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As Tish said, some ideas are so large that the average person cannot see them at all.

We had fixed on Maine. It seemed to combine all the necessary qualities: woods and lakes, rabbits, game and fish, and–solitude. Besides, Aggie’s hay fever is better the farther north she gets. On the day we were leaving, Mr. Ostermaier came to see us.

“I–I really must protest, ladies,” he said. “That sort of thing may be all right for savages, but–“

“Are we not as intelligent as savages?” Tish demanded.

“Primitive people are inured to hardships, and besides, they have methods of their own. They can make fire–” “So can I,” retorted Tish. “Any fool can make a fire with a rubbing-stick. It’s been done in thirty-one seconds.”

“If you would only take some matches,” he wailed, “and a good revolver, Miss Letitia. And–you must pardon this, but I have your well-being at heart–if I could persuade you to take along some–er–flannels and warm clothing!”

“Clothing,” said Tish loftily, “is a matter of habit, Mr. Ostermaier.”

I think he got the idea from this that we intended to discard clothing altogether, for he went away almost immediately, looking rather upset, and he preached on the following Sunday from “Consider the lilies of the field…. Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”

We left on Monday evening, and by Tuesday at noon we were at our destination, as far as the railroad was concerned. Tish had a map with the lake we’d picked out, and we had figured that we’d drive out to within ten miles or so of it and then send the driver back. The lake was in an uninhabited neighborhood, with the nearest town twenty-five miles away. We had one suitcase containing our blankets, sandals, short dresses, soap, hairpins, salt-box, knives, scissors, and a compass, and the leather thongs for rabbit snares that we had had cut at a harness shop. In the other suitcase was the tepee.

We ate a substantial breakfast at Tish’s suggestion, because we expected to be fairly busy the first day, and there would be no time for hunting. We had to walk ten miles, set up the tent, make a fire and gather nuts and berries. It was about that time, I think, that I happened to recall that it was early for nuts. Still there would be berries, and Tish had added mushrooms to our menu.

We found a man with a spring wagon to drive us out and Tish showed him the map.

“I guess I can get you out that way,” he said, “but I ain’t heard of no camp up that direction.”

“Who said anything about a camp?” snapped Tish. “How much to drive us fifteen miles in that direction?”

“Fifteen miles! Well, about five dollars, but I think–“

“How much to drive us fifteen miles without thinking?”

“Ten dollars,” said the man; and as he had the only wagon in the town we had to pay it.

It was a lovely day, although very warm. The morning sun turned the woods to fairylike glades. Tish sat on the front seat, erect and staring ahead.

Aggie bent over and touched my arm lightly. “Isn’t she wonderful!” she whispered; “like some adventurer of old–Balboa discovering the Pacific Ocean, or Joan of Arc leading the what-you-call-’ems.”

But somehow my enthusiasm was dying. The sun was hot and there were no berry-bushes to be seen. Aggie’s fairy glades in the woods were filled, not with dancing sprites, but with gnats. I wanted a glass of iced tea, and some chicken salad, and talcum powder down my neck. The road was bad, and the driver seemed to have a joke to himself, for every now and then he chuckled, and kept his eyes on the woods on each side, as if he expected to see something. His manner puzzled us all.

“You can trust me not to say anything, ladies,” he said at last, “but don’t you think you’re playing it a bit low down? This ain’t quite up to contract, is it?”