“I think there’s something besides a lunatic that you are afraid of,” said Martin to Matlack the next morning, as they were preparing breakfast.

“What’s that?” inquired the guide, sharply.

“It’s that fellow they call the bishop,” said Martin. “He put a pretty heavy slur on you. You drove down a stake, and you locked your boat to it, and you walked away as big as if you were the sheriff of the county, and here he comes along, and snaps his fingers at you and your locks, and, as cool as a cucumber, he pulls up the stake and shoves out on the lake, all alone by herself, a young lady that you are paid to take care of and protect from danger.”

“I want you to know, Martin Sanders,” said Matlack, “that I don’t pitch into a man when he’s in his bed, no matter what it is that made him take to his bed or stay there. But I’ll just say to you now, that when he gets up and shows himself, there’ll be the biggest case of bounce in these parts that you ever saw.”

“Bounce!” said Martin to himself, as he turned away. “I have heard so much of it lately that I’d like to see a little.”

Matlack also communed with himself. “He’s awful anxious to get up a quarrel between me and the parson,” he thought. “I wonder if he was too free with his tongue and did get thrashed. He don’t show no signs of it, except he’s so concerned in his mind to see somebody do for the parson what he ain’t able to do himself. But I’ll find out about it! I’ll thrash that fellow in black, and before I let him up I’ll make him tell me what he did to Martin. I’d do a good deal to get hold of something that would take the conceit out of that fellow.”

Mr. Arthur Raybold was a deep-minded person, and sometimes it was difficult for him, with the fathoming apparatus he had on hand, to discover the very bottom of his mind. Now, far below the surface, his thoughts revolved. He had come to the conclusion that he would marry Margery. In the first place, he was greatly attracted by her, and again he considered it would be a most advantageous union. She was charming to look upon, and her mind was so uncramped by conventionalities that it could adapt itself to almost any sphere to which she might direct it. He expected his life-work to be upon the stage, and what an actress Miss Dearborn would make if properly educated—as he could educate her! With this most important purpose in view, why should he waste his time? The Archibalds could not much longer remain in camp. They had limited their holiday to a month, and that was more than half gone. He must strike now.

The first thing to do was to get Clyde out of the way; then he would speak to Mr. Archibald and ask for authority to press his suit, and he would press that suit as few men on earth, he said to himself, would be able to press it. What girl could deny herself to him when he came to her clad not only with his own personal attributes, but with the fervor of a Romeo, the intellectuality of a Hamlet, and the force of an Othello?

The Clyde part of the affair seemed very simple; as his party would of course have their own table Clyde would see his sister at every meal, and as Corona did not care to talk to him, and must talk to somebody, she would be compelled to talk to Clyde, and if she talked to Clyde and looked at him as she always did when she talked to people, he did not see how he could help being attracted by her, and when once that sort of thing began the Margery-field would be open to him.

He excused himself that morning for hurriedly leaving the breakfast-table by saying that he wished to see Mr. Archibald before he started out fishing.