"I should hardly call this canvas-flap a front-door," I said, "but I think it would be better to leave it open; otherwise we should smother. You need not be afraid. I shall keep my gun here by my bedside, and if any one offers to come in, I'll bring him to a full stop quick enough.""Yes, if you are awake. But I suppose we ought not to be afraid of burglars here. People in tents never are. So you needn't shut it."It was awfully quiet and dark and lonely, out there by that creek, when the light had been put out, and we had gone to bed. For some reason I could not go to sleep. After I had been lying awake for an hour or two, Euphemia spoke:
"Are you awake?" said she, in a low voice, as if she were afraid of disturbing the people in the next room.
"Yes," said I. "How long have you been awake?""I haven't been asleep."
"Neither have I."
"Suppose we light the lantern," said she. "Don't you think it would be pleasanter?""It might be," I replied; "but it would draw myriads of mosquitoes.
I wish I had brought a mosquito-net and a clock. It seems so lonesome without the ticking. Good-night! We ought to have a long sleep, if we do much tramping about to-morrow."In about half an hour more, just as I was beginning to be a little sleepy, she said:
"Where is that gun?"
"Here by me," I answered.
"Well, if a man should come in, try and be sure to put it up close to him before you fire. In a little tent like this, the shot might scatter everywhere, if you're not careful.""All right," I said. "Good-night!"
"There's one thing we never thought of!" she presently exclaimed.
"What's that," said I.
"Snakes," said she.
"Well, don't let's think of them. We must try and get a little sleep.""Dear knows! I've been trying hard enough," she said, plaintively, and all was quiet again.
We succeeded this time in going to sleep, and it was broad daylight before we awoke.
That morning, old John came with our water before breakfast was ready. He also brought us some milk, as he thought we would want it. We considered this a good idea, and agreed with him to bring us a quart a day.
"Don't you want some wegetables?" said he. "I've got some nice corn and some tomatoes, and I could bring you cabbage and peas."We had hardly expected to have fresh vegetables every day, but there seemed to be no reason why old John should not bring them, as he had to come every day with the water and milk. So we arranged that he should furnish us daily with a few of the products of his garden.
"I could go to the butcher's and get you a steak or some chops, if you'd let me know in the morning," said he, intent on the profits of further commissions.
But this was going too far. We remembered we were camping out, and declined to have meat from the butcher.
John had not been gone more than ten minutes before we saw Mr. Ball approaching.
"Oh, I hope he isn't going to say we can't stay!" exclaimed Euphemia.
"How d'ye do?" said Mr. Ball, shaking hands with us. "Did you stick it out all night?""Oh yes, indeed," I replied, "and expect to stick it out for a many more nights if you don't object to our occupying your land.""No objection in the world," said he; "but it seems a little queer for people who have a good house to be living out here in the fields in a tent, now, don't it?""Oh, but you see," said I, and I went on and explained the whole thing to him,--the advice of the doctor, the discussion about the proper place to go to, and the good reasons for fixing on this spot.
"Ye-es," said he, "that's all very well, no doubt. But how's the girl?""What girl?" I asked.
"Your girl. The hired girl you left at the house.""Oh, she's all right," said I; "she's always well.""Well," said Mr. Ball, slowly turning on his heel, "if you say so, I suppose she is. But you're going up to the house to-day to see about her, aren't you?""Oh, no," said Euphemia. "We don't intend to go near the house until our camping is over.""Just so,--just so," said Mr. Ball; "I expected as much. But look here, don't you think it would be well for me to ask Dr. Ames to stop in and see how she is gettin' along? I dare say you've fixed everything for her, but that would be safer, you know. He's coming this morning to vaccinate my baby, and he might stop there, just as well as not, after he has left my house."Euphemia and I could see no necessity for this proposed visit of the doctor, but we could not well object to it, and so Mr. Ball said he would be sure and send him.
After our visitor had gone, the significance of his remarks flashed on me. He still thought that Pomona was sick with something catching, and that we were afraid to stay in the house with her.
But I said nothing about this to Euphemia. It would only worry her, and our vacation was to be a season of unalloyed delight.
