WAKDWKU/S. "WHEN I GIT TIME." 135 



skirt in sr the mud-holes, crossing the small streams, after 

 the usual fashion 0:1 a wild-woods road, until, at the end of 

 four hours we reached WardweH's. 



The little loir-house on the bluff looked out upon a bay. 

 where the river rests before undertaking its nur.ir.ed descent 

 to Beaver Lake, while Twitehell creek comes in at the 

 right, contributing the water of Twitehell Lake, famous 

 for trout and deer. This seems to be an admirable, point 

 at which to stop, making it a base from which to go daily 

 to many u'>otl tishing resorts, lint it is "the last house," 

 and lew are content to remain here, while the lakes and 

 streams beyond are so enticing. We had large and delicious 

 trout for our combined breakfast and dinner, but to our 

 queries a- to when- they came from, WardweH's indefinite 

 reply was. "Oh. we git 'em down in the basin," but lie 

 didn't. It is a point of honor with the keeper of that house, 

 whoever he happens to be, never to tell the passer by of 

 the half do/en or so excellent tishing places, not an hour's 

 walk distant: and he is a lucky fellow who learns of them, 

 even if he remains there for days together. 



Wardwell. himself, is a character, and a greater curiosity 

 than anything he can exhibit to the tourist, lie gets out 

 his old rifle to show with what he has slain countless deer 

 and knocked over now and then a "painter." But one of 

 the sights is loose and is tied on with a leather string. 



Why don't you ti\ that sight, Wardwell V" 



" Waal," in a long drawl, " I've been thinking on't, and 

 some day when 1 git time I guess I'll have to go at it." 



"Time? Don't you have time enough up here?" 



