“Fisk an’ Tarlo ginkin auty, Laula,” said Allie once more.
“Carlo naughty! drive him away. But he won’t bite Allie.”
“No, ’e bite auty, ’pring auty.”
“Never mind,—he won’t hurt you. Carlo is a good doggie.”
“Go ’way, there! What are you doing, you scamps! I declare! Frisk and Carlo have been drinking half that spring water!”
“Allie tole Laula.”
But Laula was bemoaning the loss; for the spring was almost a mile away, and this wood was provided with no modern conveniences.
The cask of ice-water was too precious to be used for cooking purposes, and away trudged the youths for another bucket-full.
This weakened the effective force of the dinner getters materially; for, under the pretense of picking the traditional blackberries, nearly all the party, in couples or in groups, had strayed off to parts unseen. The remaining ones were lighting a lively fire, and going through various manœuvres before it, and a certain odor therefrom said plainly, “You don’t often get better coffee than I come from.”
Allie, meantime, was roaming about unnoticed. He gained an immense amount of information in this leisure hour.