The Story of Porcelain Part 1

The Story of Porcelain.

by Sara Ware Ba.s.sett.

CHAPTER I

INTO THE WOODS

Theo Swift dropped into a chair before the blazing fire in the log cabin, and drew a long breath of delight. At last his dream had come true; he was in the heart of the Maine woods! It was a wonderful experience for a boy of his age to be his father's companion on a fis.h.i.+ng trip. Each spring when Dr. 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 wis.h.i.+ng you were back in New York?"

"Not much."

"Well, I hope you'll have a good time. Certainly with plenty of fis.h.i.+ng 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. He knows the woods better than you do--or than I do, for that matter. Remember you are no longer on Fifth Avenue, where you can call a policeman or a taxicab if you get lost. This vast forest is an entirely different proposition."

Theo nodded.

"How still it is," he said softly.

"Yes," rejoined his father; "that is why it means to me something that no other place can. After the rush of the city, the jangle of telephones, the constant sight of sick people, there is nothing to compare with the restfulness of these woods."

The Doctor, who had been standing with his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him, drew out his pipe, lighted it, and puffed a ring of smoke into the air.

"You have had a very busy year, Father."

"Yes, and I fancy there will be a still busier one ahead. Before I attack it I feel that it is my duty to get a good rest. In these war days a doctor never knows where he may be needed to serve. Thus far my place seems to have been at a home hospital. With eight of our operating staff in France it has meant much extra work, too. Not that I am complaining of that. I am only too glad to do my bit wherever it is. But I had got to the point where I felt that the man who can give the best service is the man who does not allow himself to become too f.a.gged. So I determined to take my usual vacation even though on the face of it it seemed a crime to devote myself to nothing but fis.h.i.+ng for a whole month."

Theo glanced into the face of the big, earnest man before him; he felt suddenly very grown up. His father had seldom talked to him like this.

"This war," went on Dr. Swift thoughtfully, "is going to make demands on all of us--demands for money, work, and time. We should be proud to give these, for it is the first time our country has ever asked anything of our generation. We have taken unthinkingly all the benefits America has to offer--libraries; schools; well ordered cities to live in; the blessings of constant peace and prosperity. For it we have returned to the government only the slight taxes demanded for the up-keep of these things; and most of us, I blush to say, have grumbled a great deal about it, at that. As a nation we were becoming too comfortable, too rich, too selfish, too complacent. Now a crisis has arisen when the United States is asking more of us, as it has every right to do; and we should be eager to prove our grat.i.tude for all we have so freely received. Only those who have traveled much can fully realize what a home and an education in a place like America mean.

Never forget, son, that all we can do, even to the sacrifice of our lives, is none too high a price to pay for our beloved country."

"I wish I might have gone to France, Father," said Theo earnestly.

"A boy of fifteen is too young to go," returned Dr. Swift. "If you were older I should be the first to bid you G.o.dspeed, for it is a great opportunity for service. Those who are not sharing it are missing one of life's richest experiences. It means danger, privation, perhaps death; but it means also the exercise of all that is finest in our natures--patriotism, heroism, the dedication of ourselves to a great cause. I should have been proud to have you in France, Theo. However, there is much a boy can do here and now. He can begin being a loyal unselfish citizen, and training himself to bear his part when he shall be older. Get your education first. Prepare yourself to be of value to humanity so that when your time to help comes it may find you useful and ready."

There was a moment of silence.

The great logs in the rough stone chimney crackled and snapped, and up the flue roared the blaze. Outside all was still save when the breeze stirred the giant pines causing them to give out a mighty whisper like the murmur of the sea.

It was a cozy interior over which the firelight flashed.

The log cabin had been sheathed to keep it warm and tight, and to conceal its barrenness on the walls had been tacked a few gaily colored prints. On one side of the room were several well-filled bookshelves, while on the opposite wall were racks for pipes and guns. From over the fireplace an elk's head peered forth, catching the scarlet glow from the fire on its mammoth antlers. Two small bedrooms which led out of this living-room completed the cabin. Outside stood four others built exactly like this one, and in addition a dining-cabin, cook-house, and two cabins for the guides.

Aside from this tiny settlement on the lake's edge there was not a house for twenty miles. It was a wilderness indeed!

"Are there any other people staying here at the camp beside ourselves?" inquired Theo at last.

Dr. Swift, who had seated himself before the fire, nodded.

"Yes, there is a Mr. Croyden, from Trenton, New Jersey, whom I have met here before--a splendid man, whom you will like. He is a great fisherman--comes back every season just about this time. At present there is no one else, so you will not find the woods overcrowded."

Theo laughed at the bare suggestion, then yawned drowsily.

"Nor will you be troubled by not sleeping to-night, eh, son? You look about ready to hit the pillow this minute."

"I am," replied Theo. "I never was so sleepy in my life."

"That is the Maine air."

"Some of it is the effect of the corduroy road," the boy observed with a grin.

"It is a beastly road, that carry," agreed Dr. Swift. "It shakes every bone in your body. When you do manage to get here, however, it certainly is worth the trip. Do you feel as if you could worry down a little dinner?"

"Well, rather!"

The Doctor chuckled.

"So do I. It ought to be ready soon now, for it is nearly six."

Just at this moment the sound of a horn was heard.

Dr. Swift rose promptly.

"That is dinner," he said.

"I expected a bell," Theo answered, springing up.

"Waiting for a j.a.panese gong, are you? Well, you won't hear it here."

Clapping a hand affectionately on his son's shoulder the elder man led the way to the dining-cabin and pushed open the door.

Upon the hearth inside another bright fire glowed, and before it stood a long roughly made table covered with immaculate enamel cloth, on which was spread a smoking meal.