The Associate Hermits. Frank Richard Stockton

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the meals waitin’. You see, we are pretty nigh the first people out this year, and the fish bite lively. Are you fond of fishin’, ma’am?”

      “No, indeed,” said she; “I dislike it. I think it is cruel and slimy and generally unpleasant.”

      “I expect you’ll spend most of your time in the boat,” suggested Matlack. “Your husband rows, don’t he?”

      “He doesn’t row me,” said Mrs. Archibald, with earnestness. “I never go out in a boat except with a regular boatman. I suppose you have a larger boat than the one that young man is in? I can see it from here, and it looks very small.”

      “No, ma’am,” said Matlack; “that’s the only one we’ve got. And now I guess I’ll go see about supper. This has been a lazy day for us, but we always do calc’late on a lazy day to begin with.”

      “It strikes me,” said Matlack to himself, as he walked away, “that this here camp will come to an end pretty soon. The man and the young woman could stand it for a couple of weeks, but there’s nothing here for the old lady, and it can’t be long before she’ll have us all out of the woods again.”

      “You can come in,” called Margery, about ten minutes after this conversation; and young Martin, who had not the least idea of going to sleep in the boat, dipped his oars in the water and rowed ashore, pulled the boat up on the beach, and then advanced to the spot where Margery was preparing to put away her drawing materials.

      “Would you mind letting me see your sketch?” said he.

      “Oh no,” said she; “but you’ll see it isn’t very much like the scene itself. When I make a drawing from nature I never copy everything I see just as if I were making a photograph. I suppose you think I ought to draw the boat just as it is, but I always put something of my own in my pictures. And that, you see, is a different kind of a boat from the one you were in. It is something like Venetian boats.”

      “It isn’t like anything in this part of the world, that is true,” said the young man, as he held the drawing in his hand; “and if it had been more like a gondola it would not have suited the scene. I think you have caught the spirit of the landscape very well; but if you don’t object to a little criticism, I should say that the shore over there is too near the foreground. It seems to me that the picture wants atmosphere; that would help the distance very much.”

      “Do you draw?” asked Margery, in surprise.

      “I used to be very fond of sketching,” said he. “I stayed at Sadler’s a good part of the last winter, and when I wasn’t out hunting I made a good many drawings of winter scenes. I would be glad to show them to you when we go back.”

      “Well,” said she, “if I had known you were an artist I would not have asked you to go out there and sit as a model.”

      “Oh, I am not an artist,” replied Martin; “I only draw, that’s all. But if you make any more water sketches and would like me to put some ducks or any other kind of wild-fowl in the foreground I will be glad to do it for you. I have made a specialty of natural-history drawings. Don’t bother yourself about that easel; I’ll carry up your things for you.”

      About half-way to the cabin Margery suddenly stopped and turned round towards the young man, who was following her. “How did you come to be a guide?” she asked.

      He smiled. “That’s because I was born a naturalist and a sportsman. I went into business when I finished my education, but I couldn’t stand that, and as I couldn’t afford to become a gentleman sportsman, I came here as a guide. I’m getting a lot of experience in this sort of life, and when I’ve saved money enough I’m going on an exploring expedition, most likely to Central America. That’s the kind of life that will suit me.”

      “And write a book about it?” asked Margery.

      “Most likely,” said he.

      That night, after supper, Margery remarked: “Our two guides are American citizens, and I don’t see why they can’t eat at the table with us instead of waiting until we have finished. We are all free and equal in the woods.”

      “Margery Dearborn!” exclaimed Mrs. Archibald. “What are you talking about?”

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

      “So long as they don’t want to do it, and don’t do it,” said she, “pray don’t let us say anything about it. Let’s try to make things as pleasant as we can.”

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

      “Harriet,” said he, “you have been too much alone to-day. I don’t know what I shall do to-morrow; but whatever it is, I am going to take you with me.”

      “Of course that depends on what it is you do,” she answered. “But I will try to do everything I can.”

      Mr. Archibald heaved a little sigh, which was not noticed by any one, because it sounded like a puff.

      “I am afraid,” he thought, “that this camping business is not going to last very much longer, and we shall be obliged to make the rest of our wedding-journey in a different style.”

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

      “Beautifully done!” said he. “A splendid stroke!” And then turning, he looked up the lake, and not far from the water’s edge he saw Margery walking with Mr. Clyde, while Mr. Raybold followed a little in the rear.

      “Harriet,” he cried, quickly stepping into the cabin again, “look out here! What is the meaning of this?”

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

      “I don’t know the meaning of anything that happens in these woods,” she said; “but if a lot of people have come from the hotel with those young men I cannot say I am sorry.”

      “Come,” said her husband, “we must look into this.”

      In two minutes the Archibalds had met the new-comers, who advanced with outstretched hands, as if they had been old friends. Mr. Archibald, not without some mental disquietude at this intrusion upon the woodland privacy of his party, was about to begin a series of questions, when he was forestalled by Margery.

      “Oh, Uncle Archibald and Aunt Harriet!” she exclaimed, “Mr. Clyde and Mr. Raybold have come out here to camp. Their camp is right next to ours, and it is called Camp Roy. You see, some years ago there was a large camping party came here, and they called the place Camp Rob Roy, but it was afterwards divided, and one part called Camp Rob and the other Camp Roy.”

      “Indeed!” interrupted Mr. Archibald. “Mr. Sadler did not tell us that ours was only half a camp with only half a name.”

СКАЧАТЬ