I think that Aunt and Boris prefer the comforts of home. The Prince certainly has her ear, and when I surprise them in one of their long and confidential interviews, they act like a couple of arch-conspirators. But he is very nice just now and it is my last chance for a fling, isn’t it?
We had a carry to Lake Kootchie, the second day, then a long portage and four miles of paddling to the end of Big Smoke this morning, and ended the day at Lake Bear. Checkers and Boris played cards on making camp, and after gambling for a while, it looked as if the Prince saw things were not going his way, so he stopped to arrange his fishing tackle. Checkers screwed up his eyebrows at me and winked.
For supper—pea-soup, fish, and prunes.
Second Day’s remarks:
Sybil: “The loons are so jolly. I want to take one home.”
Checkers: “Every minute I like it better.”
Aunt: “The beds are so hard—sno-r-r-r-r-oh!”
Prince (gazing soulfully at me): “To rescue beautiful ladies—ah, it is heaven.”