220 OUTDOOR STUDIES 
remote and questioning look that belongs to 
imaginative men who dwell alone. It seemed 
an impertinence to ask him to come out of his 
dream and offer us dinner ; but his instincts of 
hospitality failed not, and the red-shirted guide 
was sent to the camp, which was, it seemed, on 
the other side of the lake, to prepare our meal, 
while we bathed. I am thus particular in speak- 
ing of the dinner, not only because such is the 
custom of travellers, but also because it was the 
occasion of an interlude which I shall never for- 
get. As we were undressing for our bath upon 
the lonely island, where the soft, pale water 
almost lapped our feet, and the deep, wooded 
hills made a great amphitheatre for the lake, our 
host bethought himself of something neglected 
in his instructions. 
“Ben!” vociferated he to the guide, now 
rapidly receding. Ben paused on his oars. 
“Remember to bo-o-oil the venison, Ben!” 
shouted the pensive artist, while all the slum- 
bering echoes arose to applaud this culinary 
confidence. 
“ And, Ben!” he added imploringly, “don’t 
forget the dumplings!’’ Upon this, the loons, 
all down the lake, who had hitherto been silent, 
took up the strain with vehemence, hurling 
their wild laughter at the presumptuous mortal 
who thus dared to invade their solitudes with 
