206 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[April 3, 1891, 



THE MYSTERY OF A PIECE OF PIE. 



MY ADVENTUBE AT PON QUOQUE. 

 PART I. 



IT was very near midnight when I left the cosy reading 

 room of the famous inn at Canoe Place, at Pon 

 Quogue, Long Island, on my way through the woods to 

 the Foster House, where I was stopping. It is a walk of 

 only some three or four miles, by making a short cut 

 through the pines and alder bushes, although much 

 longer when following the sinuous shore of Shiuneoock 

 Bay; and althoiigh the night was intensely dark and 

 rain threatened, i felt sure that I should not lose my way 

 before reaching the ridge opposite the "Hills," when the 

 Shinnecock light would be in plain sight and furnish a 

 guiding beacon for the homeward journey. 



But, as the French have it, L'homme propose, et Dku 

 disjMse. So it was in my case, and 1 had made my 

 reckoning without mine host. I have always flattered 

 myself with the belief that I possessed considerable 

 woodcraft, and ridiculed the idea of "getting lost" in a 

 civilized country, for I have wandered through the lonely 

 forests of Sweden and Norway, in the ''Land of the Mid- 

 night Sup," all by myself, for days together, and by a 

 sort of intuition, or instinct, always found my way 

 through the tangles of birch and larch to some lumber 

 camp or fishing cove. I have ti-aveled through the dense 

 solitudes of the Harz Gebirge and Thiiringerwald, in 

 Germany, without a guide, yet always brought up at 

 some little hamlet, where I would strike a road leading 

 to a railway .station. The idea of losing my way on 

 Long Island, therefore, and within a few miles Jrom 

 home, seemed preposterous, and I gave it never a 

 thought. 



I had hardly left the ruddy windows of Canoe Place Inn 

 behind me, however, and fairly entered the jungle of 

 alders and huckleberry bushes before I realized that the 

 night was uncommonly dark, sure enough. Not a star, 

 nor the glint of a star was to be seen; it was pitchy black 

 all around. When my foot caught in the briers and I 

 stumbled I would see for a moment a small white spot 

 on the ground where I had scraped the thin soil so as to ex- 

 pose the white mica-glistening sand underneath ; that was 

 the only speck of color that could be discerned in that inky 

 blackness. For a moment I felt as if I would like to 

 return, but then they would make fun of me at the inn 

 for coming back, and I resolved to push on. 



Of all kinds of jungles in which I have had any experi- 

 ence, alder bushes, which are just high enough to reach a 

 couple of feet above your head, are the worst. Even in 

 the daytime they hem you in and obscure your vision. In 

 an ordinary forest you can at least see between the trunks 

 of the trees, and you can take your bearings from the 

 moss-covered roots, the slant of the trunks and many 

 other signs which are familiar to the experienced eye of 

 the woodsman. But when you are in a thicket of dense 

 bushes, too high for "underbrush" and too low and in- 

 significant for "trees," it sometimes (in the absence of 

 any sign of a path and with the sun obscured from sight) 

 becomes a hard matter to navigate. That was precisely 

 my position on that dark September night. It was warm 

 and sultry, not a wind was stirring — but how black it 

 was! I do not remember in all my travels ever to have 

 seen anything like it above ground and under the canopy 

 of heaven. 



As I stumbled on through the brash with my rifle on 

 the shoulder (I had of course draven the cartridge), getting 

 caught up and snared by the brambles at every second 

 and third step, I peered ahead for a gleam of the big 

 lantern at Shinnecock; but not a speck of light could be 

 seen anywhere, except that of the match with which I lit 

 a cigar to keep me company. Of course there was no 

 danger, for if the worst came to the worst I could easily 

 "camp out," as the night was warm and pleasant, but it 

 was the mortification of losing my way at such a place 

 and under such circumstances: and there were the jeers 

 and jibes with which I would be greeted when I "showed 

 • up" next morning. It was the ridicule I was afraid of, 

 for my friends at the Foster House had abundant wit and 

 scepticism, and we knew how to "toast" one another to 

 perfection. No "lish stories" would go down with that 

 crowd. 



Well, I stumbled on through the thicket, which seemed 

 to become denser (it could not get darker) at every step, 

 or every fall, for I had more falls than steps; until, 'by the 

 light of a match, my watch showed me that it was half- 

 past one in the morning — more than an hour and a half 

 since I had left the cozy parlor at Canoe Place, I should 

 have been home and in bed by this time: but still there 

 was no sign of the lighthouse, although it is said that the 

 light can be seen 40 miles at sea. Where the dickens was 

 I, anyhow, and where was that blanked lighthouse? It 

 was too absurdly ridiculous that I could not find my ^vay 

 home— but it was a startling and full-grown fact, never- 

 theless. And facts (and alder bushes) are stubborn things. 



Another half hour of weary stumbling, and at last I 

 caught a glimpse of the light I had been peering for so 

 anxiously and assiduously. It is true it was not in the 

 direction in which I had been looking most of the time 

 and where I expected to find it; quite the reverse, it 

 seemed to have gone out of its way and be behind me. 

 But there it was at all events, of that there could be no 

 doubt, and by steering straight for it I should soon be 

 home. 



At least that was what I thought. But, as I remarked 

 before, L'homme propose et .Dieu- dispose; it was easier 

 thought than done, ' However, black as it still was, 

 the bushes seemed to thin out, there were not bo many 

 brambles, and walking became decidedly easier. I steered 

 straight for the light, which seemed to be only a short 

 distance off, and was walking fast and blithely, when — 

 what was that? It tore my pataloons and cut my left 

 wrist. Ah! a barbed wire fence— 1 could feel it, though 

 I could not see it. I tried to crawl through it between 

 the wires, but it caught in everything, my hair, panta- 

 loons, stockings, and pulled the watch by its chain out of 

 my pocket, I tried to withdraw, but got only tangled up 

 the more, cutting both hands and ankles into the bargain. 



At last I extricated myself on the right side of the 

 fence, minus my cap, one coat sleeve and the better part 

 of the seat of my trousers. It began to feel chilly, for it 

 was getting toward morning, and I hastened on— only to 

 run into another fence of the same -kind, only more 



wicked. After paying toll with my other sleeVe and 

 what remained of the back part of my nether garments, 

 I concliTded I had had enough of this and had better take 

 no more chances, and as just then I discovered a faint 

 light about 300yds. to the right, I decided to follow the 

 line of fence rather than attempt to crawl through it. 

 So, breaking off a small sapling, and holding it in my 

 wounded left hand, I let it slide along the topmost coil 

 and was thus guided nearer and nearer toward the light, 

 which proved to be a la mp or candle shining through a 

 small muslin-curtained window in a cottage, which, to 

 the best of my knowledge, 1 had never seen before, 



PART II. 



As I lifted the gate-latch I was greeted by a low, vicious 

 growling and had half a mind to draw back when I felt 

 the cold and clammy nose of a large dog snifling my hand 

 with which I held the latch. The dog bad evidently 

 changed his mind, however, for instead of barking or 

 manifesting other unfriendly demonstration he com- 

 menced to wag his big bushy tail, snif&ng the while at 

 my gun, cartridge-bag and' boots, and behave quite 

 friendly. As I entered the gate another smaller dog came 

 up and' I was again subjected to this snififing operation, 

 after which the two dogs seemed to have a sort of consul- 

 tation, which must have resulted favorably to me, for 

 they forthwith led the way along the narrow sandy path 

 across the garden to the front door, where they stopped, 

 one on each side of me and both wagging their tails 

 furiously. 



I knocked at the door and waited developments. No 

 answer. I knocked again, the dogs meanwhile mani- 

 festing some impatience by a low whining, but no res- 

 ponse came. A third time I knocked hard with my iist, 

 the big dog at the same time scratching the lower door 

 panel witli his paw. but still no response. '"Surely, they 

 are sound sleepers!" I thought. "That comes of tlie salt 

 air and a good digestion, but I guess I will make them 

 hear!" With that I rapped the door with the butt of my 

 gun and both dogs set up a dismal howling, which, it 

 seemed to me, would suffice to arouse the seven sleepers. 

 Again T waited i^atiently for the expected sound of muf- 

 fled footsteps coming down the stairs and along the hall 

 to open the door, but not a sound, except the pawing and 

 whining of the dogs, 



By this time I thought I had waited as long and 

 patiently as ceremony and a proper regai'd for the "pro- 

 prieties" required. I tried the lock and found the door 

 unfastened. Opening it slowly, I saw a dark room before 

 me, with abeam of light projecting slantingly into it from 

 a keyhole in a door immediately opposite. Crossing the 

 dark room, still followed by the dogs, I knocked at this 

 other inner door, but receiving no reply, I opened it and 

 entered. It was quite a large room, evidently answering 

 both the pui-poses of kitchen and dining room, for at one 

 end was a stove with a smouldering wood fire, A large 

 table stood in the middle of the room, covered by a 

 scrupulously clean white linen table cloth, and set with 

 half a dozen plates, all white and clean, flanked by spoons, 

 knives, forks and other appropriate belongings of a table 

 set for supper. In the middle of the table were some 

 large dishes covered with red and white checked and 

 fringed napkins, so that i could not see what they con- 

 tained. At one end was a cream jug, also covered with 

 a folded l-ed and white checked napkin, and, next to that, 

 a waiter with a complete tea service of thick white stone 

 chinai but all scrupulously neat and clean, as, indeed, 

 was everything about the . room. But- not a human soul 

 was in it-, except myself. 



All this I comprehended at a single glance, and I also 

 observed, immediately on entering, that there was a stair- 

 case on the left side of the room leading up stairs, and 

 with a cupboard under it. I stepped to the foot of the 

 stairway (it was only a single flight) and sang out: 

 "Hello! Anybody here?" There was a faint echo in the 

 casing of the stairs, which sounded hollow and ghost- 

 like, but beyond that nothing. I heard a sputtering, 

 gurgling sound behind me, and turned around quickly — 

 it was only the lamp, which stood on a sideboard over 

 by the window, and was about to go out for want of oil. 

 As I walked across the room to see what was the matter 

 I perceived a gallon oil can with a long spout on the floor 

 next to the woodpile, so I quickly replenished the dying 

 flame, lit a cigar over the lamp chimney, put a fresh 

 stick of wood on the smouldering embers in the stove, 

 and sat down in a big rocking chair with both the dogs 

 lying at my feet, apparently asleep. 



Presently, as the stick of wood took fire, a kettle on 

 the stove commenced to sing, and a faint odor of Oolong 

 seemed to pervade the room. From boyhood I have 

 been fond of a good cup of tea of an evening, and 

 especially Oolong. I sniffed the odor, there could be no 

 doubt about it, it was the genuine article. I was both 

 thirsty and hungry, a cup of hot tea Avould taste so good. 

 So would something to eat, I wondered what was on 

 those platters iinderneatli the napkins. Eatables, doubt- 

 less. Thinking of that, and of the tea, made me more 

 hungry still. I rose and walked on tiptoe to the table, as 

 if afraid of awakening someVjody (for, somehow, I had 

 the feeling of a human presence in the room), and care- 

 fully lifted the corner of one of the napkins. Sliced 

 ham. I examined another dish. Sliced tongue, gar- 

 nished with parsley. Next to that, and similarly covered 

 by a red and white checked napkin, was a pile of biscuits, 

 and next to that the butter dish. It all looked very nice 

 and tempting, especially to a hungry man. 



1 finished my cigar, looking askant at those dishes and 

 waiting for somebody to arrive; but nobody came. Then 

 I made up my mind what to do. I flung my cigar stump 

 into the stove and deliberately proceeded to make myself 

 at home, commencing by pulling oft' my coat. Next, 1 

 poured myself a cup of steaming tea, took a biscuit 

 from the pile on the table, buttered it, and went on as if 

 this whole arrangement had been made specially for my 

 personal benefit. 



It was a delicious, though rather quiet, meal. I tried 

 the various dishes — ham, tongue, cold roast beef, and 

 something that tasted like potato salad— but there was 

 such an abundance of everything that my attacks did not 

 leave any visible mark. Even the stack of nice brown 

 biscuits seemed as higli as at first. Indeed, I might have 

 left the table then and no one would have been any the 

 wiser from the af)pearauce of these dishes. 



But — are we not all the sons (and daugliters) of mother 

 Eve? I was tempted, as was my ancestor on my mother's 

 side. Not by an apple, but by a pumpkin pie. Under one 

 of the spread napkins I found a nipe brown pumpkin pie, 



cut into eight big triangular slices, fitting together to 

 make a complete circular delicious-looking pie. Now* if 

 there is anything the rural Long Islanders know how to 

 make to perfection, it is jrampkin pie. It seemed to mo 

 that all my hunger returned at the sight of that pie, and 

 that nothing would appease it but a slice. Should I? Well, 

 why not? I had partaken of the other "refreshments," 

 and why not the pie also? So whispered the serpent Epi- 

 curus in my ear, and like Eve I succumbed. 



One slice — and another, for it tasted good. That left a, 

 big white triangular gap in the brown circle, and that 

 gaj) there was no means of filling. Pies are constructed 

 on a gometrical principle, viz.: Complete P.P. (stands for 

 pumpkin pie)=8 sectors; 8 sectors — 2=6. That was the 

 solution to a mathematical certainly. There was no get- 

 ting over the two missing sectors — the glaring white 

 empty space in the pie spoke for itself to the tune of two 

 missing slices. 



Thinking that the least I could do was to give the 

 people who had so kindly, though unwittingly, enter- 

 tained me as little trouble as ijossible, I washed the cups, 

 plates and other utensils I had used, carefully covered up 

 and arranged all the dishes precisely as "l had found 

 them and prepared to take my leave, just as a faint 

 glimmer in the eastern sky announced the approach of 

 dawn. Both the dogs were fast asleep on a piece of rag 

 carpet in front of the stove, in which the fire was again 

 smouldering, just as I had found it when I eame in ; the 

 odor of cigar smoke had vanished, and aa I stood by the 

 half open door looking back into the room there was not 

 the faintest apparent trace of any one having been there 

 since the legitimate occupants left. Everything was in 

 apple-pie order, precisely as I had found it: and as I softly 

 closed the inner door behind me (for I still had that 

 strange feeling of somebody being in the room, which 

 somebody I didn't wish to disturb) and stood alone in the 

 dark outer room, I did not, strange to say, feel any 

 qualms of conscience, but on the contrary was immensely 

 refreshed and relieved after my rest and nocturnal ban- 

 quet all by myself in that lonely house. 



As I reached the white sandy roadway a crimson line 

 near the horizon heralded the approach of d.ay, and at a 

 considerable distance ahead of me, and a little to the 

 right, shone the bright lantern of Shinnecock light. I 

 knew that by following the road in that direction I 

 should soon striije familiar landmarks, and I was not mis- 

 taken; after half an hour's walk I reached the cross-roads 

 at the end of the woods, with its well remembered tall 

 sycamore, blasted by lightning, and the rest of the way 

 home was plain enough sailing. I reached the house 

 and stepped softly on the veranda without making any 

 noise, crept quietly up-stairs and was soon abed and 

 asleep, none the worse for my night's adventure or ray 

 late supper, 



A few days after this I was in a boat bound for South- 

 ampton. It was a large, roomy catboat and there must 

 have been at least a doz?n people aboai'd besides myself. 

 It was evident that they were all laboring under some ex- 

 citement. They came from Good Groimd and Pon Quogue 

 while I stepped on board at Canoe Place, where the 

 jjarty had touched for clams and other refreshments. It 

 soon became clear to me that the exciting subject of con- 

 versation was the miraculous disappearance of a piece of 

 "punkin'-pie" from a covered dish at the house of one of 

 the occupants of the boat, some evenings before. The 

 spokesman was emphatic in declaring that "it was cl'ar 

 as nobody had been in the house, for jiary thing was 

 teched or disturbed in the least!" 



"Well, I swan!" said the skipper, "it must 'a been 

 spooks," 



""Yes, yes," said another, "thafa just what I say; o' 

 course it was spooks — mebbe the same spook that be- 

 witched old Cap'n Mumford's hogs, as is what they call a 

 hog spook!" 



This was not very complimentary to me, so I decided 

 to keep mum and say nothing. 



"It couldn't 'a' been the dogs?" timidly suggested one 

 of the party, a small man in store clothes and with blonde 

 side whiskers; but his suggestion was met with the scorn 

 and derision it deserved by all the rest, including the skip- 

 per. 



"Dogs!" said the chief spokesman, at whose house the 

 strange incident had happened, "d'you 'spose dogs could 

 take off a na,pkin, or rake a pie from imder a napkin, and 

 it ne'er be seen? I've seen trained dogs at the circus, but 

 I swan as I ne'er saw dogs as could do that!" That prop- 

 osition was assented to all around, and it was settled that 

 the house must have been visited by some kind of a spook 

 or "fairy" (that sounded better than hog spook, at any 

 rate) — "pi'obably because the seeds from which the pump- 

 kins had been grown, from which the pie was made, had 

 not been steeped in salt water," was suggested by some 

 one, and accepted as a very likely proposition. 



I gathered from what I heard while we bounded merrily 

 over the blue waters of the bay on our way to Southamp- 

 ton, than on the night of jthe adventure the folks at the 

 house had all gone to the political meeting at Riverhead, 

 intending to return before supper; and as they would be 

 tired when they returned, everything was with fore- 

 thought "fixed" and in readiness. By some accident, how- 

 ever, the train was missed, and, as there were ladies in the 

 j)ai-ty and no team could be obtained, it was decided tore- 

 main with friends in Riverhead over night and take the 

 early morning train to Good Ground, Avhich is only a few 

 miles from Pon Quogue. Early the following morning 

 the owner of the house, with his family, returned to their 

 home, to find, as they expected, everything (apparently^) 

 exactly as they had left it the night before, except that m 

 some mysterious and inexplicable manner part of a pie 

 had disappeared from a dish under a napkin, which had 

 been carefully spread over it, as over all the other dishes 

 on the table. Inquiries at the nearest neighbor showed 

 that none of them had been at the house during the 

 absence of the family; the dogs had not been heard to 

 bark, as they invariably did on the approach of tramps 

 and other strangers; nothing else in the house was missing; 

 not a thing had been distiirbed; in short, the whole affair- 

 of the pie was an inscrutable mystery! 



And 80 it vsdll remain, until Captain P (for I after- 

 ward learned the name of the owner of the house) 

 reads this confession, and with it I tender him and 

 his household my smcere thanks for the hospitable refuge 

 and repast I had at his home in my character of "hog 

 spook," or "fairy," on the night when I was lost at Pon 

 Quogue. ' i^oms Bagger. 



