tea in the woods, and I really don't care for it."

"We can have 'most anything in the woods, ma'am," said Matlack, "that we
can have anywhere else, providin' you don't mind what sort of fashion you
have it in. I thought it might be sort of comfortin' to you to have a cup
of tea. I've noticed that in most campin' parties of the family order
there's generally one or two of them that's lonesome the first day; and
the fact is I don't count on anything particular bein' done on the first
day in camp, except when the party is regular hunters or fishermen. It's
just as well for some of them to sit round on the first day and let things
soak into them, provided it isn't rain, and the next day they will have a
more natural feelin' about what they really want to do. Now I expect you
will be off on some sort of a tramp to-morrow, ma'am, or else be out in
the boat; and as for that young lady, she's not goin' to sketch no more
after to-day. She's got young Martin out in the boat, restin' on his oars,
while she's puttin' him into her picture. She's rubbed him out so often
that I expect he'll fall asleep and tumble overboard, or else drop one of
his oars."

"Mr. Matlack," said Mrs. Archibald, "will you please sit down a moment? I
want to ask you something."

"Certainly, ma'am," said he, and forthwith seated himself on a log near
by, picking up a stick as he did so, and beginning to shave the bark from
it with his pocket-knife.

"Do you know," said she, "if there are panthers in these woods?"

Matlack looked up at her quickly. "I expect you heard them walkin' about
your cabin last night," said he; "and not only panthers, but most likely a
bear or two, and snakes rustlin' in the leaves; and, for all I know, coons
or 'possums climbin' in and out of the window."

"Oh, nothing so bad as that," she replied. "I only thought--"

"Excuse me, ma'am," he interrupted. "I didn't mean that you heard all
those things, but most likely a part of them. Hardly any family parties
goes into camp that some of them don't hear wild beasts the first night.
But they never come no more. Them kind of wild beasts I call
first-nighters, and they're about the worst kind we've got, because they
really do hurt people by scratchin' and clawin' at their nerves, whereas
the real wild beasts in these parts--and they're mighty scarce, and never
come near camp--don't hurt nobody."

"I am glad to hear it," said she. "But what on earth can be keeping Mr.
Archibald? Wh