The surface of the river, deep blue-gray, seemed rising everywhere in little jets to meet the rain. Rapids, eddies, still waters, weedy edges, all looked alike; there were neither waves nor swirls nor gla.s.sy slicks, but all were roughly furry under the mult.i.tudinous a.s.saults of the fierce rain-drops. The sky was mottled lead-color, the wind blew less strongly, but coldcold. And under that water the ba.s.s were biting, my rod was bending double, my reel softly screaming as I gave line, and one after another I drew the fish alongside and dipped them out with my landing net.
Then, as suddenly as they had begun, they stopped biting. I waited long minutes; nothing happened, and all at once I realized that I was very wet and very cold. Wading ash.o.r.e, I saw Jonathan shivering along up the narrow beach toward me, his shoulders drawn in to half their natural spread, neck tucked in between his collar-bones, knees slightly bent.
You cant be cold? I questioned as soon as he was near enough to hear me through the slash of the rain and wind.
No, of course not; are you?
We didnt discuss it, but ran up the bank to the rock-ledge and crouched under it, our teeth literally chattering.
Did you ever see such fishing? I managed to stammer.
Great! But oh, _why_ didnt I bring the whiskey bottle?
Lets run for camp! We cant be wetter.
We crawled out into the rain again, and first sprinted and then dog-trotted along the river edge. No bird notes now in the woods beside us, no whirring of wings; only the rain sounds: soft swishings and drippings and gusty showerings, very different from the flat, flicking sounds when rain first starts in dry woods.
Camp looked a little cheerless, but a blazing fire, started with dry stuff we had stowed inside the tent, changed things, and dry clothes changed them still more, and we sat within the tent flaps and ate ginger-snaps in great contentment of spirit while we waited for the rain to stop.
It did stop, and very soon the fish were sizzling in the pan.
Of course, if we had a watch, now suggested Jonathan, as he carefully tucked under the pan little sticks of just the right length.
What should we know more than we do nowthat were hungry? I asked.
Well, for one thing, wed know what time it is, replied Jonathan tranquilly.
And for another wed know whether its dinner or supper Im cooking, I supplemented. But does it matter? You wont get anything different, no matter which it isjust fish is what youll get. And pretty soon the sun will be out, and you can set up a stick and watch the shadow and make a sundial for yourself.
Oh, I dont really care which it is.
Do you suppose I dont know that! And meanwhile, you might cut the bread and make some toast,there are some good embers on your side under the pan,and Ill get the b.u.t.ter, and there well be.
By the time the toast was made and the fish curling brownly away from the pan, the sun had indeed come out, at first pale and watery, then clear, and still high enough in the heavens to set the soaked earth steaming fragrantly with its heat. Odors of hemlock and wet earth mingled with odors of toast and fried fish.
Um-m! Smell it all! I said. What a lot we should miss if we didnt eat in the kitchen!
Or cook in the dining-roomwhich?
And hear that song sparrow! Doesnt it sound as if the rain had washed his song a little cleaner and clearer?
There followed the wonderful afterlight that a short, drenching rain leaves behind ita hush of light, deeply pervasive and friendly. The sunshine slanted across the gleaming wet rocks in the river, lit up the rain-darkened trunks of the hemlocks, glinted on the low-hanging leaves, and flashed through the dripping edges of sagging fern fronds. As twilight came on, we canoed across to the side of the river where the road laythe other side was steep and pathless woodsand walked down to the nearest farmhouse to buy eggs for the morning. Back again by the light of a low-hung moon, and across the dim water to our own island and the embers of our fire.
Oh, Jonathan! We never asked them what time it was! I said. I meant tofor your sakeI thought youd sleep better if you knew.
Too bad! Probably I should have. I thought of it, of course, but was afraid that if I asked it would spoil your day.
It would take something pretty bad to spoil a day like this one, I said.
Two days later the weather turned still and warm, the ba.s.s refused to bite, and even the sunfish lay, shy or wary or indifferent, in their shallow, sunny pools, so we resolved to walk down the river to the post-office, four miles away, for possible mail. As we sat on the steps of the little store, looking it over,Heres news, said Jonathan; Jack and Molly say theyll run up if we want them, day after to-morrowup on the morning train, and back on the evening.
Good! Tell them to come along.
Noits to-morrowletters been here since yesterday. Ill telegraph.
As we tramped home we planned the day. Well meet them and all walk up together, said Jonathan.
Wed better catch some ba.s.s and leave them all hooked in a pool, ready for them to pull out, I added; otherwise they may not catch any. And maybe youd better meet them and Ill have dinner ready when you get back.
Nonsense! You come, and well all get dinner when we get back. Thats what theyre coming forto see the whole thing.
But if its latetheyve got to get back for that down train.
Welltime enough.
Oh, Jonathan! What about catching that train?
Theyll have watcheswatches that go.
But what about our meeting them? The train arrives at 10:15, they said.
What does 10:15 look like in the sky, I wonder!
Or rather, what does 8.45 look like? It takes an hour and a half to get there, counting crossing the river.
Yesdear me! Well, Jonathan, well just have to get up early and go, and then wait.
Or else take our watch to the farmhouse and set it.
Jonathan, I will not! Id rather start at daylight.
Which was very nearly what we did. The morning opened with a sun obscured, and I felt sure it was stealing a march on us and would suddenly burst out upon us from a noonday sky. We breakfasted hastily, ferried across to sh.o.r.e, and set a swinging pace down the road. As we walked, the sun burned through the mist, and our shadows came out, dim, long things, striding with the exaggerated gait that shadows have, over the gra.s.sy banks to our right.
I think, said Jonathan, it may be as late as seven oclock, but perhaps its only six.
When we reached the station, the official clock registered 8.30. We strolled over to the store-and-post-office and got more lettersone from Molly and Jack saying thank you theyd come. They dont entirely understand our mail system up here, said Jonathan. We got some ginger-cookies and some milk and had a second breakfast, and finally wandered back to the station to wait for the train. It came, bearing the expected two, and much friendliness. Get our letter? There, Jack! He said you wouldnt, but I said you would. I made him send it four miles to walk? What fun!
It was fun, indeed, and all went well until after dinner, when Jacksaying, Well, maybe wed better be starting back for that traindrew out his watch. He opened it, muttered something, put it to his ear, then began to wind it rapidly. He wound and wound. We all laughed.
Looks as if you hadnt remembered to wind it last night, said Jonathan, glancing at me.
I havent done that in months, hang it! Give me the time, will you, Jonathan? said Jack.
Sorry! Jonathan was smiling genially. Mines run down too. It stopped at twenty-two minutes before fiveA. M., I think.
What luck! And Molly didnt bring hers.
You told me not to, Molly flicked in.