wakdwell's. — "when i git time." 135 



skirtiug the mud-holes, crossiui;- the small streams, after 

 the usual fashiou on a wild-woods road, until, at the end of 

 four hours we reached Wardwell's. 



The little log-house on the bluff looked out upon a bay, 

 where the river rests before- undertaking its rugged descent 

 to Beaver Lake, while Twitchell creek comes in at the 

 right, contributing the water of Twitchell Lake, famous 

 for I rout and deer. This seems to be an admirnble point 

 at wliich to st()[), making it a base from which to go daily 

 to many good tishing resorts. But it is "the last house," 

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

 streams I)eyond are so enticing. We had large and ilelicious 

 trout for our combined breakfast and dinner, but to our 

 queries as to where they camo from, AY:ird well's indefinite 

 reply was, "Oh, we git 'em (h)wn in the basin," — but he 

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

 whoever he happens to "be, never to tell the passer-b}" of 

 the half (h^zen or so excellent fishing places, not an* liour's 

 walk distant; and he is a lucky fellow wlio learns of them, 

 even if he remains there for daj^s together. 



Wardwell, himself, is a character, and a greater curiosit}^ 

 than anything he can exhibit to the toiu'ist. He 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 

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



" Why don't you fix that sight, Wardwell?" 



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

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



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



