104 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 



to do that. They commenced about two o'clock in 

 the afternoon. The forenoon had been fine, and we 

 had brought into camp nearly three hundred trout; 

 but before they were half dressed, or the first panfuls 

 fried, the rain set in. First came short, sharp dashes, 

 then a gleam of treacherous sunshine, followed by 

 more and heavier dashes. The wind was in the 

 Bouthwest, and to rain seeoed the easiest thing in 

 the world. From fitful dashes to a steady pour the 

 transition was natural. We stood huddled together, 

 stark and grim, under our cover, like hens under a 

 cart. The fire fought bravely for a time, and retal- 

 iated with sparks and spiteful tongues of flame; but 

 gradually its spirit was broken, only a heavy body 

 of coal and half- consumed logs in the centre holding 

 out against all odds. The simmering fish were soon 

 floating about in a yellow liquid that did not look in 

 the least appetizing. Point after point gave way in 

 our cover, till standing between the drops was no 

 longer possible. The water coursed down the un- 

 derside of the boards, and dripped in our necks and 

 formed puddles on our hat- brims. We shifted our 

 guns and traps and viands, till there was no longer 

 any choice of position, when the loaves and the 

 fishes, the salt and the sugar, the pork and the but- 

 ter, shared the same watery fate. The fire was 

 gasping its last. Little rivulets coursed about it, 

 and bore away the quenched but steaming coals on 

 their bosoms. The spring run in the rear of our 

 camp swelled so rapidly that part of the trout that 

 Vad been hastily left lying on its banks again found 



