upper pond was truly a fairylike spot. slim white birches, tall oaks and towering pines were reflected in the glassy water which was fringed by bushes and flowering weeds, the doubles of which looked up from the still depths. as the paddles dipped into the quiet surface an eagle soared away from the top of a lofty pine tree. the water was so clear one could see the smooth pebbles and shining sand at the bottom of the pond, and as the canoes glided along, they and their occupants were mirrored below.
the party was variously divided; nan, to her joy, found herself in the same canoe as marcus wells, and watched him skilfully paddling in advance of the rest. “it reminds me of the gondolas on the grand canal,” she said presently.
“you’ve been to venice then. isn’t it great?”
“it is wonderful, though this is as much so in its way. paddling a canoe must be something like rowing a gondola.”
[214]“something, but i’d make an awkward figure as a gondolier.”
“did you ever try it? ever so many americans do.”
“i did, but though i managed to make the thing go, i knew the good antonio was secretly amused, for i am sure i was as stiff as a ramrod, just as all are who are not born to it.”
nan had her own ideas about this, but she did not contradict the young man. in her opinion he was grace itself, and she doubted if ever any gondolier surpassed him.
it was not a very long distance to the spot which mr. wells had chosen for their landing and here the hamper was set ashore. it had been something of a tug to get things over, but all had given a willing hand and so it was managed, yet all decided that it was none too soon to begin preparations for the lunch, as every one was tired and hungry. there was a small fireplace already built, showing that the spot was no new discovery.
“we are going to have some fish,” mr. wells told them as he threw out some rods and lines. “i’ll show whoever cares to go fishing, where he or she can get plenty of trout. then some one must gather wood and some can open the cans and set the table. here’s the table.” he indicated a large flat rock a convenient distance[215] from the fire. “to miss jo is given the high office of chief bacon fryer, and whoever will can undertake the coffee. now you know what is to be done, please pitch in.”
the gordon boys and hartley glenn voted for fishing, nan offered to make the coffee, mrs. corner and miss helen opened the hamper, mr. wells started the fire, while the rest gathered wood and set the table, all but jo who clung to her package of bacon and the frying-pan.
mr. wells was a most efficient host. he was everywhere, helping this one, joking with that, lugging water from a near-by spring, replenishing the fire. the fishermen, though a little dubious when they started off, were not a great while in returning with the fish which were set to cook on the flat stones heated for the purpose.
“i couldn’t have believed we’d be so lucky in so short a time,” said hartley. “this is a great place, wells. your discovery?”
“not exactly. i suppose some hundreds of years ago the indians made it a favorite camping ground for we find traces of them now and then, but i confess to have come upon it unawares one day when i was off prospecting for suitable subjects to paint. i haven’t written the place up, nor have i gone so far as to sound its praise too widely, so pray be cautious how[216] you let the public in on the ground floor as it were, or i’ll have to get the owner to put a fence around it.”
“then there is an owner?”
“yes, an old fellow who owns some acres of wild land of which this is a part. are we ready? i am sure those fish are done, don’t you think so, mrs. corner? try this one.” he deftly lifted the fish from the hot stone and offered it to mrs. corner on a bit of birch bark, a pile of which he had prepared to be used as plates. “some salt in that hamper, miss jo?”
jo managed to find it. then the coffee was rescued from the smoking fire, but only after the handle of the coffee-pot had dropped off. the tin cups, which all carried hanging from their belts, were filled, the remaining fish were dished up on the birch-bark plates and every one was served.
“i never tasted anything more delicious,” declared miss helen. “this is a feast for the gods.”
“and in a banquet hall to match,” said nan, “a very walhalla.”
“good name, miss nan,” cried their host. “walhalla it shall be from henceforth, for we are in a castle rock-bound and in the clouds.” he pointed to the craggy heights surrounding[217] the little pond which lay like an iridescent jewel in the midst of the green.
the hamper showed a surprising array of food for the locality and as each article was passed around some one would exclaim, “why, where did you get this?” blueberry pies, doughnuts, spice cakes, crackers, cheese, homemade bread and butter, jams and jellies, olives, and as a crowning dish, chicken salad.
“well, i never!” cried jo. “what a provider you are. how you managed to compass all this i can’t see.”
“how they managed to lug it all over here is what i can’t see,” said miss helen.
“we took turns, you know, and it was not so very heavy when we had put a pole through the handles of the hamper,” said ran.
“but where did you get fresh pies and fresh bread?” asked mrs. corner.
“i’ll let you into the secret, which after all isn’t much of one. i have a good friend in my neighbor, mrs. white, who, when given sufficient notice, can get me up almost anything. the salad i must confess to having been a little dubious about, but among the supplies pinch and i had sent from portland was a can of olive oil and i made the dressing myself, if you must know.” mr. wells was really a little abashed.
[218]“good boy!” cried dr. paul. “it takes an artist to do a thing up brown. you didn’t live four years in paris for nothing, marc.”
mary lee, with housewifely care, insisted that the remains of the feast should be packed away for future use and then while the older ladies rested under the shade of the trees, the younger ones declared for exploring the surroundings. they broke up into separate parties which went in different directions to meet later for the trip home.
mr. wells tossed his sketching kit into his canoe and looked a little hesitatingly at nan. “i wonder if you’d care to go to the head of the pond,” he said. “a little way up a small stream that i know of it is very lovely.” now was his chance to get a sketch of the girl who, in her big hat, short skirt, white jumper, with red handkerchief knotted around her throat, looked picturesque enough.
but when the opportunity was within her grasp nan was shy. she turned to her mother. “don’t you want me to read to you, mother?” she asked.
“why, no, dear, not if you would like to go. i’m sure mr. wells will take good care of you and it isn’t far.”
“no, quite near,” mr. wells assured her, more eager because of the apparent reluctance.[219] “it is just up there a little way. you could see the spot from here but for the foliage.”
nan turned to dr. paul, who was waiting, too, for her decision. “what are you going to do?” she asked.
“well, i haven’t quite made up my mind. mary lee, miss jo, miss daniella and miss glenn have gone off with hartley and the gordon boys, so if you go with marc, i shall probably devote myself to the twins. no one ever lacks entertainment where jack is.”
this decided nan. dr. paul would see to it that the twins were not neglected, and brought face to face with the choice of going with the doctor instead of the artist she found she could not withstand the temptation of the latter’s invitation. she had not shown herself eager and that was a satisfaction. so she stepped into the canoe and they pushed off. the canoe moved up the pond and was presently lost to sight in the bending branches of green which hid the mouth of the little stream where the fishermen had found their trout.
meanwhile the others had gone off in an opposite direction, to explore the further side of the pond and, if possible, to climb a giant rock upon whose top was the tall pine tree from which the eagle had flown. eagle rock they had dubbed this and found the climb to its top[220] a difficult one, though equipped as they were, and with the help of the boys, the four girls managed to scale the height to find themselves overlooking farm lands in the valley beyond, and further away the presidential range of the white mountains towering above the lower peaks.
“it was worth coming for,” declared daniella with glowing face, “though it was a hard climb.”
“we ought to have had alpenstocks,” said hartley.
“what’s the matter with cutting some now?” said ran. “we’ll really need them more going down than coming up. there are plenty of saplings about.” he drew his knife from his pocket and began to hack away at one of the slim, straight, young trees close by.
hartley followed suit, but the loose stones upon the sloping side of the spot where he was standing made a precarious footing, and in his exertions the stones gave way causing his knife to slip and give him an ugly gash across his left hand, nearly severing one of his finger-tips.
jo was the first to perceive the accident and she ran to hartley’s side. he was bleeding profusely. jo whipped off the tin cup hanging from her belt. “here,” she called out sharply. “somebody get some water, quick.”
[221]daniella grabbed the cup and rushed off. there was a small trickling stream near by to which she hurried. effie, meantime, had come up and turned sick and faint at the sight of the blood covering her brother’s hand. “oh, hartley,” she quavered, “is it very bad?”
“he has about cut off the end of one of his fingers, that’s all,” said jo. “don’t faint, effie,” she added commandingly, seeing effie turn as white as a sheet. “hartley has to be attended to; we can’t hold you up, too.” she had already clapped the end of the finger back in place and had wrapped her handkerchief around it to stop the bleeding. presently daniella came hurrying back with the water with which jo carefully washed the wound, then diving into her pocket she drew forth a small case. “can you stand a few stitches?” she asked hartley. “we haven’t any plaster, you see, and it may save you further trouble.”
“i’ll stand it,” said hartley grimly, though he winced and set his teeth when jo, after threading her needle, took several stitches in the severed flesh.
“there,” she said, “you stood it like a soldier. a clean handkerchief, if any one has it. mine is about used up. i hope you don’t mind my tearing it,” she said as effie produced hers.
“as if hartley’s comfort wasn’t worth a dozen[222] handkerchiefs,” replied effie who had recovered her composure.
jo made a neat bandage, sewed it firmly on and pronounced the operation over.
“that’s perfectly great,” declared hartley. “jo, you are a first-class surgeon. i don’t believe any one could beat that job. i am your eternal debtor.”
“if it isn’t all right, dr. paul can make it so,” jo told him. “fortunately we have a doctor at hand. i don’t suppose mine is skilled labor at all, but it will serve till something better can be done. it will hurt like the mischief for a while, i suppose, and perhaps we had best get back to the doctor.”
“no one need ever say again that jo isn’t expert with her needle,” said mary lee admiringly. “how did you ever happen to have a needle and thread with you? you of all persons who never sew until you are obliged and compelled to.”
“why, it was sheer luck. aunt kit made me the little housewife and stuck it in the pocket of this skirt; she gave me the skirt, you know, and insisted that it should have a pocket. well, the little case has stayed just where she put it, for i never bothered to take it out, and fortunately i remembered it at the right moment.”
[223]“if it hadn’t been for your quick wits as well as for your skill very probably i should have lost the top of my finger,” said hartley gratefully.
there was no more cutting of alpenstocks in this particular spot, but eventually each one of the girls was provided with one and one was cut for hartley. the gordon boys, being familiar with steep mountains in their own part of the country, declared they could do without them. before they reached the foot of the rock jo was invested with the title of “first aid to the injured” given with due ceremony. she was made to kneel down upon the grass; the other girls crossed their alpenstocks over her head while ran tapped her on the shoulder with a pretended sword. “rise, lady knightess,” he said, and jo arose amid acclamations and congratulations. the title proving too heavy a one it was shortened to “aid” before they reached the end of their walk, and this was a favorite nickname from henceforth.
they found dr. paul had just returned from taking the twins around the pond and the patient was brought to him. he examined the hurt carefully. “first-rate,” he gave his opinion. “i don’t believe i could have done better myself. miss jo, you ought to study medicine, or trained nursing, at least.”
[224]“oh, dear me,” returned jo, “what would little josie do while she was waiting for practice? she couldn’t live on stale pills, and if she devoured the sample bottles of tonic sent her she’d be all the hungrier for real food.”
“but you’d make such a famous trained nurse.”
“oh, but i never did like striped gowns, and i can’t bear the smell of ether.”
“you’d get used to it.”
“perhaps. very well, if i call upon you for a recommendation i shall expect you to forward it promptly.”
“i’ll certainly do it,” responded the doctor heartily. “such ability oughtn’t to be wasted. that is a very neat piece of work. if the wound was well washed i don’t think you will have any trouble with it, hartley, for it was evidently a clean cut. we’ll stop at our place on the way home and i’ll give you something to ease it a little.” the finger was bound up again and the bandage neatly sewed on, jo’s needle and thread again being called for, while every one agreed that such a little housewife as hers should be a necessary part of every camping outfit.
“that’ll be work for the next rainy day,” said miss helen.
“then we must all make a journey to the country store for materials,” said mary lee.
[225]“good! it’ll be a fine excuse for going,” said daniella. “we can all make a shopping trip to-morrow if nothing happens.”
meanwhile nan and her cavalier were ensconced in the quietest of nooks not far away. here the stream narrowed so one could touch the trunks of the trees arching overhead. wild little creatures rustled among the leaves on the ground, bounding away as the canoe softly crept up the small waterway. the birds, so wild as to have little fear, swung in the branches above or, with slanting wing, skimmed the surface of the water. one could see in the clear stream a wary fish suddenly darting away, and once a wild goose, paddling up-stream, arose with a cry and plunged into the deep forest. except for the sounds of the woodland creatures the place was so still one could hear the fall of a leaf on the ripples below.
“are you going to sketch?” asked nan as her companion laid his box on the grass.
“if you will sit for me.”
“i? with all this loveliness about us?”
“it is lovely, but it isn’t paintable, that is to say, not very, and i haven’t dared to ask you before to sit.”
“but why?”
“i don’t know. you seem to stay in a world of thought sometimes where i can’t find you,[226] only i know you are there by a look in your eyes.”
“oh.” nan did not know what to say to this. she was not used to talk of this kind.
“and will you give me a sitting? i won’t keep you very long. just sit there in the prow of the boat and i’ll get out my colors in a jiffy. there, like that, and will you take off your hat? thank you. that’s great. just what i’ve been longing for.”
nan sat very quietly in a sort of dream. once in a while her companion made a remark, but he was absorbed in his sketch and did not talk connectedly. it was enough for nan that he was there, that she was alone in this romantic spot with this creature of genius. oh, it was wonderful! the water rippled softly about the keel of the boat, the sky was blue overhead. yonder was walhalla. she was listening to the “waldweben.” her thoughts were indistinct, her emotions were not acute nor violent. she was in a dream. a gentle and serene content possessed her. she was satisfied to sit so always in this entrancing spot.
the absolute quiet was broken by mr. wells’ rising. “there,” he said, “i’m not going to martyrize you any longer. thank you a thousand times, miss nan. this doesn’t begin to do you justice, but i’ve caught certain characteristics,[227] i think.” he turned the sketch so nan could see it. if she was a little disappointed she did not say so, but only remarked, “i don’t see how you did so much in such a short time.”
“oh, one can do a mere sketch in a few minutes, sometimes. please don’t consider this a finished thing.”
nan could see it was not, and comforted herself by thinking it would have been much better if there had been more time.
“now what can i do to repay you for your goodness?” said the young man. “you are a wonderfully patient sitter. you scarcely stirred.”
“i am glad if i did sit still. it was all so lovely that i enjoyed just thinking about it. did you bring your violin to-day?”
“no, i didn’t. you see, i don’t play for every one.”
“but you wouldn’t mind playing for me.”
“oh, no. you belong to the chosen few, only we must not have an audience. what are you going to do to-morrow afternoon?”
“nothing that i have planned.”
“then i will meet you about half-way between camp happiness and place o’ pines. you come in your canoe; i’ll come in mine. we will go ashore and i will play for you.”[228] then with a sudden smile, “or, i’ll meet you more than half-way. i’ll come to the little point just opposite three rocks. you know it?”
“yes, indeed.”
“and will you come about four o’clock?”
“alone?”
“can’t you?”
“i will ask mother whether i ought.”
he smiled again. what a little girl it was. there was never a time when mabel romaine would have hesitated. “i’ll ask her myself,” he said with sudden decision. “shall we go now?”
“i think we should,” said nan sedately. and if she made no more than monosyllabic replies to his remarks on the way back it was not for lack of interest in them or of delight in his company.
