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Page 38
A birch canoe glided silently round the point; Roger was kneeling
in the stern, paddling, Indian fashion, while Will and Kitty were
curled up like two kittens in the bow. Hildegarde thought to
herself that he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, so
strong, so gentle, so perfectly graceful; but she did not say so.
"What luck?" cried Bell, as the Cheemaun came alongside the wharf.
Roger held up a string of gleaming fish, two of them long, deep-
bodied fellows, striped with pink and silver. Willy was happy with
three hideous horned pouts, which he declared were the best fish
that swam.
"Oh, pickerel! how delightful!" cried Bell, as she took the
beauties from her brother's hands. "We will bake them for supper,
Hilda; it is our turn, isn't it?"
"Oh!" said Willy, "I thought it was Toots' and Roger's turn. Toots
makes the best griddle-cakes, and she ought always to get supper."
"Willy, you ungrateful little monster!" cried Bell. "And you said
only last night that my biscuits were a dream of joy. You won't
find me baking an extra pan for you, if you are going to turn upon
me in this way."
"Oh yes! so you did, sister," said Willy, penitently. "But you
see, I am griddle-cake hungry to-day, and yesterday I wasn't."
"Come, Hilda! we'll make our little gentleman pickerel-hungry
before he is an hour older!" and the two girls hurried into the
house.
Inside the camp was a large, low room, with a huge open fireplace
filling nearly one side. A plain table stood in the middle; two
hammocks were slung against the walls, which were hung with guns
and fishing-rods. A bookcase in one corner, and Mrs.
Merryweather's workstand in another, completed the furniture of
the primitive parlour. On one side a door opened into the tiny
kitchen, and hither the girls now betook themselves, after
reminding Will and Kitty that it was their turn to set the supper
table. The fire was soon burning brightly in the stove, the kettle
put on to boil, and Hildegarde, rolling up her sleeves, set to
work mixing and moulding biscuits, while Bell devoted herself to
the stuffing and dressing of the big fish.
"I wish I had Izaak Walton here!" she said, as she mixed the bread
stuffing.
"Father Izaak pleasant company would be at any moment," Hilda
assented; "but what do you want him for just now? To cook the fish
for you?"
"Not exactly; I doubt if he was as good in the kitchen as by the
brookside; but to give me his famous receipt for cooking pickerel.
I should like to astonish the family with it. I remember that it
has thyme in it, and sweet marjoram and summer savory, not to
mention oysters and anchovies, a pound of butter, a bottle of
claret and three or four oranges; he gives you your choice about
two cloves of garlic, and says you need not have them unless you
like. Perhaps on the whole it is just as well not to try the dish
at present; the anchovies were left behind, and the orange trees
are not bearing very well this year."
"Dear me!" said Hildegarde. "That is as bad as my Southern receipt
for wedding cake. Two hundred and one pounds of flour and fruit,
and ten eggs to the pound; and if it isn't rich enough then, you
can add two pounds of currants and one of raisins for each pound
of flour. That would make,--let me see! I worked it all out once:
two hundred and seventy pounds of things, and two thousand seven
hundred eggs. What do you suppose they baked it in?"
"In the well!" said Bell. "That would hold it. Or else they built
a pavilion round it, and had the bride and groom dance a minuet on
the top after the ceremony. What fun cook-books are! Any more
pleasantnesses in your Southern friend?"
"Oh, all kinds of good things! I remember the receipt for Seminole
soup; we ought to try that out here, if we could find the
ingredients. 'Take a squirrel, cut it up and put it on to boil.
When the soup is nearly done add to it one pint of picked hickory-
nuts and a spoonful of parched and powdered sassafras leaves, or
the tender top of a young pine tree, which gives a very aromatic
flavour to the soup.'"
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