th three
of her children,--all too young to leave behind, she said,--and took
charge of the camp.

Our day proved to be as delightful as we had anticipated, and when we
returned, hungry and tired, we were perfectly charmed to find that Mrs.
Old John had our supper ready for us.

She charged a quarter, extra, for this service, and we did not begrudge
it to her, though we declined her offer to come every day and cook and
keep the place in order.

"However," said Euphemia, on second thoughts, "you may come on Saturday
and clean up generally."

The next day, which was Friday, I went out in the morning with the
gun. As yet I had shot nothing, for I had seen no birds about the camp,
which, without breaking the State laws, I thought I could kill, and so I
started off up the river-road.

I saw no game, but after I had walked about a mile, I met a man in a
wagon.

"Hello," said he, pulling up; "you'd better be careful how you go
popping around here on the public roads, frightening horses."

As I had not yet fired a single shot, I thought this was a very impudent
speech, and I think so still.

"You had better wait until I begin to pop," said I, "before you make
such a fuss about it."

"No," said he, "I'd rather make the fuss before you begin. My horse is
skittish," and he drove off.

This man annoyed me; but as I did not, of course, wish to frighten
horses, I left the road and made my way back to the tent over some very
rough fields. It was a poor day for birds, and I did not get a shot.

"What a foolish man!" said Euphemia, when I told her the above incident,
"to talk that way when you stood there with a gun in your hand. You
might have raked his wagon, fore and aft."

That afternoon, as Euphemia and I were sitting under a tree by the
tent, we were very much surprised to see Pomona come walking down the
peninsula.

I was annoyed and provoked at this. We had given Pomona positive orders
not to leave the place, under any pretense, while we were gone. If
necessary to send for anything, she could go to the fence, back of the
barn, and scream across a small field to some of the numerous members
of old John's family. Under this arrangement, I felt that the house was
perfectly safe.

Before she could reach us, I called out:

"Why did you leave the house, Pomona? Don't you know you should never
come away and leave the house empty? I thought I had made you understand
that."

"It isn't empty," said Pomona, in an ent