Tell the camp I have gone fishing. I shall return by noon.
And, Simon"----
"Yes, master."
"Madame de Montlivet is your special care till I return."
CHAPTER XIX
IN THE MIST
I slipped off in grayness the next morning. There was a water fog that
hugged me clammily, and sounds echoed in it as in a metal canopy. I
could not have found my way in open water, but here I could crowd tight
to the shore and keep my bearings. I took a keg of pitch with me, for
when I saw the weather I knew that I would give the canoe many a scrape
on rocks and snags.
It was tedious traveling, and it seemed a long time before I made my
worming way around every inequality in the shore and reached the inlet
where we had eaten lunch. Here I lifted the canoe, turned it bottom
side up in the meadow, and covered it with a sailcloth. I wanted it to
dry, and the air was still dripping moisture. I had expected the fog
to lift before this, but it seemed to be growing heavier.
I tried to light my pipe, but the tobacco was damp and would not burn.
Slow drops dribbled from the trees and the meadow was soggy. Where
should I go? I could hear nothing, and as for seeing anything I could
have passed my own camp a rod away.
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