Swift had packed his tackle for his
annual vacation into the wilderness, and Theo had looked on with
hungry eyes as the rods, flies, and tramping boots had been stowed
away in the canvas grips, his father had said:
"Wait until you are a bit older, son, and you shall go with me."
And now that day had come, and here he was! It seemed too good to be
true.
He glanced up to find his father smiling down at him.
"Well?" questioned the older man. "What do you think of the camp? Does
it come up to your expectations?"
"I should say it did!" Theo managed to gasp. "It is great, Father!"
"Think you can be contented here for a month?"
"Contented!" laughed Theo.
"You won't be getting lonesome and wishing you were back in New York?"
"Not much."
"Well, I hope you'll have a good time. Certainly with plenty of
fishing and tramping you should. You will find Manuel, our Indian
guide, a never-ending source of entertainment; he can do everything
from dressing a moose to building a canoe. There isn't a trail through
these woods that he couldn't travel blindfolded. You will be perfectly
safe with him; only you must do exactly as he says, no matter how
silly his orders may seem.
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