Walter read some paragraphs from different papers, and it sure did appear like a promising young boom.
“Why, look here, Walter,” I gasped. “What’s the likes of you doing in the wilderness? Oughtn’t you to be down there fussing? Why don’t you beat it for the settlements to-morrow—oughtn’t we to go home?”
But Walter frowned evilly. “Go home? Not much. I’m going to take that fish at the Golden Pool to-morrow,” he snapped at me. “Besides, if they need me they’ll let me know. Whatever happens, I mean to get my fish to-morrow.”
Then I addressed him. “That’s too ridiklis,” said I. “An afternoon’s fishing—and us candidates for governor! Why, you make me laugh. I’m in charge of you, my good man—”
“Oh, are you?” he inquired sarcastically.
“I am that. See?” So I punched him about a bit till he yelled for mercy. I can handle him since he got his embonpoint. I’m in training, and he isn’t.
“Don’t—don’t,” he howled; and then, as I slowed down, “I do dislike physical demonstration,” said Walter. And I gave him a dig that rounded his sentence up with a squeal.
“That’s all,” I stated. “Just wanted to put you in your place. Am I in charge?”
“Yes, yes—leave me alone, Bob,” he threw at me hurriedly, and just at that second I happened to look out at the lake.
I stood petrified. There was a canoe on it. Now our own guides and canoes were all in camp, and we’re away beyond everybody’s passing. Nobody comes to Lac Lumière unless they come to see us. Who under heaven could be coming to see us? It was five-thirty in the afternoon, and nobody from another camp would arrive at that hour, for it would be too late to get back anywhere. One doesn’t walk portages after dark in Canada. So I was petrified. It was a canoe all right, however, and the paddles were flashing fast; it would be at our dock in five minutes.