A PLACID RUNAWAY 11 



Noon came, and we camped under the 

 sunny lee of a ridge that was all abloom with 

 hepaticas clumps of lavender and white 

 and rosy -lilac. We found a good spring, and 

 a fallen log, and some dead hemlock tips to 

 start a fire, and soon we had a merry blaze. 

 Then Jonathan dressed some of the trout, 

 while I found a black birch tree and cut 

 forked sticks for broilers. Any one who has 

 not broiled fresh-caught trout outdoors on 

 birch forks or spice bush will do almost as 

 well has yet to learn what life holds for 

 him. Chops are good, too, done in that way. 

 We usually carry them along when there is 

 no prospect of fish, or, when we are sure of 

 our country, we take a tin cup and buy eggs 

 at a farmhouse to boil. But the balancing of 

 the can requires a happy combination of 

 stones about the fire that the brief nooning 

 of a day s tramp seldom affords, and baking 

 is still more uncertain. Bacon is good, but 

 broiling the little slices and how they do 

 shrink! takes too long, while frying entails 

 a pan. Curiously enough, a pan, in addition 

 to two fish baskets and a landing-net, does 

 not find favor in Jonathan s eyes. 



