e head of the lake, and for some distance
above and below the forest stood back from the water's edge. In the shade
of a great oak tree there stood a small log-house, rude enough to look at,
but moderately comfortable within, and from this house to the shore a wide
space was cleared of bushes and undergrowth.

The lake was narrow in proportion to its length, which was about two
miles, and on the other side the forest looked like a solid wall of green
reflected in the water beneath. Even Mrs. Archibald, whose aching back
began to have an effect upon her disposition, was delighted with the
beauty of the scene, which delight endured until she had descended from
her horse and entered the log-cabin in which she was to dwell for a time.

It is not necessary to describe the house, nor is it necessary to dive
into the depths of Mrs. Archibald's mind as she gazed about her, passing
silently from room to room of the little house. She was a good woman, and
she had made up her mind that she would not be a millstone around the
necks of her companions. Many people have been happy in camps, and,
indeed, camp-life has become one of the features of our higher
civilization, and this, from what she had heard, must be a camp above the
common. So, think what she might, she determined to make no open
complaint. If it were possible for her to be happy here, she would be
happy.

As for Margery, no determination was needed in her case. Everything was
better than she had expected to find it. The cabin, with the bark on
almost everything, even the furniture, was just what a house in the woods
ought to be; and when she entered the little studio, which was nearer
allied to the original forest than any other part of the house, she
declared that that must be her room, and that living there she would feel
almost like a dryad in an oak.

"You've camped out before?" said Phil Matlack to Mr. Archibald, as he was
taking a survey of the scene.

"Oh yes," said the other, "I've been out a few days at a time with
fishing-parties, but we never had such a fine camp as this--so well
located and such good accommodations."

"You are a fisherman, then?" said the guide.

"Yes. I am very fond of it. I've fished ever since I was a boy, and know a
good deal about bait, in spite of what Mr. Sadler said."

"I had an idea of that sort," remarked Phil, "but it ain't no use to
contradict Peter. It helps keep up his spirits for him to think he can
read the character