s.

We were now working up into the lee of the island, whose tall pines stood
clean and black against the red glow of the evening sky. Mr. Cooke began
to give evidences of life, and finally got up and overhauled one of the
ice-chests for a restorative. Farrar put into the little cove, where we
dropped anchor, and soon had the chief sufferers ashore; and a delicate
supper, in the preparation of which Miss Thorn showed her ability as a
cook, soon restored them. For my part, I much preferred Miss Thorn's
dishes to those of the Mohair chef, and so did Farrar. And the Four,
surprising as it may seem, made themselves generally useful about the
camp in pitching the tents under Farrar's supervision. But the Celebrity
remained apart and silent.

CHAPTER XI

Our first, night in the Bear Island camp passed without incident, and we
all slept profoundly, tired out by the labors of the day before. After
breakfast, the Four set out to explore, with trout-rods and shot-guns.
Bear Island is, with the exception of the cove into which we had put, as
nearly round as an island can be, and perhaps three miles in diameter.
It has two clear brooks which, owing to the comparative inaccessibility
of the place, still contain trout and grayling, though there are few
spots where a fly can be cast on account of the dense underbrush. The
woods contain partridge, or ruffed grouse, and other game in smaller
quantities. I believe my client entertained some notion of establishing
a preserve here.

The insults which had been heaped upon the Celebrity on the yacht seemed
to have raised rather than lowered him in Miss Thorn's esteem, for these
two ensconced themselves among the pines above the camp with an edition
de luxe of one of his works which she had brought along. They were soon
absorbed in one of those famous short stories of his with the ending left
open to discussion. Mr. Cooke was indisposed. He had not yet recovered
from the shaking up his system had sustained, and he took to a canvas
easy chair he had brought with him and placed a decanter of Scotch and a
tumbler of ice at his side. The efficacy of this remedy was assured.
And he demanded the bunch of newspapers he spied protruding from my
pocket.

The rest of us were engaged in various occupations: Mr. Trevor relating
experiences of steamboat days on the Ohio to Mrs. Cooke; Miss Trevor
buried in a serial in the Century; and Farrar and I taking an inventory
of fishing-tackle, when we