IN CAMP. 37 



meant it wicked, and it conveys a great deal. But 

 above all, and over all, more than compensating for 

 his minor failings, Joe is strictly honest : he will 

 take all you give him, but nothing that you do not : 

 not even a State constable's bete noir, though he 

 loves it, and never refuses when asked. I would 

 not give so much space to Joe, were it not that he 

 is part and parcel of the lakes themselves : all the 

 fishermen look upon him as their godfather ; and I 

 verily believe the trout are so fond 'of him, that 

 they cook themselves to a lovelier brown as they 

 look up from the pan into his anxious furrowed 

 face. I can see him now as he appeared at the 

 door of the camp some two hours after our amiable 

 discussion in regard to tempus fugit, and recall his 

 first salutation, thoughtful and kind as a mother's 

 care: "Miss Stevens sleep good, no?" "Yes, 

 Joe, first-rate, splendidly." "No fly, merskeeter, 

 no? " " Not a sign of 'em. See here, Joe," and 

 we take him into our room, and show him the can- 

 opy suspended over the bed. He takes a survey 

 of it, and a look of wonder gathers over his face : 

 the expression we have quoted above wells up to 

 his lips, but he restrains it. " Well, Joe, what do 

 you think of that? " " It is nice." " Yes, so it 

 is, my dear fellow, a camp-luxury. But how about 

 breakfast ? " " You have feesh, Mr. Stevens ? " 



