Uncle Teddy explained, and introduced Mr. Evans and the boys. “These are the Sandwiches,” he said, including them all in a comprehensive wave of his hand, whereat Colonel Berry roared with laughter. “Boys, meet Colonel C. C. Berry, the best woodsman in fourteen states, and the best goodfellow in the world.”
The boys acknowledged the introduction with great politeness and respect, but Colonel Berry insisted on shaking hands all around, “just as if we were senators,” the Captain explained afterward.
Mr. Evans immediately invited Colonel Berry to visit them at Ellen’s Isle, and the Sandwiches all echoed the plea eagerly, just as if he had been an old and beloved friend instead of a new acquaintance.
The colonel replied that his business would take him out of St. Pierre the following evening, but he would be delighted to run over and spend that night with them on Ellen’s Isle.
It was not without considerable pride that Mr. Evans pointed out “his island” to Colonel Berry 118 later in the afternoon as the launch approached it on their return home. The way affairs were run on that little island was something to be proud of, as he well knew, and which even a distinguished camper and woodsman must admire. The boys were busy describing the wonders of Ellen’s Isle and kept saying, “Wait until you see our girls. Wait until you see Sahwah dive off the bow of the war canoe and Gladys hold a parasol over her head when she swims. Wait until you eat some of Hinpoha’s slumgullion!”
“I’m surprised they’re not all down on the landing waiting for us,” said Mr. Evans, as they ran the launch in. “They generally are. But they’ll be down immediately.” Making a trumpet of his hands he called, “Oh, Mother! Gladys! Aunt Clara!” There was no answer. “They must be in the tents,” he said. “Come on up.” He helped the colonel up the steep path and shouted again. Still no answer. He went over to Mrs. Evans’ tent. The sides were rolled up and it was empty. So was the other one. “They must be away at the other end of the island,” said Mr. Evans. He struck into the path which led up the men’s encampment, and which ran through the “kitchen.” The fire, which was generally burning there around supper time, was carefully laid, but not lighted. “Where can they be?” said Mr. Evans to Uncle Teddy in a puzzled tone. Just then his eye fell on a piece of paper tucked under the 119 handle of the water bucket. Wonderingly he opened it and read:
“Dear men folks:
“Seeing that you have found amusement for the day we have gone on a picnic to the Point of Pines. We will stay all night if the sleeping is good. Everything is ready for supper; just help yourselves.”
“Of all things!” exclaimed Mr. Evans in vexation. “Just the day we have a guest I am particularly anxious to have them meet they take it into their heads to go off and spend the night. Where on earth is the Point of Pines?”
Nobody seemed to know just where it was, but they all remembered hearing the girls talking about it and hearing them say that some time when it was dry they were going over there by themselves with Aunt Clara and Mrs. Evans and have a “hen party.” The general idea was that the Point of Pines was a long point running out into the water on the mainland to the north of them, where the pines grew very tall and close together.