ed and clothed and carry a
tent; you will have with you smoked meat and fish; you will carry under
your arm an Indian clock or sundial; you will have a lamp--if we can
find a clamshell or a broken bottle--and you will have a fire-making
outfit with your monogram on it."

"But, my dear friend," he said, "I am not supposed to have any
assistance and--"

"Assistance!" Tish snapped. "Who said assistance? I'm providing the
brains, but you'll do it all yourself."

He moved over an hour or so later and Tish and I went into the tent to
bed. Somewhat later, when she limped to the fire to see how the leech
was filling up, he and Aggie were sitting together talking, he of
Dorothea and Aggie of Mr. Wiggins. Tish said they were both talking at
the same time, neither one listening to the other, and that it sounded
like this:--"She's so sweet and trusting and honest--well, I'd believe
what she said if she--"

"--fell off a roof on a rainy day and was picked up by a man with a
horse and buggy quite unconscious."

V

The next three weeks were busy times for Percy. He wore Tish's blanket
for two days, and then, finding it in the way, he discarded it
altogether. Seen in daylight it was easy to understand why little
Dorothea was in love with him. He was a handsome young giant, although
much bitten by mosquitoes and scratched with briers.

The arrangement was a good one all round. He knew of things in the wood
we'd never heard of--wild onions and artichokes, and he had found a
clump of wild cherry trees. He made snares of the fibers of tree bark,
and he brought in turtles and made plates out of the shells. And all the
time he was working on his outfit, curing rabbit skins and sewing them
together with fibers under my direction.

When he'd made one sleeve of his coat we had a sort of celebration.
He'd found an empty bottle somewhere in the woods, and he had made a
wild-cherry decoction that he declared was cherry brandy, keeping it in
the sun to ferment. Well, he insisted on opening the brandy that day and
passing it round. We had cups made of leaves and we drank to his sleeve,
although the stuff was villainous. He had put the sleeve on, and it
looked rather inadequate. "Here's fun," he said joyously. "If my English
tailor could see this sleeve he'd die of envy. A sleeve's not all of a
coat, but what's a coat without a sleeve? Look at it--grace, ease of
line, and beauty of material."

Aggie lifted her leaf.

"To Dorothe