"I'd 'a' thought, sir, you'd 'a' asked him that before you came,"said old John, in a tone that seemed to indicate that he had his doubts about Mr. Ball.
"Oh, there'll be no trouble about that," cried Euphemia. "You can drive me past Mr. Ball's,--it's not much out of the way,--and I'll ask him.""In that wagon?" said I. "Will you stop at Mr. Ball's door in that?""Certainly," said she, as she arranged herself on the board which served as a seat. "Now that our campaign has really commenced, we ought to begin to rough it, and should not be too proud to ride even in a--in a--"She evidently couldn't think of any vehicle mean enough for her purpose.
"In a green-grocery cart," I suggested.
"Yes, or in a red one. Go ahead, John."
When Euphemia returned on foot, I had a fire in the camp-stove and the kettle was on.
"Well," said Euphemia, "Mr. Ball says it's all right, if we keep the fence up. He don't want his cows to get into the creek, and I'm sure we don't want 'em walking over us. He couldn't understand, though, why we wanted to live out here. I explained the whole thing to him very carefully, but it didn't seem to make much impression on him. I believe he thinks Pomona has something the matter with her, and that we have come to stay out here in the fresh air so as not to take it.""What an extremely stupid man Mr. Ball must be!" I said.
The fire did not burn very well, and while I was at work at it, Euphemia spread a cloth upon the grass, and set forth bread and butter, cheese, sardines, potted ham, preserves, biscuits, and a lot of other things.
We did not wait for the kettle to boil, but concluded to do without tea or coffee, for this meal, and content ourselves with pure water. For some reason or other, however, the creek water did not seem to be very pure, and we did not like it a bit.
"After lunch," said I, "we will go and look for a spring; that will be a good way of exploring the country.""If we can't find one," said Euphemia, "we shall have to go to the house for water, for I can never drink that stuff."Soon after lunch we started out. We searched high and low, near and far, for a spring, but could not find one.
At length, by merest accident, we found ourselves in the vicinity of old John's little house. I knew he had a good well, and so we went in to get a drink, for our ham and biscuits had made us very thirsty.
We told old John, who was digging potatoes, and was also very much surprised to see us so soon, about our unexpected trouble in finding a spring.
"No," said he, very slowly, "there is no spring very near to you.
Didn't you tell your gal to bring you water?""No," I replied; "we don't want her coming down to the camp. She is to attend to the house.""Oh, very well," said John; "I will bring you water, morning and night,--good, fresh water,--from my well, for,--well, for ten cents a day.""That will be nice," said Euphemia, "and cheap, too. And then it will be well to have John come every day; he can carry our letters.""I don't expect to write any letters."
"Neither do I," said Euphemia; "but it will be pleasant to have some communication with the outer world."So we engaged old John to bring us water twice a day. I was a little disappointed at this, for I thought that camping on the edge of a stream settled the matter of water. But we have many things to learn in this world.
Early in the afternoon I went out to catch some fish for supper.
We agreed to dispense with dinner, and have breakfast, lunch, and a good solid supper.
For some time I had poor luck. There were either very few fish in the creek, or they were not hungry.
I had been fishing an hour or more when I saw Euphemia running toward me.
"What's the matter?" said I.
"Oh! nothing. I've just come to see how you were getting along.
Haven't you been gone an awfully long time? And are those all the fish you've caught? What little bits of things they are! Ithought people who camped out caught big fish and lots of them?""That depends a good deal upon where they go," said I.
"Yes, I suppose so," replied Euphemia; "but I should think a stream as big as this would have plenty of fish in it. However, if you can't catch any, you might go up to the road and watch for Mr.
Mulligan. He sometimes comes along on Mondays.""I'm not going to the road to watch for any fish-man," I replied, a little more testily than I should have spoken. "What sort of a camping out would that be? But we must not be talking here or Ishall never get a bite. Those fish are a little soiled from jumping about in the dust. You might wash them off at that shallow place, while I go a little further on and try my luck."I went a short distance up the creek, and threw my line into a dark, shadowy pool, under some alders, where there certainly should be fish. And, sure enough, in less than a minute I got a splendid bite,--not only a bite, but a pull. I knew that I had certainly hooked a big fish! The thing actually tugged at my line so that Iwas afraid the pole would break. I did not fear for the line, for that, I knew, was strong. I would have played the fish until he was tired, and I could pull him out without risk to the pole, but Idid not know exactly how the process of "playing" was conducted. Iwas very much excited. Sometimes I gave a jerk and a pull, and then the fish would give a jerk and a pull.
Directly I heard some one running toward me, and then I heard Euphemia cry out:
"Give him the butt! Give him the butt!"
"Give him what?" I exclaimed, without having time even to look up at her.
"The butt! the butt!" she cried, almost breathlessly. "I know that's right! I read how Edward Everett Hale did it in the Adirondacks.""No, it wasn't Hale at all," said I, as I jumped about the bank;"it was Mr. Murray."
"Well, it was one of those fishing ministers, and I know that it caught the fish.""I know, I know. I read it, but I don't know how to do it.""Perhaps you ought to punch him with it," said she.
