"You're right! There won't be any deficiency," and she added sweetly, "though I don't like to see you go."
"Thank you, Mrs. Bunker. Here's Burt for me, now." Burt was a blonde, stalwart young fellow, about Glen's own age. He rowed swiftly toward the boat-house, smoking the inevitable pipe. When he landed, he strapped one of those deep baskets the guides carry for provisions, on his back, and climbed up to the camp. Mrs. Stillwater hurried down to the kitchen, to assure herself that Glen was well provided for on his trip.
They all descended to the lake to see him go. When Indiana saw the accoutrements for departure; the fishing tackle, guns, and tent rigging, she commenced to envy the two young fellows going off together, and felt rather ill used to be left behind, to do the tame work of entertaining. Glen read her face, and was inwardly delighted.
"We're going to have a rare, good time, Indiana."
"I believe you," said Indiana, ruefully.
"Do you think there'll be enough provisions, Glen?" inquired Mrs. Stillwater, anxiously.
Glen laughed. The laugh was echoed by Haller and William, who were assisting in the ceremony of seeing the young men off.
"We'll have plenty of game, and Burt's as fine as any French cook."
Burt took his pipe from his mouth with a flattered smile and a blush. He was as shy as some young girls.
"We'll feed on the delicacies of the season. And there's the canned stuff, which we'll reserve for emergencies." He grasped Mrs. Stillwater's hand.