at had been his name from his christening, only
glancing askance at Field the first time with a twinkle in his eye,
and would give no other name after that. "A name was only a handle to
a man, any way, and one was as good as another, or better."

It would be hard to define the motive that led Field to answer. "Well,
if it's the same to you, Long it is. You can call me Meadow when you
don't think of anything better."

Long had an evident admiration for his companion which increased every
day. Field was a good shot, as good a fisherman as himself, rowed
and walked and sailed with about equal strength and skill, could do
wonderful tricks of tossing balls and other feats, could eat
anything or go without, sleep anywhere, and be good-humored in any
circumstances; and Field found Long a trusty, self-contained, clever
fellow, and was much entertained by his dry humor and amusing stories
of bear-hunts and deer-hunts and queer adventures. They tramped that
region pretty thoroughly, camping out at nights or sleeping at the
nearest of the little settlements.

One morning they took a boat at the head of the lake and rowed down
toward a pond on the east side among the hills, where Long said the
ducks came "so thick you couldn't see through 'em, and where the water
was so shallow and the mud so deep that, when the ducks were shot, the
Devil couldn't get 'em 'thout he had a dog." After a while a wind
came swooping down on the quiet water through a dip in the hills, and
nearly blew the skiff's bows out of water. The sleeping lake woke up,
pitched and foamed, and beat upon the bows and dashed over the young
men till they were nearly as wet as the waves themselves. Field was
pulling to Long's stroke, the wind fluttering his hair in his eyes and
the water running down his back, but he would not say anything till
Long did. Presently Long looked round over his shoulder, and hailed,
"I guess we'd best throw up and get a tow: I hear the Wanita coming
down."

Presently the little steamer came along and threw them a line. Long
caught it and made it fast. They were nearly jerked out of the water
or flung into it, and then went boiling along in the steamer's wake.
A boat-hand drew in the line, and they climbed out, swaying and
floundering through a cloud of spray, and all the passengers crowding
back to see. They went forward and up on deck, and the captain spoke
to Long from the pilot-house, calling him Trapp. Long talked to him
through the