Scotia
waters. Canned salmon on a fishing trip! The very thought of it was an
offense; I demanded that it be left behind with the porcupine. Never, I
declared, would I bemean myself by eating that cheap article of
commerce--that universally indigenous fish food--here in the home of the
chief, the prince, the _ne plus ultra_ of all fishes--the Nova Scotia
trout.

So Del put the can away, smiling a little, and produced beans. That was
different. One may eat beans anywhere under the wide sky.

Chapter Nine

_The black rock juts on the hidden pool_
_And the waters are dim and deep,_
_Oh, lightly tread--'tis a royal bed,_
_And a king lies there asleep._

Chapter Nine

It was well into the afternoon before the canoes reached the end of the
carry--poking out through the green--one on the shoulders of each guide,
inverted like long shields, such as an ancient race might have used as a
protection from arrows. Eddie and I, meantime, had been employed getting
a mess of frogs, for it was swampy just there, and frogs, mosquitoes and
midges possessed the locality. We anointed for the mosquitoes and
"no-see-ums," as the midges are called by the Indians, and used our
little rifles on the frogs.

I wonder, by the way, what mosquitoes were made for. Other people have
wondered that before, but you can't overdo the thing. Maybe if we keep
on wondering we shall find out. Knowledge begins that way, and it will
take a lot of speculation to solve the mosquito mystery.

I can't think of anything that I could do without easier than the
mosquito. He seems to me a creature wholly devoid of virtues. He is a
glutton, a poisoner, a spreader of disease, a dispenser of disturbing
music. That last is the hardest to forgive. If he would only be still I
could overlook the other things. I wonder if he will take his voice with
him into the next world. I should like to know, too, which place he is
bound for. I should like to know, so I could take the other road.[2]

Across Mountain Lake was not far, and then followed another short
carry--another link of removal--to a larger lake, Pescawess. It was
nearly five miles across Pescawess, but we made good time, for there was
a fair wind. Also we had the knowledge that Pescawah Brook flows in on
the other side, and the trout there were said to be large and not often
disturbed.

We camped a little below this brook, and while the tents were going up
Eddie and I took one of th