A huge white rock balanced the composition to the
left, and a single white sea-gull, like a snowflake against pines,
brooded on its top.
I looked abroad to where the perfect reflection of the hills confused
the shore line. I looked down through five feet of crystal water to
where pebbles shimmered in refraction. I noted the low rocks jutting
from the wood's shelter whereon one might stand to cast a fly. Then I
turned and yelled and yelled and yelled again at the forest.
Billy came through the brush, crashing in his haste. He looked long and
comprehendingly. Without further speech, we turned back to where Dick
was guarding the packs.
That youth we found profoundly indifferent.
"Kawagama," we cried, "a quarter-mile ahead."
He turned on us a lack-lustre eye.
"You going to camp here?" he inquired dully.
"Course not! We'll go on and camp at the lake."
"All right," he replied.
We resumed our packs, a little stiffly and reluctantly, for we had
tasted of woods-travel without them. At the lake we rested.
"Going to camp here?" inquired Dick.
We looked about, but noted that the ground under the cedars was
hummocky, and that the hardwood grew on a slope. Besides, we wanted to
camp as near the shore as possible. Probably a trifle further along
there would be a point of high land and delightful little
paper-birches.
"No," we answered cheerfully, "this isn't much good. Suppose we push
along a ways and find something better.
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