput them upon paper, and now I would like to read them to you. Isn't theresome shady place where we might sit down? There are two camp-chairs; willyou kindly place them under this tree?"

The bishop sighed, but he went for the chairs. It would be too hard forhim to tell her he was going to leave the camp, and he would not try to doit. He would slip off as soon as he had a chance, and leave a note forher. She would not perhaps like that, but it was the best he could do. 

The reading of the paper occupied at least half an hour, and when it wasfinished, and Corona had begun to make some remarks on a portion of itwhich she had not fully elaborated, Mrs. Perkenpine approached, and stoodbefore her. 

"Well, miss, " said she, "I'm off. "

Miss Raybold fixed her eye-glasses upon her. "What do you mean?" sheasked. 

"I'm goin' back to Sadler's, " she replied. "Phil's goin', and I'm goin'. He's jest told me that the cart's comin' back for the kitchen fixin's andhis things, and him and Bill Hammond is goin' to Sadler's with it; and ifhe goes, I goes. "

This speech had a very different effect upon its two hearers. Corona wasas nearly angry as her self-contained nature would permit; but, althoughhe did not allow his feelings to betray him, the bishop was delighted. Nowthey must all go, and that suited him exactly. 

"It is a positive and absolute breach of contract!" exclaimed MissRaybold. "You agreed to remain in my service during my stay in camp, andyou have no right to go away now, no matter who else may depart. "

Mrs. Perkenpine grinned. "That sort of thing was all very well a weekago, " said she, "but it won't work now. I've been goin' to school tomyself pretty steady, and I've kept myself in a good deal, too, for notknowin' my lessons, and I've drummed into me a pretty good idea of what Ibe, and I can tell you I'm not a woman as stays here when Phil Matlack'sgone. I'm not a bit scary, but I never stayed in camp yet with allgreenhorns but me. When I find myself in that sort of a mess, it's mynater to get out of it. Phil says he's goin' to start the fust thing thisafternoon, and that's the time I'm goin', and so, if you would like to go, you can send word by that man in the cart to have you and your things sentfor, and we can all clear out together. "

"Positively, " exclaimed Corona, turning to the bishop, "this is the mosthigh-handed proceeding I ever heard of!"

"That's 'xactly what I think, " said Mrs. Perkenpine; "it most takes mybreath away to think how high-handed I am. Before I knowed myself Icouldn't have been that way to save my skin. There didn't use to be anyindividdlety about me. You might take a quart of huckleberries and askyourself what it was particular 'bout any one of themhuckleberries--'xceptin' it might be green, and it's a long time since Iwas that way--and you'd know jest as much about that huckleberry as Iknowed about myself. Now it's different. It's just the same as if therewas only one huckleberry in a quart box, and it ain't no trouble to seeall around that. "

"I think, Miss Raybold, " said the bishop, "that this good woman hasprosecuted her psychical researches with more effect than any of us. "

"Bosh!" exclaimed Miss Raybold. "Do you really think I must leave thiscamp at the dictation of that person?"

"'Scuse me, " said Mrs. Perkenpine, "but I'm goin' to scratch thingstogether for movin'. We'll have dinner here, and then we'll pack up and beoff as soon as the carts come. That's what Phil says he's goin' to do. "

With a satisfied mind and internal gratitude to Mrs. Perkenpine, who hadmade everything easy for him, the bishop endeavored to make Corona feelthat, as her departure from the camp was inevitable, it would be well notto disturb her mind too much about it. But it was of no use trying toconsole the lady. 

"It is too bad, " she said; "it is humiliating. Here I believed that I wastruly myself; that I was an independent entity; that I was free to assertmy individual nature and to obey its impulses, and now I find that I amnothing but the slave of a female guide. Actually I must obey her, and Imust conform to her!"

"It is true, " said the bishop, musingly, "that although we may discoverourselves, and be greatly pleased with the prospect of what we see, we maynot be permitted to enter into its enjoyment, and must content ourselveswith looking over the fence and longing for what we see. "

Corona faintly smiled. "When we have climbed high enough to see over thatfence, " she said, "it becomes our duty to break it down. "

"When I was in England, " said the bishop, "I saw a fence--an oakfence--which they told me had stood for four hundred years. It lookedawfully tough, and it now reminds me of some of the manners and customs ofcivilization. "

"When you were in England, " said Corona, "did you visit Newnham College?"

He never had. But she told him that she had been there for two years. "Andnow, " she continued, "there may be time enough before I must pack up myeffects to finish what I was going to say to you about approximateassimilations. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE HERMITS CONTINUE TO FAVOR ASSOCIATION

When the Archibald party reached the capital city of their State, the fourof them took a carriage and drove immediately to the Dearborn residence. Margery had insisted that Mr. Clyde should go with them, so that he andshe should present themselves together before her parents. In no other waydid she believe that the subject could be properly presented. TheArchibalds did not object to this plan; in fact, under the circumstances, they were in favor of it. During the journey young Clyde had produced avery favorable impression upon them. They had always liked him wellenough, and now that they examined his character more critically, theycould not fail to see that he was a kind-hearted, gentlemanly young man, intelligent and well educated, and, according to private information fromMargery, his family was of the best. 

Arrived at the Dearborn door, they found the house in the possession ofone female servant, who informed them that Mr. Dearborn was in Canada, ona fishing expedition; that Mrs. Dearborn had gone to attend some sort of acongress at Saratoga, and that she did not expect to be at home until thefollowing Friday, three days after, which was the day on which she hadexpected her daughter to be brought back to her. This was disheartening, and the four stood upon the steps irresolute. Margery ought to go to hermother, but neither of the Archibalds wished to go to Saratoga, nor couldthey despatch thither the prematurely betrothed couple. 

"I know what we must do, " said Mrs. Archibald, "we must go home. "

"But, my dear, " said her husband, "we agreed to stay away for a month, andthe month is not yet up. "

"It doesn't matter, " said she. "Kate and her husband will take us in forthe few days left. When we explain all that we have gone through, she willnot be hard-hearted enough to make us go to a hotel until Friday; Margerycan come with us. "

Margery turned upon Mrs. Archibald a pair of eyes filled with earnestinquiry. 

"I know what you want, " said Mrs. Archibald. "No, he can go to a hotel inthe town; and I shall write to your mother to come to us as soon as shereturns; then you two can present yourselves together according to yourplans. There is no use talking about it, Hector; it is the only thing wecan do. "

"We shall break our word to the newly married, " said her husband. "Isn'tthere a State law against that?"

"When we made that arrangement, " said his wife, going down the steps, "wedid not know our individual selves; now we do, and the case is different. Kate will understand all that when I explain it to her. "

They drove back to the station, and took a train for home. 

Mr. And Mrs. Bringhurst were sitting in the cool library about nineo'clock that evening; he was reading while she was listening, and theywere greatly astonished when they heard a carriage drive up to the frontdoor. During their domestic honey-moon they had received no visitors, andthey looked at each other and wondered. 

"It is a mistake, " said he; "but don't trouble yourself. Mary has not goneto bed, and she will hear the bell. "

But there was no bell; the door was opened, and in came father and mother, followed by a strange young couple. 

"It is wonderful!" exclaimed Kate, when at last everybody had beenembraced or introduced. "A dozen times during the last week have we talkedabout the delight it would give us if our father and mother could be hereto be entertained a little while as our guests in our own house--for yougave it to us for a month, you know. But we refrained from sending you aninvitation because we did not want to cut off your holiday. And now youare here! The good fairies could not have arranged the matter better. "

When all the tales had been told; when the assertion of individuality andthe plans of hermit association had been described and discussed, and theyoung Bringhursts had told how they, too, without knowing it, had beenassociate hermits, devoting their time not to the discovery of their ownnatures, but of the nature of each other, and how perfectly satisfied theyhad been with the results, it was very late, and young Clyde was notallowed to go out into the darkness to find a hotel. 

It was on Thursday afternoon that Mrs. Dearborn arrived at the Archibalds'house. The letter she had received had made her feel that she could notwait until the end of the congress. 

"Now, mother, " said Margery, when the two were alone together, "you haveseen him and you have talked to him, and Uncle Hector has told you how hewent to the office of Glassborough & Clyde and found he was really theirnephew, and all about him and his family; and you have been told preciselywhy it was necessary that we should engage ourselves so abruptly onaccount of the violent nature of Mr. Raybold and the trouble he mightcause, not only to us, but to dear Aunt Harriet and Uncle Archibald. Andnow we come just like two of your own children and put the whole matterentirely into your hands and leave you to decide, out of your own heart, exactly when and where we shall be married, and all about it. Then, whenfather comes home, you can tell him just what you have decided to do. Youare our parents, and we leave it to you. "

"What in the world, " said Mrs. Dearborn, an hour later, when she wastalking to the two married ladies of the household, "can one do with agirl like that? I do not believe dynamite would blow them apart; and if Ithought it would I should not know how to manage it. "

"No, " said Mrs. Archibald, "I am afraid the explosion would be as bad foryou as it would be for them. "

"Don't try it, " said Mrs. Kate. "I take a great interest in that buddingbit of felicity; I consider it an outgrowth of our own marriage andhoney-moon. When we sent out that wild couple, my father and mother, on awedding-tour, we did not dream that they would bring back to us a pair oflovers, who never would have been lovers if it had not been for us, andwho are now ready for a wedding-tour on their own account, as soon ascircumstances may permit. And so, feeling a little right and privilege inthe matter, I am going to ask you, Mrs. Dearborn, to let them be marriedhere whenever the wedding-day shall come, and let them start out from thishouse on their marriage career. Now don't you think that would be a fineplan? I am sure your daughter will like it, when she remembers what sheowes us; and if Mr. Clyde objects I will undertake to make him change hismind. "

When the plan was proposed in full counsel, it was found that there wouldbe no need for the exercise of Mrs. Kate's powers of persuasion. 

 * * * * *

About ten days after Mrs. Dearborn and Margery had returned to their home, and Clyde had followed, to move like a satellite in an orbit determined byMrs. Dearborn, Mr. Archibald was surprised, but also very much pleased, toreceive a visit from the bishop. 

"I could not refrain, " said that expansive individual, "from coming to youas soon as circumstances would allow, and, while expressing to you thegreat obligations under which you have placed me, to confide to you myplans and my prospects. You have been so good to me that I believe youwill be pleased to know of the life work to which I have determined todevote myself. "

"I am glad to hear, " said the other, "that you have made plans, but youowe nothing to me. "

"Excuse me, " said the bishop, "but I do. This suit of clothes, sir, is thefoundation of my fortunes. "

"And well earned, " said Mr. Archibald. "But we will say no more aboutthat. Have you secured a position? Tell me about yourself. "

"I have a position, " said the bishop. "But would you prefer that I tellyou of that first, or begin at the beginning and briefly relate to youwhat has happened since I saw you last?"

"Oh, begin at the beginning, by all means, " said Mr. Archibald. "I wassorry to be obliged to leave you all so unceremoniously, and I greatlydesire to know what happened after we left. "

"Very good, then, " said the bishop, "I will give you our history in as fewwords as I can. On the afternoon after your departure we all went toSadler's--that is, Miss Raybold and myself and the three guides; forRaybold, when he heard that Miss Dearborn and Mr. Clyde had gone, immediately left for Sadler's, hoping, I think, to find you all there. From what I heard, I think he and Peter Sadler must have had words. At anyrate, he discovered that his case was hopeless, and he had himself drivento the station in a carriage, not choosing to wait until our arrival. Ihave since heard that he has determined to relinquish the law and devotehimself to the dramatic arts. 

"For some reason or other, Peter Sadler was very glad to see me, andcongratulated me heartily on the favorable change in my appearance. Hecalled me his favorite tramp, and invited me to stop at his hotel for atime, but I consented to stay a few days only, for I felt I must go to seethe gentleman to whom I wished to engage myself as librarian before my newclothes had lost their freshness. Miss Raybold arranged to stay atSadler's for a week. She liked the place, and as she had planned to remainaway from home for a fortnight, she did not wish to return before the timefixed upon. There were a good many people at Sadler's, but none of themseemed to interest her. She decidedly preferred to talk to Sadler or tome; but although Peter is a jolly fellow, and had some livelyconversations with her, he does not seem to care for protracted mentalintercourse, and it became so plain to me that she depended upon me, in solarge a degree, for companionship and intellectual stimulus, that I didnot leave as soon as I intended. It was on Wednesday, in fact, that Isteeled my heart and told her that I must positively depart early thefollowing morning, or I could not expect to reach my destination beforethe end of the week. It was that evening, however, that we became engagedto be married. "

"What?" cried Mr. Archibald. "Did you dare to propose yourself to thatclassic being?"

"No, " replied the other, "I cannot, with exactness, say that I did. Itwould be difficult, indeed, for me to describe the manner in which wearrived at this most satisfactory conclusion. Miss Raybold is a mistressof expression, and, without moving a hair's-breadth beyond the lines ofmaidenly reserve which always environ her, she made me aware, not onlythat I desired to propose marriage to her, but that it would be well forme to do so. There were objections to this course, which, as an honestman, I could not refrain from laying before her, and with my proposition Istated these objections, but they were overruled to my entiresatisfaction, and she consented to become Mrs. Bishop. "

"Mrs. Bishop?" said the other, inquiringly. 

"Oh yes; Bishop is my name--Henry C. Bishop. It was this name whichsuggested the title which was playfully given to me. Before our compactwas made I had told Miss Raybold all about my family. She did not ask meto do so, but I knew she desired the information, for I had learned toread those beautiful eyes. "

"But, " said Mr. Archibald, "how about your position? Did you get the placeas librarian?"

"No, " said the other, "I did not ask for it. The question of my vocationhas been settled most admirably. There never was a human being more frank, more straightforward and pertinent than Miss Raybold. She knows what shewants, and she makes her plans to get it. With regard to means she issufficiently endowed, but the life work to which she has devoted herselfis far more than she can ever accomplish alone. She needs the constantassistance of a sympathetic and appreciative nature, and that, I am happyto say, I am able to give to her; and were I to devote myself to any othercalling which would interfere with that assistance, I should be doing hera positive wrong. Therefore, should I state it in definite words, I shouldsay that I am to become my wife's private secretary. That is my position, and it suits me admirably; and I may add that Corona assures me that sheis thoroughly well pleased. We are to be married in the fall, and I hopeit will not be long before we shall have the pleasure of meeting again ourformer companions of the hermit camp. "

"By-the-way, " said Mr. Archibald, as his visitor was about to leave, "tellme something of Matlack. I had a great liking for our guide. "

"All that I can tell you is this, " said Mr. Bishop, smiling: "Not longafter we arrived at Sadler's, he went to Peter and asked him if heintended to send out a camping party to any considerable distance. It sohappened that a couple of gentlemen were going to a point on the verylimits of Sadler's jurisdiction, and with them Matlack petitioned to go, although another guide had been appointed. I made inquiries, and foundthat, for some reason, probably connected with the persistencies of thefemale sex, Matlack had become a sort of Daniel Boone and wanted to goaway as far as possible from his kind. "

"I hope, " said Mr. Archibald, "that our example has not made a real hermitof him. Good-bye. I am very sorry that Mrs. Archibald is not at home; butin both our names I wish you and your future wife the best of goodfortunes. "

"Father, " exclaimed Mrs. Kate, when she heard of this interview, "now youmust grant me one more favor! Here is another pair of lovers who oweeverything to our honey-moon and your wedding-tour. We ought to know them, for we made them what they are. So let us invite them here, and let thembe married from this house. I do not believe Miss Raybold has a properhome of her own; and, in any case, the only way they can pay us what theyowe us is to give us the pleasure of seeing them wedded here. "

Mr. Archibald rose to his feet. "No, madam!" said he. "I am willing, to acertain extent, to make this house a source of hymeneal felicity, but Idraw the line at the bishop. I do not intend that my home shall become amatrimonial factory!"

THE END

By MARIA LOUISE POOL

THE RED-BRIDGE NEIGHBORHOOD. Illustrated by Clifford Carleton. $1 50. 

IN THE FIRST PERSON. $1 25. 

MRS. GERALD. Illustrated. $1 50. 

AGAINST HUMAN NATURE. $1 25. 

OUT OF STEP. $1 25. 

THE TWO SALOMES. $1 25. 

KATHARINE NORTH. $1 25. 

MRS. KEATS BRADFORD. $1 25. 

ROWENY IN BOSTON. $1 25. 

DALLY. $1 25. 

Novels. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. 

The author's narrative gift is as nearly perfect as one couldwish. --_Chicago Interior. _

Miss Pool's novels have the characteristic qualities of Americanlife. They have an indigenous flavor. The author is on her own ground, instinct with American feeling and purpose. --_New York Tribune. _

Miss Pool is one of the most distinctive and powerful of novelistsof the period, and she well maintains her reputation in thisinstance. --_Philadelphia Telegraph. _

HARPER & BROTHERS, PublishersNEW YORK AND LONDON

Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any partof the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price. 

By CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER

THAT FORTUNE. Post 8vo, Half Leather, $1 50. 

"That Fortune" is a vivid and powerful portrayal of New York life. It is the third in a trilogy, being in a way a sequel to "A Little Journeyin the World" and "The Golden House. "

THE PEOPLE FOR WHOM SHAKESPEARE WROTE. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, Deckel Edges and Gilt Top, $1 25. 

THE RELATION OF LITERATURE TO LIFE. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 50. (In "Harper's Contemporary Essayists. ")

THE GOLDEN HOUSE. Illustrated by W. T. Smedley. Post 8vo, Ornamental Half Leather, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $2 00. 

A LITTLE JOURNEY IN THE WORLD. A Novel. Post 8vo, Half Leather, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 50; Paper, 75 cents. 

THEIR PILGRIMAGE. Illustrated by C. S. Reinhart. Post8vo, Half Leather, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $2 00. 

STUDIES IN THE SOUTH AND WEST, with Comments on Canada. Post 8vo, Half Leather, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 75. 

AS WE GO. With Portrait and Illustrations. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 00. (In "Harper's American Essayists. ")

AS WE WERE SAYING. With Portrait and Illustrations. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 00. (In "Harper's American Essayists. ")

THE WORK OF WASHINGTON IRVING. With Portraits. 32mo, Cloth, Ornamental, 50 cents. (In Black and White Series. )

Mr. Warner has such a fine fancy, such a genial humor, that onenever tires of him. --_Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. _

HARPER & BROTHERS, PublishersNEW YORK AND LONDON

Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to anypart of the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price. 

By MARY E. WILKINS

SILENCE, and Other Stories. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 

JEROME, A POOR MAN. A Novel. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 50. 

MADELON. A Novel. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 

PEMBROKE. A Novel. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 50. 

JANE FIELD. A Novel. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 

A NEW ENGLAND NUN, and Other Stories. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 

A HUMBLE ROMANCE, and Other Stories. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 

YOUNG LUCRETIA, and Other Stories. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 

GILES COREY, YEOMAN. A Play. Illustrated. 32mo, Cloth, Ornamental, 50 cents. 

Mary E. Wilkins writes of New England country life, analyzes NewEngland country character, with the skill and deftness of one who knowsit through and through, and yet never forgets that, while realistic, sheis first and last an artist. --_Boston Advertiser. _

Miss Wilkins has attained an eminent position among her literarycontemporaries as one of the most careful, natural, and effective writersof brief dramatic incident. Few surpass her in expressing the homelypathos of the poor and ignorant, while the humor of her stories is quiet, pervasive, and suggestive. --_Philadelphia Press. _

It takes just such distinguished literary art as Mary E. Wilkinspossesses to give an episode of New England its soul, pathos, and poetry. --_N. Y. Times. _

The pathos of New England life, its intensities of repressed feeling, itshomely tragedies, and its tender humor, have never been better told thanby Mary E. Wilkins. --_Boston Courier. _

The simplicity, purity, and quaintness of these stories set them apartin a niche of distinction where they have no rivals. --_Literary World_, Boston. 

The charm of Miss Wilkins's stories is in her intimate acquaintanceand comprehension of humble life, and the sweet human interest shefeels and makes her readers partake of, in the simple, common, homelypeople she draws. --_Springfield Republican. _

HARPER & BROTHERS, PublishersNEW YORK AND LONDON

Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any partof the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price. 

By RICHARD HARDING DAVIS

A YEAR FROM A REPORTER'S NOTE-BOOK. Illustrated by R. Caton Woodville, T. De Thulstrup, and Frederic Remington, and from Photographstaken by the Author. $1 50. 

THREE GRINGOS IN VENEZUELA AND CENTRAL AMERICA. Illustrated. $1 50. 

ABOUT PARIS. Illustrated by C. D. Gibson. $1 25. 

THE PRINCESS ALINE. Illustrated by C. D. Gibson. $1 25. 

THE EXILES, AND OTHER STORIES. Illustrated. $1 50. 

VAN BIBBER, AND OTHERS. Illustrated by C. D. Gibson. $1 00; Paper, 60 cents. 

THE WEST FROM A CAR-WINDOW. Illustrated by Frederic Remington. $1 25. 

OUR ENGLISH COUSINS. Illustrated. $1 25. 

THE RULERS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. Illustrated. $1 25. 

Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental

Mr. Davis has eyes to see, is not a bit afraid to tell what hesees, and is essentially good natured. .. . Mr. Davis's faculty ofappreciation and enjoyment is fresh and strong: he makes vividpictures. --_Outlook_, N. Y. 

Richard Harding Davis never writes a short story that he doesnot prove himself a master of the art. --_Chicago Times. _

HARPER & BROTHERS, PublishersNEW YORK AND LONDON

Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, toany part of the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of theprice. 

By LILIAN BELL

THE INSTINCT OF STEP-FATHERHOOD. Stories. 

The spirit of fun is found to a greater or less degree in all of thesketches, but at times the fun borders on the tragic so closely thatthe dividing line between laughter and tears almost fades out ofsight. --_Brooklyn Eagle. _

FROM A GIRL'S POINT OF VIEW. 

The author is so good-humored, quaint, and clever that she hasnot left a dull page in her book. --_Saturday Evening Gazette_, Boston. 

A LITTLE SISTER TO THE WILDERNESS. A Novel. New Edition. 

Written from the heart and with rare sympathy. .. . The writerhas a natural and fluent style, and her dialect has the double excellenceof being novel and scanty. The scenes are picturesque anddiversified. --_Churchman_, N. Y. 

THE UNDER SIDE OF THINGS. A Novel. With a Portrait of the Author. 

This is a tenderly beautiful story. .. . This book is Miss Bell'sbest effort, and most in the line of what we hope to see her proceedin, dainty and keen and bright, and always full of the fine warmthand tenderness of splendid womanhood. --_Interior_, Chicago. 

THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF AN OLD MAID. 

So much sense, sentiment, and humor are not often united in asingle volume. --_Observer_, N. Y. 

16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $1 25 per volume. 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PublishersNEW YORK AND LONDON

Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, toany part of the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of theprice.