A SUMMER IN A CAÑON & POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM (Illustrated). Kate Douglas Wiggin
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sea coming in at my south window, and a whiff of jasmine and honeysuckle from the piazza. That would be nonsense. Are your trunks packed?’
‘Trunks!’ exclaimed Polly. ‘Would you believe it, our clothes are packed in gunny-sacks! We start in our camping-dresses, with ulsters for the steamer and dusters for the long drive. Then we each have—let me see what we have: a short, tough riding-skirt with a jersey, a bathing-dress, and some gingham morning-gowns to wear about the camp at breakfast-time.’
‘And flannel gowns for the night, and two pairs of boots, and a riding-cap and one hat apiece,’ added Margery.
‘But oh, Elsie, my dear, you should see Dicky in his camping-suits,’ laughed Bell. ‘They are a triumph of invention on mamma’s part. Just imagine! one is of some enamelled cloth that was left over from the new carriage cushions; it is very shiny and elegant; and the other, truly, is of soft tanned leather, and just as pretty as it can be. Then he has hob-nailed, copper-toed boots, and a hat that ties under his chin. Poor little man, he has lost his curls, too, and looks rather like a convict.’
Mrs. Howard came in the door while Bell was speaking, and laughed heartily at the description of Dicky’s curious outfit. ‘What time do you start?’ she asked, as she laid a bunch of mignonette on Elsie’s table.
‘At eleven to-morrow morning,’ Bell answered. ‘Everything is packed. We are to start in the steamer, and when we come to our old landing, about forty miles down the coast, we are to get off and take a three-seated thorough-brace wagon, and drive over to Las Flores Cañon. Pancho has hired a funny little pack mule; he says we shall need one in going up the mountain, and that the boys can take him when they go out shooting,—to carry the deer home, you know.’
‘If I can bring Elsie down, as I hope, we must come by land,’ said Mrs. Howard. ‘I thought we could take two days for the journey, sleeping at the Burtons’ ranch on the way. The doctor says that if she can get strength enough to bear the ride, the open-air life will do her good, even if she does nothing but lie in the hammock.’
‘And be waited upon by six willing slaves,’ added Polly.
‘And be fed on canned corned beef and tomato stew,’ laughed Bell.
‘Not a bit of it,’ said Margery. ‘Hop Yet is a splendid cook, if he has anything to cook, and we’ll feed her on broiled titbits of baby venison, goat’s milk, wild bees’ honey, and cunning little mourning doves, roasted on a spit.’
‘Good gracious,’ cried Bell, ‘what angels’ food! only I would as soon devour a pet canary as a mourning dove. But to think that I’ve been trying to diet for a week in order to get intimate with suffering and privation! Polly came to stay with me one night, and we slept on the floor, with only a blanket under us, and no pillow; it was perfectly horrid. Polly dreamed that her grandfather ate up her grandmother, and I that Dicky stabbed the Jersey calf with a pickle-fork.’
‘Horrors!’ ejaculated Margery; ‘that’s a pleasant prospect for your future bedfellows. I hope the gophers won’t make you nervous, gnawing and scratching in the straw; I got used to them last summer. But we really must go, darling,’ and she stooped to kiss Elsie good-bye.
‘Well, I suppose you ought,’ she answered. ‘But remember you are to start from this gate; Aunt Truth has promised me the fun of seeing you out of sight.’
The girls went out at a side door, and joined the boys, who were busily at work cleaning their guns on the broad western porch.
‘How are you coming on?’ questioned Polly.
‘Oh, finely,’ answered Jack, who always constituted himself chief spokesman, unless driven from the rostrum by some one possessed of a nimbler tongue. ‘I only hope your feminine togs are in half as good order.’
‘We take no baggage to speak of,’ said Bell, loftily. ‘Papa has cut us down to the very last notch, and says the law allows very few pounds on this trip.’
‘The less the better,’ quoth Geoff, cheerily; ‘then you’ll have to polish up your mental jewels.’
‘Which you consider imitation, I suppose,’ sniffed Polly.
‘Perish the thought!’ cried Jack. ‘But, speaking of mental jewels, you should see the arrangements Geoff has made for polishing his. He has actually stuck in six large volumes, any one of which would be a remedy for sleeplessness. What are you going to study, Miss Pol-y-on-o-mous Oliver?’
‘Now, Jack, let us decide at once whether you intend to be respectful or not. I don’t propose to expose myself to your nonsense for two months unless you make me good promises.’
‘Why, that wasn’t disrespectful. It is my newest word, and it simply means having many titles. I’m sure you have more than most people.’
‘Very well, then! I’ll overlook the irreverence this time, and announce that I shall not take anything whatever to read, but simply reflect upon what I know already.’
‘That may last for the first week,’ said Bell, slyly, ‘but what will you do afterward?’
‘I’ll reflect upon what you don’t know,’ retorted Polly. ‘That will easily occupy me two months.’
Fortunately, at the very moment this stinging remark was made, Phil Noble dashed up to the front gate, flung his bridle over the hitching-post, and lifted his hat from a very warm brow.
‘Hail, chief of the commissary department!’ cried Geoffrey, with mock salute. ‘Have you despatched the team?’
‘Yes; everything is all right,’ said Phil, breathlessly, delivering himself of his information in spasmodic bursts of words. ‘Such a lot of work it was! here’s the list. Pancho will dump them on the ground and let us settle them when we get there. Such a load! You should have seen it! Hardly room for him to sit up in front with the Chinaman. Just hear this,’ and he drew a large document from what Polly called ‘a back-stairs pocket.’
‘Forty cans corned beef, four guns, three Dutch cheeses, pickles, fishing-tackle, flour, bacon, three bushels onions, crate of dishes, Jack’s banjo, potatoes, Short History of the English People, cooking utensils, three hair pillows, box of ginger-snaps, four hammocks, coffee, cartridges, sugar, Macaulay’s Essays, Pond’s extract, sixteen hams, Bell’s guitar, pop-corn, molasses, salt, St. Jacob’s Oil, Conquest of Mexico, sack of almonds, flea-powder, and smoked herring. Whew! I packed them all myself.’
‘In precisely that order?’ questioned Polly.
‘In precisely that order, Miss Oliver,’ returned Phil, urbanely. ‘Any one who feels that said packing might be improved upon has only to mount the fleet Arabian yonder’ (the animal alluded to seized this moment to stand on three legs, hang his head, and look dejected), ‘and, giving him the rein, speed o’er the trackless plain which leads to San Miguel, o’ertake the team, and re-pack the contents according to her own satisfaction.’
‘No butter, nor eggs, nor fresh vegetables?’ asked Margery. ‘We shall starve!’
‘Not at all,’ quoth Jack. ‘Polly will gracefully dispose a horse-blanket about her shoulders, to shield her from the chill dews of the early morn, mount the pack mule exactly at cock-crow everyday, and ride to a neighbouring ranch where there are tons of the aforesaid articles awaiting our consumption.’
‘Can you see me doing it, girls? Does it seem entirely natural?’ asked Polly, with great gravity.
‘Now hear my report as chairman of the committee of arrangements,’ said Geoffrey Strong, seating himself with dignity on a barrel of nails. ‘The tents, ropes, tool-boxes, bed-sacks, blankets, furniture, etc., all went down on Monday’s steamer, and I have a telegram from Larry’s Landing saying that they arrived in good order, and that a Mexican gentleman who owns a mammoth wood-cart will take them up to-morrow when we go ourselves. The procession will move at one P.M., wind and weather permitting, in the following order:—
‘1.