ad known before in all my life. I
had, in Eddie, a peerless instructor, and I had such water for a drill
ground as is not found in every day's, or every week's, or every month's
travel. Besides, there were fish. Singly and in pairs they came--great,
beautiful, mottled fellows--sometimes leaping clear of the water like a
porpoise, to catch the fly before it fell. There were none less than a
pound, and many over that weight. When we had enough for supper and
breakfast--a dozen, maybe--we put back the others that came, as soon as
taken from the hook. The fishing soon ended then, for I believe the
trout have some means of communication, and one or two trout returned to
a pool will temporarily discourage the others. It did not matter. I had
had enough, and once more, thanks to Eddie, returned to the camp,
jubilant.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] When this chapter appeared in _The Outing Magazine_ Frederic
Remington wrote as follows:

"My dear Paine: Just read your _Outing_ article on the woods and your
speculation on 'why mosquitoes were made,' etc. I know the answer. They
were created to aid civilization--otherwise, no man not an idiot would
live anywhere else than in the woods."

I am naturally glad to have this word of wisdom from an authority like
Remington, but I still think that Providence could have achieved the
same result and somehow managed to leave the mosquito out of it.

Chapter Ten

_Where the path is thick and the branches twine_
_I pray you, friend, beware!_
_For the noxious breath of a lurking vine_
_May wither your gladness there._

Chapter Ten

It was raining next morning, but that was not the worst. During the
night I had awakened with a curious, but not entirely unfamiliar
sensation about one of my eyes. There was a slight irritant, itching
tendency, and the flesh felt puffy to the touch. I tried to believe it
was imagination, and went to sleep again.

But there was no doubt next morning. Imagination is a taunting jade, but
I don't believe she could close one of my eyes and fatten up the
other--not in so short a time. It was poison ivy--that was what it
was--and I had it bad.

[Illustration: "Our one looking-glass was not big enough to hold all of
even one eye."]

When Eddie woke, which he did, finally, he took one look at me and dove
back into his sleeping bag out of pure fear. He said I was a sight, and
he was correct. Our one looking-glass was not big enough to hold all o