146 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



upward at the thin, curling smoke issuing from the 

 funnel, strode to the tent where we were eating, 

 with a bread-pan in one hand, and the toaster in 

 the other, and thus unbosomed himself : 



" Mr. Stevens, I give it up : that just beats any 

 thing I ever saw ; I could cook for ten men with 

 that stove ; she's a ripper." 



And Joe told the truth. 



The afternoon was spent in preparing camp, and 

 by the time that darkness came we were ready for 

 it; our bed in order, with the mosquito-canopy 

 spread. " Good-night, Tomah : we have done a 

 good afternoon's work, and you may sleep in the 

 morning." 



