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 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 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.