“No,” replied Mr. Baldwin, “it is still yours. You are off your trolley there. I beg your pardon for my intrusion, and to-morrow I will leave you. I would go to-night, but there is no train, and I must perforce trespass upon your hospitality a little further.”
“You are welcome,” I said, feebly. “It is the greatest joy of my life to have you here.”
“I do not doubt it,” he rejoined. “No one who heard your simple, sincere words could think otherwise. Such fine feelings are rare in the prosaic age we live in, do you not think so?”
I could only acquiesce. In fact, every time he said anything, I found that I had precisely the same point of view, and he must have thought me a very agreeable companion.
My night’s rest was illuminated with vivid dreams in which the war-whoop and the tomahawk played a star part, but whenever I started from my cot with my hair bristling, I was reassured by the peaceful breathing of my companion, who slept soundly on the other cot on the opposite side of the room.
In the morning he explained his Summer adventuring as a reversion to type. He was a lawyer in Oklahoma, but nevertheless he had been consumed with the longing to live as his ancestors did and to dress as they dressed. He had felt the call of the wild while he was toiling over briefs and contracts, and so far he had carried out his plan, omitting only the murderous features of his forefathers’ working days.
As his train did not leave until afternoon, he spent the time from breakfast to luncheon in my society, and afterward I was glad that he did so, for I learned many curious facts which I might otherwise have missed.
The trees around my cabin were so full of Squirrels that you could hardly see the leaves, let alone the branches, which were obscured by the bark of the Squirrels until their native covering was wholly hidden. The chatter was incessant and was like nothing so much as the composite sound one hears at the entrance to the Dog Show. Perceiving that I was interested, Mr. Baldwin very kindly gave up a little of his time to the Squirrel proposition.
“What is the Indian name for Squirrel?” I asked.
“Kitchi-Kitchi,” he replied.