n the things he shot, and clean his fish, and dig bait
if he wanted it. I'd tramp into the woods after him, and carry the gun and
the victuals and fishin'-poles, and I'd set traps and row a boat and build
fires, and let him go along and work out his own nater smokin' or in any
other way he was born to. That's the biggest thing I've found out about
myself. I never knowed, until I began, this mornin', explorin' of my own
nater, what a powerful hard thing it is, when I'm thinkin' of my own
individdlety, to keep somebody else's individdlety from poppin' up in
front of it, and so says I to myself, 'If I can think of both them
individdleties at the same time it will suit me fust-rate.' And when you
come along I thought I'd let you know what sort of a nater I've got, for
it ain't likely you'd ever find it out for yourself. And now that we're in
that business--"

"Hello!" cried Matlack, springing to his feet. "There is somebody callin'
me. Who's there?" he shouted, stepping out into the bed of the stream.

A call was now heard, and in a few moments the bishop appeared some
distance below.

"Mr. Matlack," he said, "there's a man at your camp inquiring for you. He
came from Sadler's, and I've been looking high and low for you."

"A man from Sadler's," said Matlack, turning to Mrs. Perkenpine, "and I
must be off to see him. Remember what I told you about the supper." And so
saying, he walked rapidly away.

Out in the open Matlack found the bishop. "Obliged to you for lookin' me
up," he said, "it's a pity to give you so much trouble."

"Oh, don't mention it!" exclaimed the bishop. "You cannot understand,
perhaps, not knowing the circumstances, but I assure you I never was more
obliged to any one than to that man who wants to see you and couldn't find
you. There was no one else to look for you, and I simply had to go."

"You are not goin' to walk back to camp?" inquired Matlack.

"No," replied the bishop, "now that I am here, I think I will go up the
lake and try to find a very secluded spot in the shade and take a nap."

The guide smiled as he walked away. "Don't understand!" said he. "You've
got the boot on the wrong leg."

Arrived at his tent, Matlack found Bill Hammond, a young man in Sadler's
service, who informed him that that burly individual had sent Martin away
in the stage-coach, and had ordered him to come and take his place.

"All right," said Matlack. "I guess you're as good as he was, and so you
can settle d