IV
They had a week before their families came. Each evening
they planned to get up early and fish before breakfast. Each
morning they lay abed till the breakfast-bell, pleasantly conscious
that there were no efficient wives to rouse them. The
mornings were cold; the fire was kindly as they dressed.
Paul was distressingly clean, but Babbitt reveled in a good
sound dirtiness, in not having to shave till his spirit was moved
to it. He treasured every grease spot and fish-scale on his
new khaki trousers.
All morning they fished unenergetically, or tramped the dim
and aqueous-lighted trails among rank ferns and moss sprinkled
with crimson bells. They slept all afternoon, and till
midnight played stud-poker with the guides. Poker was a
serious business to the guides. They did not gossip; they
shuffled the thick greasy cards with a deft ferocity menacing
to the "sports;'' and Joe Paradise, king of guides, was sarcastic
to loiterers who halted the game even to scratch.
At midnight, as Paul and he blundered to their cottage over
the pungent wet grass, and pine-roots confusing in the darkness,
Babbitt rejoiced that he did not have to explain to his
wife where he had been all evening.
They did not talk much. The nervous loquacity and opinionation
of the Zenith Athletic Club dropped from them. But
when they did talk they slipped into the naïve intimacy of
college days. Once they drew their canoe up to the bank of
Sunasquam Water, a stream walled in by the dense green of
the hardhack. The sun roared on the green jungle but in the
shade was sleepy peace, and the water was golden and rippling.
Babbitt drew his hand through the cool flood, and mused:
"We never thought we'd come to Maine together!''
"No. We've never done anything the way we thought we
would. I expected to live in Germany with my granddad's
people, and study the fiddle.''
"That's so. And remember how I wanted to be a lawyer
and go into politics? I still think I might have made a go of it.
I've kind of got the gift of the gab—anyway, I can think on
my feet, and make some kind of a spiel on most anything,
and of course that's the thing you need in politics. By golly,
Ted's going to law-school, even if I didn't! Well— I guess
it's worked out all right. Myra's been a fine wife. And Zilla
means well, Paulibus.''
"Yes. Up here, I figure out all sorts of plans to keep her
amused. I kind of feel life is going to be different, now that
we're getting a good rest and can go back and start over
again.''
"I hope so, old boy.'' Shyly: "Say, gosh, it's been awful
nice to sit around and loaf and gamble and act regular, with
you along, you old horse-thief!''
"Well, you know what it means to me, Georgie. Saved my
life.''
The shame of emotion overpowered them; they cursed a
little, to prove they were good rough fellows; and in a mellow
silence, Babbitt whistling while Paul hummed, they paddled
back to the hotel.