At supper that evening Don made a formal protest and complaint, insisting that he would drink no more tea till he had white sugar; he entered at some length into the characteristics and peculiarities of sugar in its various stages, questioned the advantage of using brown sugar at all, intimated that white was the best, most economical, and least bulky, advised me in future to take none other, and finally having disposed of every conceivable case but his own, inquired why, when we had abundance of both, he was not allowed the one he preferred, by which time I had it out and ready at his hand. He had evidently braced himself for a terrible argument, seemed somewhat surprised at the want of opposition, and after a moment or two began to call in question the propriety of opening a new package, when the brown sugar was already in use; that, in fact, although some people preferred white, and he must confess he was among the number, others liked the flavor of the dark colored; that little inconveniences were the natural concomitants of a sportsman’s life; that when a number of bundles were opened they were more exposed to dampness—a serious injury to sugar—and there were more packages to look after, and that he was decidedly of opinion it was unadvisable, and that he was entirely willing to go without his tea. By this time the tea was drunk and supper ended.
It is a delightful thing of a cool summer evening to sit round a rousing fire that casts its variable glare upon the trunks and lower branches of the stalwart trees, and gives a ruddy glow to the white tent, the dense underbrush, and the kindly faces of the honest guides. At such times, while listening to wild stories of woodsman’s life, that are doubly interesting when repeated upon the ground where they occurred, a pipe is absolutely delicious. Every member of the temporary household selects a rock or log, fashions a seat to his satisfaction as best he may, and recalls the events of other similar expeditions for the edification of his associates. On such occasions cigars, which are cumbersome at all times, do not seem to answer, and recourse is had to the little pouch of Killikinnick which every one carries with him; under the joint influence of story and tobacco, the time passes quickly away, and the hour of bedtime arrives too soon.
Notwithstanding the summer evenings are usually cool above the line of the British Provinces, we happened to have fallen upon a hot spell; and although the fire was not disagreeable, the mosquitoes, which are benumbed by cold, were lively and plentiful. Under these circumstances our mode of proceeding was to close the tent and then with a candle carefully burn them one after another. To do this successfully requires nerve and skill; the light must be approached quickly enough to catch the nimble fellows, and just far enough not to scorch the tent; the operation gave Don decided pleasure, especially as they are consumed with a loud “pop.” In course of the proceeding he incidentally remarked: “Their galleys burn; why not their cities, too?”
Next day we ascended the river to the falls, which were about three miles from camp, and were found to be attractive neither to the fisherman nor the lover of nature. The water was warm and fishless, the shute was small and unromantic. We dined at its foot, and descending, fished the pool that the day before had rewarded us so satisfactorily. Our prey was still there, eager as ever for hook and feathers, and soon covered the bottom of our boat with their glistening forms. My line after some time happening to become fouled in the bottom, and skilful fishing appearing to be out of place, I laid down the fly-rod, and taking the bass-rod, cast the trolling-spoon with some effort and a loud splash into the pool; instead of alarming the fish, it was eagerly seized, and I kept on catching fish with it at every cast, till Don became disgusted with such unsportsmanlike procedure, and insisted upon returning to camp.
That day was made remarkable by the advent of a thunder-storm, a rarity in the northern clime, and the only one that occurred during our entire trip. It was not violent, and had none of those terrible characteristics of similar phenomena in southern latitudes, and even in our regions would have been considered a tame affair.
As, however, it drove us within the tent, and gave us a little unemployed leisure, my attention was attracted to Don’s baggage, which consisted of an incongruous assortment that would hardly have been thought of by any other amateur backwoodsman, and would certainly have astounded a professional. Of course there were abundant clothes of various colors and kinds, of which a buckskin under-jacket suitable for severe winter weather, but hardly necessary in a summer-trip, and a handsome dressing-gown, were prominent articles; also his shaving materials, very neat and elegant, that were not used till he returned; a thermometer that kept us informed as to the amount of suffering we were entitled to feel from the condition of the weather; a picture of his two extremely pretty children, set in a passe-partout frame, with a glass over it that was in daily danger of destruction, a bundle of tooth-picks that would have lasted us both a year, a new and effective patent portable boot-jack, a clothes-brush and whisp, a bottle of eau de cologne, a pair of flesh-brushes, and many other things that might be classed as “odds and ends.”
Most of these articles were jumbled together in a large water-proof bag, from which he was never known to be able to obtain any specific article without emptying the whole on the floor; but the picture, his looking-glass, comb, hair-brush, and soap he kept among the eggs. The eggs suffered considerably from the association, and their injury was felt by myself as head cook; but Don could never be persuaded to change his habits, producing abundant arguments to prove that that was their only appropriate place.
At supper he announced his firm conviction that china cups and plates were a necessity to existence, that tin was an abomination, and that on all future trips he should be properly supplied. He was indignant at a suggestion that they might be broken, and burst forth:
“You are so set in your ways that you think no one can have any ideas but yourself, or make any improvement on your plans. Here you are, drinking high-priced tea, and even brandy-and-water, out of tin cups that hold a quart,”—this was an exaggeration, as they were only pints—“have a disgusting taste that absolutely destroys the flavor, and are of such a shape that you have to dip your nose into the fluid before you can swallow any of it. With hot tea this is painful, and with brandy, or even water, far from pleasant.”
“Glass or china would be more agreeable on some accounts——” was the mild reply.