"I take it all back," said Bill Williams, "I said I didn't like fish. I meant the kind we get in the city. But—this trout is fit for the gods. It is certainly good."
"You're right," said Pud. "I didn't think that any fish could taste so good."
"My sentiments, too," said Bob, "and as for this partridge stew, there's only one thing the matter with it and that there isn't enough of it."
"That's something we don't have every day, but we have the fish always and we never get tired of it," said Mr. Anderson.
At last, filled to repletion, they leaned back and began a general conversation.
"I know one thing," said Pud, with a sigh.
"What's that?" asked Bill.
"I'll never take off any weight here. I've just eaten enough to feed a family."
"Don't worry," said Mr. Waterman. "You'll need all the food you get when you're carrying a canoe across some of the portages we'll be on this summer."
"We'll take it easy for an hour, and then let us all get busy and get out balsam boughs for our beds. Mr. Waterman and I have a pretty good lot already, but a little more will help. We've left you the privilege of making your own beds as all good campers insist on doing."