r Island camp passed without incident, and we
all slept profoundly, tired out by the labors of the day before. After
breakfast, the Four set out to explore, with trout-rods and shot-guns.
Bear Island is, with the exception of the cove into which we had put, as
nearly round as an island can be, and perhaps three miles in diameter.
It has two clear brooks which, owing to the comparative inaccessibility
of the place, still contain trout and grayling, though there are few
spots where a fly can be cast on account of the dense underbrush. The
woods contain partridge, or ruffed grouse, and other game in smaller
quantities. I believe my client entertained some notion of establishing
a preserve here.
The insults which had been heaped upon the Celebrity on the yacht seemed
to have raised rather than lowered him in Miss Thorn's esteem, for these
two ensconced themselves among the pines above the camp with an edition
de luxe of one of his works which she had brought along. They were soon
absorbed in one of those famous short stories of his with the ending
left open to discussion. Mr. Cooke was indisposed. He had not yet
recovered from the shaking up his system had sustained, and he took to
a canvas easy chair he had brought with him and placed a decanter of
Scotch and a tumbler of ice at his side. The efficacy of this remedy
was assured. And he demanded the bunch of newspapers he spied protruding
from my pocket.
The rest of us were engaged in various occupations: Mr. Trevor relating
experiences of steamboat days on the Ohio to Mrs. Cooke; Miss Trevor
buried in a serial in the Century; and Farrar and I taking an
inventory of fishing-tackle, when we were startled by aloud and profane
ejaculation. Mr. Cooke had hastily put down his glass and was staring at
the newspaper before him with eyes as large as after-dinner coffee-cups.
"Come here," he shouted over at us. "Come here, Crocker," he repeated,
seeing we were slow to move. "For God's sake, come here!"
In obedience to this emphatic summons I crossed the stream and drew near
to Mr. Cooke, who was busily pouring out another glass of whiskey to
tide him over this strange excitement. But, as Mr. Cooke was easily
excited and on such occasions always drank whiskey to quiet his nerves,
I thought nothing of it. He was sitting bolt upright and held out the
paper to me with a shaking hand, while he pointed to some headlines on
the first page. And this is what I read:
TRE
|