e they could not expect
the bishop to depart in the rain, so they had told him to make himself as
comfortable as he could in the little kitchen tent, and offered him a pipe
and a book. The first he declined, as he never smoked, but the latter he
accepted with delight.

After the mid-day dinner Phil Matlack, in a pair of high hunting-boots and
an oil-skin coat, came to Mr. Archibald and said that as there was nothing
he could do that afternoon, he would walk over to Sadler's and attend to
some business he had there.

"About the bishop?" asked Mr. Archibald.

"Partly," said Matlack. "I understand the fellow is still over there with
those two young men. I don't suppose they'll send him off in the rain, and
as he isn't in my camp, I can't interfere. But it may rain for two or
three days."

"All right," said Mr. Archibald, "and if we want anything we'll ask
Martin."

"Just so," said Matlack. "If there's anything to do that you don't want to
do yourself, you can get him to do it; but if you want to know anything
you don't know yourself, you'd better wait until I come back."

When Matlack presented himself before Peter Sadler he found that ponderous
individual seated in his rolling-chair near the open door, enjoying the
smell of the rain.

"Hello, Phil!" he cried. "What's wrong at the camp?"

The guide left his wet coat and cap on the little piazza outside, and
after carefully wiping his feet, seated himself on a chair near the door.

"There's three things wrong," said he. "In the first place, there's a
tramp out there, and it looks to me as if he was a-goin' to stick, if he
can get allowed to do it."

"Is he too big for you to bounce?" roared Peter. "That's a pretty story to
come tell me!"

"No, he ain't," said the other; "but I haven't got the bouncin' of him.
He's not in my camp. The young men have took him in; but I expect he'll
come over with them as soon as it's done rainin', for when that happens
they're bound to come themselves."

"Look here, Phil," said Peter, "is he dressed in black?"

"Yes, he is," said the guide.

Mr. Sadler slapped his hand on the arm of his chair. "Phil Matlack," he
shouted, "that's my favorite tramp. I never had a man here who paid his
bill in work as he did. It was cash down, and good money. Not a minute of
wood-splitting more or less than the market-price for meals and bed. I'd
like to have a tramp like that come along about twice a week. But I tell
you, Phil, he ain't no tra