HOW SPIDER WENT TO SUPPER. 



W. T. ADDERLEY. 



The door closed with a bang. Dick, Ed 

 and I looked up from our little game to see 

 the light of our crowd, Spider, the German 

 joker, who stood mopping his face, which, 

 after his 10 mile spin in the September 

 heat, shone like the mid-day sun. Dick 

 winked and said, 



heal our outing fever. Subsequently there 

 was a general overhauling of wheels, guns 

 and fishing tackle. Saturday evening found 

 everything packed, excepting our wheels, 

 and in readiness to be expressed to Rath- 

 drum, a small town 6 miles from the lake. 

 From that point we were to have a wagon. 



" LET'S GO TO FERN LAKE FOR TWO WEEKS.' 



"Another air ship?" and was answered 

 with a flying sofa cushion. 



"Here," said Spider; "you fellows have 

 been looking for a change of board 10 

 days. Now, you can all get a leave of ab- 

 sence, so let's go to Fern lake for 2 weeks." 



The next half hour the room was filled 

 with questions, exclamations, shoes, pil- 

 lows, and everything else movable to help 

 convince a majority that Fern lake, a beau- 

 tiful spot hidden in the Idaho mountains 

 30 miles away, where there were grouse 

 and trout to gladden the heart of the most 

 enthusiastic camper, was the only balm to 



Dawn Monday found us speeding from 

 the city's heat and noise to the cool, fra- 

 grant pines East of the Spokane valley. 

 That valley Lane called the most beautiful 

 in the West. Through it we rode within 

 a stone's throw of the clear, swift Spokane, 

 of which ever and anon we caught a 

 glimpse in its mad race to the falls a few 

 miles below. At 5 o'clock we reached 

 Babes' ranch, 20 miles East of Spokane. 

 There Miss Jessie, the daughter of the 

 house, set before us a breakfast of flaky 

 biscuits, cream, etc., which made us feel 

 at peace with the whole world. 



335 



