“I be a man of the woods, as ye see,” replied the trapper, “and Henry, here, be my companion; and though his home be in the city, he has consorted with me so much that he’s fallen into my habits,—­though it should be said to his credit that the Lord gin him nateral gifts in that direction; and when we be roamin’, we take but leetle with us, and our camp be quickly made.  No, no; we will have leetle to offer ye and the lady, but ef, when the sun darkens back of the mountain there, ye will honor an old man by yer comin’, ye shall taste some venison that’s waited three days for the mouth and is tender, as it should be.  And ef the pool here will make its name good, ye shall have a trout cooked as the hunter cooks it when the fire is hot and the wet moss plenty.”

“We will certainly come,” answered the man.  “I came into the woods to avoid men, not to meet them; but your face is honest and open as the day, old man; and your head is white as is the head of wisdom.  I shall be glad to talk with you, and I doubt not your companion is as educated as you are knowing.”

“I’ve seed the comin’ and goin’ of seventy year sence I’ve been on the arth,” answered the trapper, stroking his head with the peculiar motion of the aged when speaking of their age reflectively; “and much have I seed of the passions of my kind, and many be the lessons that natur’ has larnt me; and ef the convarse of an old man who has lived leetle in the clearin’ would be pleasant to ye, yer comin’ will be welcome.—­Yis, yis, boy, I seed it.  Ye had better j’int yer rod, and I will start a fire.  Ye know the size ye want, and ye’ll find ’em out there where the bubbles make the letter S.”

The two strangers retired toward their own camp, and our friends set about their several tasks.  Herbert proceeded to joint his rod and the trapper to make a rude fire-place from the stones that lined the bank at the water’s edge.

The preparations for the forthcoming repast went forward rapidly.  The pool kept its reputation good and yielded abundantly to the solicitation of Herbert’s flies.  The trout were large and in excellent condition and were quickly made ready for the trapper’s treatment.  A large piece of bark, peeled from a giant spruce standing near, and laid upon the ground, served for the table,—­against the dark bark of which the tin dishes freshly scoured in the sand of the beach gleamed bright.  The venison and trout were cooked as only one accustomed to the woods can do it, and the trapper contemplated the work of his skill with pleased complacency.  At each plate Herbert had placed a bunch of checkerberries, and a small bouquet of small but exceedingly fragrant flowers adorned the centre of the bark table.

At this moment the man and girl drew near.

“I trust,” said the man, as they approached, “that we have not kept you waiting by our tardiness?”

“Yer comin’ be true to a minit,” answered the trapper, glancing up at the western mountain, the top of whose pines the lower edge of the sun had just touched.  “The meat be ready.  We sartinly can’t boast of the bark or the dishes,” he continued, “but the victuals be as good as natur’ allows, and yer welcome be hearty.”