[Illustration: THE SUPPER [Page 37]]
THE
ASSOCIATE HERMITS
By
Frank R. Stockton
Author of
"The Great Stone of Sardis"
With Illustrations by A. B. Frost
[Illustration]
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & 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 as
can be imagined, yet as plausible and real-seeming as a legal
document.... 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 semblance
of matters of fact. Through the narrative runs a love interest which
Mr. 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 239
XXVIII. The Hermits Continue to Favor Association 248
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE 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 a
suburb of one of our large towns. Fortune had favored them in many
ways--in health and in a good average happiness. They had reached early
middle age, and their daughter Kate, their only child, had grown up to be
a beautiful and good young woman, and was on the point of marrying a young
lawyer--Rodney Bringhurst by name--in every way worthy of her.
Hector Archibald was a little man, with small bright eyes, and hair
slightly touched with gray and very much inclined to curl. His disposition
was lively. He had a strong liking for cheerful occurrences, and was
always 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 ended
with oysters on the half-shell, he would have given the unusual meal a
most animated consideration, although he might have utterly withheld any
subsequent approbation. As a general thing, he revolved in an orbit where
one 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 suitable
and interesting, he was perfectly willing to fly off on it.
The disposition of Mrs. Hector Archibald was different. She was born to be
guided by customs, fashions, and forms. She believed it was the duty of a
married woman to make her home happy, and she did it. But she also
believed that in the best domestic circles there were rules and usages for
domestic happiness which would apply to every domestic condition and
contingency. It frequently troubled her, however, to find that certain
customs, forms, or usages of domestic society had changed, and being of a
conservative turn of mind, it was difficult for her to adapt herself to
these changes. But, thoroughly loyal to the idea that what was done by
people she loved and people she respected ought also to be done by her,
she earnestly strove to fit herself to new conditions, especially when she
saw that by not doing so she would be out of touch with her family and her
friends.
Now of course the wedding of their daughter was the only thing in the
world that seemed of real importance to Mr. and Mrs. Archibald, and for
this all preparations and plans had been agreed upon and made with great
good-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. They
believed that this old-fashioned custom was unnecessary, troublesome,
commonplace, and stupid. In the gardens and grounds of the Archibald
mansion, and in the beautiful surrounding country, they had loved each
other as lovers, and among these scenes they wished to begin to love each
other as a married couple. Why should such distasteful and unpleasant
ingredients as railroad-cars, steamboats, and hotels be dashed into the
pleasing mixture of their new lives? It had been arranged that for a year
or two, at least, they should live in Kate's dear old home, and why should
they not immediately begin that life there?
Mr. Archibald did not favor this plan, and his wife was strongly opposed
to 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, with
each 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 conform
her ideas to the domestic customs of the day, her daughter Kate cherished
the belief that the domestic customs of the day ought to conform
themselves 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 and
father can take it and we will stay here. Here are servants, books, things
to eat, and everything our hearts can desire, and here we would really
feel as if we were beginning life as man and wife. As for you two, you
both need a vacation, and nothing could be more perfectly appropriate and
more 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 his
daughter to his breast. It suited him admirably, and he declared that all
business and engagements of every kind should be set aside, and that he
would be ready to start on the wedding-journey with Mrs. Archibald the
moment 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 a
little she began to make objections. This was easy enough, for they
crowded into her mind like sheep into a pen; but every objection, as she
brought it forth, was ruthlessly set aside or crushed to earth by her
daughter or her husband, assisted by her expectant son-in-law, of whom she
declared 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 this
absurd wedding-journey. But the good lady's mental troubles were not over
when she had given her consent. As this scheme had been devised by those
dearest to her on earth, and as it was certain, these dearest persons
assured her, to meet with the approbation of all people of advanced
thought--at least of those whose thought had advanced far enough to make
it worthy of their consideration--she felt that in doing her part she
ought 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 that
young bride's place was a very difficult thing for Mrs. Archibald to do
honestly and with her whole heart. But she would try to do it. Whatever
else happened, her family must be kept happy, and it should never be said
of her that she hung like a millstone around the combined neck of that
family when it was unitedly climbing towards altitudes of felicity, which,
although she was not able to discern them, must exist, since that fact had
been so earnestly insisted upon by Mr. Archibald, Kate, and Rodney
Bringhurst.
Thus was this exceptional hymeneal performance decided upon, and at eleven
o'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 that
afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Hector Archibald departed on the wedding-trip,
leaving behind Mr. and Mrs. Bringhurst at home with each other, and "not
at home" to the world.
CHAPTER II
ENTER MARGERY
At four o'clock on the afternoon of June 6th Mr. and Mrs. Hector Archibald
arrived at a family hotel in the capital of their state. Where they should
go from there had not been decided upon. Nothing in regard to their
wedding-journey had been decided upon except that they were to return to
their home on the 6th of July of that year, and not before. It would have
been impossible, with their minds filled with bridal arrangements, for
them to make plans for their journey. But at this first stopping-place,
where they were free from all responsibility and interruptions, they
could, 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 they
went to the theatre, and after the performance they had a little supper at
a restaurant.
"People may not think we are a newly married pair," said Mr. Archibald, as
he poured out a glass of wine for his wife, "but it is not impossible that
they 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 mountain
retreats and sea-side resorts, and he and his wife sat down to study
these, and to decide upon a destination and a route. After an hour or two
of indeterminate examination Mr. Archibald declared himself a little
tired, and proposed that they should take a recess from their labors and
go 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 I
do not care to announce to everybody the peculiarities of the expedition
which we have undertaken, I do not mind in the least telling the Stanley
Dearborns all about it. Stanley himself would not appreciate it; he would
consider it absurd; but then he is not at home at this time of day, and
Mrs. 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 some
good place for us to go to."
Mrs. Dearborn was at home, and very glad to see the Archibalds. She was a
woman whose soul was in touch with the higher education of women--with
female suffrage, the emancipation of the enslaved mind wherever it might
be found, and with progress generally. She was a member of many societies,
belonged to committees without end, wrote reports and minutes by day and
by night, and was one of that ever-increasing class of good people who
continually walk forward in order that their weight may help the world to
turn 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 she
learned what sort of a journey the Archibalds were taking. In this
merriment Mr. Archibald joined with great glee.
"Ever since I left home," he said, "I have wanted to have a chance for a
good laugh at this trip we are taking. It is the most delightful joke I
have ever known."
Mrs. Archibald could not help smiling, but her brow was clouded. "If this
expedition is merely a joke," she said, "I do not think we should have
undertaken it; but if it is an earnest assertion of our belief that there
should be a change in the customs of society, then I think we should take
it seriously, and I see nothing to laugh at."
"My dear Harriet," said Mrs. Dearborn, "we can be good and glad at the
same time; and that is what I am, I am sure. What you are doing is the
initiation of one of the most worthy reforms of the day, and if it should
have an effect in breaking up that wretched custom of the bridal tramp,
which is considered so necessary in this country, society should rise up
and call you blessed. But it is funny, for all that. I am sure that the
first woman who dared to go without crinoline was very funny, and when I
heard of a hospital for cats I could not help laughing; but I believed in
it, and worked for it. And now where are you going?"
"That is what we want to talk to you about," said Mr. Archibald; and for
half an hour they talked about it.
At the end of that time it was decided that the mountains were better than
the sea or than a quiet lowland nook; and Mrs. Dearborn strongly
recommended Sadler's, where she and her husband had spent a part of a
summer a few years before.
"We camped out," said she, "and had a fine time. You can camp out at
Sadler's more easily and satisfactorily than anywhere else in the world."
Camping suited Mr. Archibald admirably, and, to his surprise, his wife
said she might like it very well.
"If people are going to laugh at us," she said, "when they find out we are
on a wedding-journey--and they will be sure to find it out in some way or
other--I think the fewer people we mingle with the better. I do not think
I shall like camping altogether, but I know it is healthful, and I suppose
I 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 and
cook."
"My dear Harriet," said Mrs. Dearborn, "if you are at Sadler's, you can go
into 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 the
forest country, and away from all the centres of resort. He calls his
place the terminal link of public travel in that direction. When you leave
him you travel privately in any way you like. He has established what he
has named a bureau of camping, and he furnishes his patrons with any sort
of a camp they may desire. If the party is few in number and of a timid
disposition, they can have a camp within shouting distance of his house.
If they are brave and adventurous, he will send them out into the depths
of the forest. If they like water, he locates them by the shores of a
lake. If climbing is their passion, he puts them at the foot of a
mountain. Those who want to hunt can do so, and those who dislike
fire-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, look
over his list of camps, and select one to suit us."
"By-the-way," said Mrs. Dearborn, "a thought has struck me. How would you
like to take Margery with you?"
"Margery!" exclaimed Mr. Archibald. "That delightful little girl whom I
taught to ride a tricycle when you were visiting us? I would like it ever
so much."
It struck Mrs. Archibald that people on bridal trips did not generally
take children or young girls with them, but it also struck her that if
they were going into camp it might be pleasant and in many ways
advantageous to have some one of her own sex with her; but she had no time
to formulate these advantages in her mind before Mrs. Dearborn explained
in full.
"Since Mr. Dearborn and I came home from Sadler's," she said, "Margery has
been perfectly wild to go there, and as soon as the leaves began to bud in
the parks she began to talk about it. We saw no possible chance of her
going there, for her father is too busy to leave home for any length of
time this season, and I cannot go to the mountains this year, for I must
visit my sister, who is not well, and there are three summer conventions
that I am obliged to attend. But if you could take her with you, I do not
believe she would trouble you in the least, and you would give her great
pleasure. Moreover, to speak practically, which I think we always ought to
do, it would not be a bad thing on the score of economy, for things are
always proportionately cheaper for three people in a camp than for two."
A great many advantages of female companionship now began to creep into
Mrs. Archibald's mind: if her husband should take it into his head to go
out and hunt at night by the light of a torch; if there should be
thunder-storms, and he away with the guide; if he should want to go off
and talk to Indians or trappers, and he always did want to go off and talk
to people of every class--it would be very pleasant to have even Margery
Dearborn with her. So she consented with great good-will to her friend's
proposition, and Mrs. Dearborn was much pleased and thankful.
"Margery is a true creature of impulse," she said; "that is really her
predominating characteristic, and she will want to bound to the ceiling
when she hears she is to go to Sadler's. She is not at home now, but she
will be in very soon. You must take luncheon with us."
About a quarter of an hour after that Margery Dearborn came home. She was
very glad indeed to see the Archibalds, whom she remembered as the kindest
of people; and when she heard they were going to take her to Sadler's, she
gave a scream of delight and threw herself upon Mrs. Archibald's neck.
"You are an angel," she cried, "an angel of blessedness, my dear Aunt
Harriet! Don't you remember, I used to call you that? Won't you let me
call you so still?" And without waiting for an answer, she rushed to Mr.
Archibald, with outstretched hands. "Dear Uncle Archibald, you are just as
good as ever, I see. You know, I wouldn't call you Uncle Hector, because
hectoring 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 some
things we will need for camp-life, and we can start on Monday."
When the visitors were left to themselves for a few moments, Mr. Archibald
said to his wife, "Harriet, I am astounded. This girl, who used to ride
bareback 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 with
us."
"Mr. Archibald," said his wife, "you never can remember that in this world
people 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't
see 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 woman
is to my age the better."
"All right," said Mr. Archibald; "if you are satisfied, I am; and, if she
will agree to it, we will add our ages for the time being, and divide by
three, 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, and
with feelings of relief alighted from the cramped stage-coach which had
brought 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 over
that 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 of
forests and wilds and tumbling mountain streams and a general air of
primevalism, and I am surprised to see this fine hotel with piazzas, and
croquet-grounds, and tennis-courts, and gravelled walks, and babies in
their 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 far
from the clerk's desk, there sat a large, handsome man, a little past
middle 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 the
hotel, the legal owner of a great deal of the neighboring country, and the
actual ruler of more of said country than could be easily marked out upon
a map or stated in surveyors' terms.
In fact, Peter Sadler, was king of that portion of the vast district of
mountain and forest which could be reached in a day's journey in any
direction. If he had wished to extend his domain to points at a greater
distance than this he would have done so, but so far he was satisfied with
the rights he had asserted. He ruled supreme in that region because he had
lived longer in the vicinity than any other white man, because he had a
powerful will which did not brook opposition, and because there was no one
to oppose him.
[Illustration: "'CAN THIS BE SADLER'S?'"]
On the arable land which lay outside of the forest, and which really
belonged 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 cabins
of the hunters and guides he employed, and these men knew no law but his
will. Of course the laws of the State covered the district, but such
promulgation and enforcement of these as he might consider necessary were
generally left to Peter Sadler, and as to his own laws, he was always
there to see that these were observed.
His guests submitted themselves to his will, or they left his hotel very
soon. To people of discernment and judgment it was not difficult to submit
to the will of this full-bearded, broad-chested man, who knew so much
better than they did what they ought to do if they wanted to get all the
good out of Sadler's which they were capable of assimilating.
This man, who sat all day in a big rolling-chair, and who knew everything
that was going on in the hotel, the farm, and the forest about him, had
been 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 for
him ever to walk again, he came back to the scenes of his youth and
established an inn for sportsmen--a poor little house at first, which grew
and grew and grew, until it was the large, well-kept hotel so widely known
by his name.
After dinner, at which meal they were waited upon by women, and not by men
in evening-dress as Margery had begun to fear, Mr. Archibald sought Peter
Sadler and made known to him the surprise of his party at finding
themselves 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 find
some sort of a preparatory camping-ground in the woods, from which we
could go out and have a camp of our own."
"That's just what you have found," said Sadler. "In this house you prepare
to camp, if you need preparation. If any man, woman, or child comes here
and wants to go out to camp, and I see that they are sickly or weak or in
any way not fit to live in the woods, I don't let them go one step until
they are fit for it. The air and the food and the water they get here will
make them fit, if anything will do it, and if these three things don't set
them up they simply have to go back where they came from. They can't go
into camp from this house. But if they fancy this hotel--and there isn't
any reason why anybody shouldn't fancy it--they can stay here as long as
they like, and I'll take care of them. Now, sir, if you want to go into
camp, the first thing for you to do is to bring your family here and let
me take a look at them. I've seen them, of course, but I haven't made up
my mind yet whether they are the right sort for camp life. As for you, I
think 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 more
of camp life than anything I have noticed here. I will go and bring my
wife 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 when
anything of that kind is on hand I want to talk to the whole party. I
don't care to settle the business with one of them, and then have him come
back and say that what has been agreed upon don't suit the others. I want
a full meeting or no session."
When Mr. Archibald returned with his wife and Margery, he found Peter
Sadler had rolled his chair up to a large circular table at the back of
the hall, on which was spread a map of the forest. He greeted the ladies
in a loud voice and with a cheery smile.
"And so you want to go camping, do you?" said he. "Sit down and let us
talk 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 hungry
and had nothing else. As for you, madam, you don't appear as if anything
in particular was the matter with you, and I should think you could stand
a Number Three camp well enough, and be all the better for a week or two
of 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. Our
Number One camps are pretty rough. They are for hunters and scientific
people. We give them game enough in season, and some bare places where
they can make fires and stretch a bit of canvas. That is all they want, to
have a truly good time. That is the best camp of all, I think. Number Two
camps are generally for fishermen. They always want a chance for pretty
good living when they are out in the woods. They stay in camp in the
evenings, and like to sit around and have a good time. Number Threes are
the best camps we put families into, so you see, madam, I'm rating you
pretty high. There's always a log-cabin in these camps, with cots and
straw 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 as
walking or boating, according to circumstances. There's one of our camps
has a croquet-ground."
"Oh, we don't want that!" cried Margery, "it would simply ruin every
illusion that is left to me."
"Glad to hear that," said Peter. "If you want to play croquet, stay at the
hotel; that's what I say. Now, then, here are the camps, and there's
plenty of them to choose from. You've come in a good time, for the season
isn't fairly begun yet. Next month every camp will be full, with the hotel
crowded with people waiting for their turns."
"What we want," said Margery, rising and looking over the map, "is the
wildest Number Three you have."
"Oh, ho!" said Peter. "Not so fast, miss; perhaps we'll wait and see what
this lady has to say first. If I'm not mistaken, madam, I think you're
inclined the other way, and I don't put people into camps that they will
be wanting to leave after the first rainy day. Now let me show you what
I've got. Here is one, four hours' walk, horses for women, with a rocky
stream 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; we
don't make camps in pasture-fields. Even the Number Sevens, where the
meals are sent to the campers from the hotel, and they have bath-tubs, are
in the woods. Now here is another one, about three miles west from the one
I just showed you, but the same distance from here. This, you see, is on
the shore of a lake, with fishing, boating, and bathing, if you can stand
cold water."
"Glorious!" cried Margery. "That is exactly what we want. A lake will be
simply heavenly!"
"Everything seems to suit you, miss," said Peter, "just as soon as you
hear of it. But suppose we consider more of them before you choose. Some
two miles north of here, in the thickest of the forest, in a clearing that
I made, there is a small camp that strikes the fancy of some people. There
is a little stream there and it has fish in it too, and it runs through
one corner of the log-cabin, so there are seven or eight feet of the
stream inside the house, and on rainy days you can sit there and fish; and
some people like to go to sleep with the running water gurgling close to
them where they can hear it when they are in bed. Then there's an owl to
this camp. The men heard him there when they were making the clearing, and
he's never left the spot. Some people who were out there said they never
felt as much away from the world as they did listening to that little
stream gurgling and that owl hooting."
"I believe," exclaimed Margery, "that in a place like that I could write
poetry!"
"It would give me the rheumatism and the blues," said Mrs. Archibald, upon
which Peter Sadler exclaimed,
"That settles that. Now then, here is another."
Several other camps were considered, but it was the general conclusion
that the one by the lake was the most desirable. It had a good cabin with
three rooms, with plenty of open space, near by, for the tents of the
guides; there was a boat which belonged to the camp, and in every way it
seemed so suitable that Mr. Archibald secured it. He thought the price was
rather high, but as it included guides, provisions, fishing-tackle, and in
fact everything needed, he considered that although it might cost as much
as 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 of
the conference.
"That's about your twenty-seventh question, miss," said Peter, "but it's
one 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 out
there named it that, and it stuck to it, and it's all it's got. Camps are
like horses--we've got to tell them apart, and so we give them names, and
that's Camp Rob."
CHAPTER IV
A CATARACT OF INFORMATION
Peter Sadler would have been glad to have the Archibald party stay at his
hotel for a few days, and Mrs. Archibald would have been perfectly
satisfied to remain there until they were ready to return to their own
house, but her husband and Margery were impatient to be in the woods, and
it was therefore decided to start for the camp the next day. Peter Sadler
was 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 I
think I'll give you Phil Matlack. Phil is an old hand at the business, and
if you don't know what you want, he'll tell you. If you are in Phil's
hands, you needn't be afraid anything will happen to you. Whatever you
want, ask him for it, and ten to one he'll have it, whether it's
information or fishhooks. I tell you again, you're lucky to be here early
and get the best of everything. Camp Rob with Phil Matlack will stand at a
premium in three or four weeks from now."
That evening after supper Mr. Archibald lighted a cigar and went out into
the grounds in front of the hotel, where he was presently joined by his
wife.
"Where is Margery?" asked he.
"She is in her room," replied Mrs. Archibald, "but she called to me that
she would be down directly."
In about ten minutes down came Margery and floated out upon the lawn. She
was 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 that
fashion?" she asked Margery. "I did not suppose you would bring such a
fine gown, as we started out to go into camp. And even in this hotel a
travelling-suit is good enough for any one."
"Oh, I tucked this into one of my bags," replied Margery. "I always like
to have something nice to fall back upon. Don't you want to take a little
stroll, 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 wife
and 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 two
men, and neither of them wore a tennis-suit. One was attired as a
bicyclist, and the other wore ordinary summer clothes. The young women
were dressed in dark-blue flannel and little round hats, which suggested
to 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 still
beautiful, although its colors were fading, and after a time he looked
back towards his wife. She was now talking to the two elderly ladies on
the bench, and Margery was engaged in conversation with the girl with the
plait down her back.
"When I finish my cigar," thought Mr. Archibald, "I will go myself and
take 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. After
contemplating the tops of some forest trees against the greenish-yellow of
the middle sky, he turned his eyes again towards his wife, and found that
the two elderly ladies had made room for her on the bench, that the
tennis-game had ceased, and that one of the girls in blue flannel had
joined this group and was talking to Margery.
In a few moments all the ladies on the bench rose, and Mrs. Archibald and
one of them walked slowly towards an opening in the woods. The other lady
followed with the little girl, and Margery and the young woman in blue
walked in the same direction, but not in company with the rest of the
party. The two young men, with the other tennis-player between them,
walked over from the tennis-court and joined the first group, and they all
stopped just as they reached the woods. There they stood and began talking
to each other, after which one of the young men and the young woman
approached a large tree, and he poked with a stick into what was probably
a hole near its roots, and Mr. Archibald supposed that the discussion
concerned a snake-hole or a hornets' nest. Then Margery and the other
young woman came up, and they looked at the hole. Now the whole company
walked into the woods and disappeared. In about ten minutes Mr. Archibald
finished his cigar and was thinking of following his wife and Margery,
when the two elderly ladies and Mrs. Archibald came out into the open and
walked towards the hotel. Then came the little girl, running very fast as
she 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 a
little 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 girl
in dark-blue flannel on each side of him.
"Upon my word!" exclaimed Mr. Archibald, and rising to his feet, advanced
towards his wife; but before he reached her, Margery emerged from the wood
road, escorted by the young man in the summer suit.
"Upon my word," Mr. Archibald remarked, this time to his wife, "that ward
of ours is not given to wasting time."
"It seems so, truly," said she, "and I think her mother was right when she
called her a creature of impulse. Let us wait here until they come up. We
must 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. "My
uncle 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 just
before supper-time, and I think we ought all to be very careful how we
pass 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 can
kill him. It's a bad place for a snake to have a hole, just where ladies
would be apt to take their walks."
"I don't think the snake will trouble us much," said Mrs. Archibald, "for
we 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. Clyde
bade them good-evening.
"How in the world, Margery," said Mrs. Archibald, "did you get acquainted
so quickly with that young man--and who is he?"
"Oh, it all happened quite naturally," said she. "As we turned to go out
of the woods he was the gentleman nearest to me, and so of course he came
with me. Those two girls are sisters, and their name is Dodworth. They
introduced Mr. Clyde and the other gentleman, Mr. Raybold, to me. But that
was 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 short
dress! She doesn't begin to look old enough. The Dodworths don't go into
camp at all, but expect to stay here for two weeks longer, and then they
go to the sea-shore. Mrs. Henderson leaves day after to-morrow.
"Mr. Clyde and his friend live in Boston. They are both just beginning to
practise law, though Mr. Clyde says that Mr. Raybold would rather be an
actor, but his family objects. The old gentleman who is walking up and
down in front of the hotel has heart-disease, some people say--but that is
not certain. He stayed here all last summer, and perhaps he will this
year. In two weeks hardly any of the people now in this hotel will be
here. One family is going into camp when the father and two sons come on
to 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 little
purple cap. She's a school-teacher, and she will spend the rest of the
summer with her sister in Pennsylvania.
"That man Phil Matlack, who is going with us to-morrow, is quite a
character, and I expect I shall like him awfully. They say that about five
years ago he killed a man who made an attack on him in the woods, but he
was 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 a
bear single-handed if it happened to be necessary. Mr. Sadler would do it
himself if he could walk. Nobody knows how many men he killed when he was
fighting 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 sees
her, 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 Martin
Sanders, and I forgot to say that the old gentleman with the heart-disease
is named Parker.
"It's generally thought that Phil Matlack would rather have some one else
than 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 some
good business, but he was so fond of the woods that he gave up everything
to come out here and learn guiding. You know we were told that our camp in
the woods has three rooms in it? Well, it really has four, for there was
an artist there last year who built a little room for a studio for rainy
days. 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 miles
farther on there are lots of them."
"Over the brink of Niagara," interjected Mr. Archibald, "they say eighteen
million 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 feels
badly about it, because he brought it here, and now he finds there is no
place to use it. I should think he ought to have known that the primeval
forest 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 camp
to-day, but now I am quite of your mind."
Tuesday was fine, and preparations were made for the Archibald party to
start for their camp after an early luncheon.
The bluff and hearty Peter took such an interest in everything that was
being done for their comfort, giving special heed to all the possible
requirements of Mrs. Archibald, that the heart of Mr. Archibald was
touched.
"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 I
have been able to make you out, you are the sort of a man I'd be willing
to run a camp for. What I like about you is that you haven't any mind of
your own. There is nothing I hate worse than to run against a man with a
mind of his own. Of course there have to be such fellows, but let them
keep away from me. There is no room here for more than one mind, and I
have pre-empted the whole section."
Mr. Archibald laughed. "Your opinion of me does not sound very
complimentary," he said.
"It is complimentary!" roared Peter Sadler, striking the table with his
fist. "Why, I tell you, sir, I couldn't say anything more commendable of
you if I tried! It shows that you are a man of common-sense, and that's
pretty high praise. Everything I've told you to do you've done. Everything
I've proposed you've agreed to. You see for yourself that I know what is
better for you and your party than you do, and you stand up like a man and
say so. Yes, sir; if a rolling-chair wasn't as bad for the woods as the
bicycle 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 enjoyment
of a comical situation he liked company. His heart was stirred to put his
expedition in its true light before this man who was so honest and
plain-spoken. "Mr. Sadler," said he, "if you will take it as a piece of
confidential information, and not intended for the general ear, I will
tell you what sort of a holiday my wife and I are taking. We are on a
wedding-journey." And then he told the story of the proxy bridal tour.
Peter Sadler threw himself back in his chair and laughed with such great
roars that two hunting-dogs, who were asleep in the hall, sprang to their
feet 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 of
giants. I don't say anything about that young woman, for I don't believe
it would have made any difference to her whether you were on a
wedding-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 mind
that 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 of
good 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 very
best whiskey that ever a human being took into the woods, and a jar of
smoking-tobacco a great deal too good for any king on any throne. They
belong to my private stock, and I am proud to make them a present to a man
who will take a wedding-trip to save his grown-up daughter the trouble. As
for your wife, there'll be a basket that will go to her with my
compliments, that will show her what I think of her. By-the-way, sir, have
you met Phil Matlack?"
"No, I have not!" exclaimed Mr. Archibald, with animation. "I have heard
something about him, and before we start I should like to see the man who
is going to take charge of us in camp."
"Well, there he is, just passing the back door. Hello, Phil! come in
here."
When the eminent guide, Phil Matlack, entered the hall, Mr. Archibald
looked at him with some surprise, for he was not the conventional tall,
gaunt, wiry, keen-eyed backwoodsman who had naturally appeared to his
mental vision. This man was of medium height, a little round-shouldered,
dressed in a gray shirt, faded brown trousers very baggy at the knees, a
pair of conspicuous blue woollen socks, and slippers made of carpet. His
short beard and his hair were touched with gray, and he wore a small
jockey cap. With the exception of his eyes, Mr. Matlack's facial features
were large, and the expression upon them was that of a mild and generally
good-natured tolerance of the world and all that is in it. It may be
stated that this expression, combined with his manner, indicated also a
desire on his part that the world and all that is in it should tolerate
him. Mr. Archibald's first impressions of the man did not formulate
themselves in these terms; he simply thought that the guide was a slipshod
sort of a fellow.
"Phil," said Mr. Sadler, "here is the gentleman you are going to take into
camp."
"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 believe
you ever had a better one. He's a city man, and it's my opinion he don't
know one thing about hunting, fishing, making a camp-fire, or even digging
bait. I don't suppose he ever spent a night outside of a house, and
doesn't know any more about the weather than he does about planting
cabbages. 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 if
you 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 leaning
back 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's
character when I've had a good chance at him? Now how about the
stores--have they all gone on?"
"They were sent out early this mornin'," said Matlack, "and we can start
as soon as the folks are ready."
CHAPTER V
CAMP ROB
It was early in the afternoon when the Archibald party took up the line of
march for Camp Rob. The two ladies, supplied by Mrs. Sadler with coarse
riding-skirts, sat each upon a farm-horse, and Mr. Archibald held the
bridle of the one that carried his wife. Matlack and Martin Sanders, the
young man who was to assist him, led the way, while a led horse, loaded
with the personal baggage of the travellers, brought up the rear.
