The morning air was sweet with all manner of herbage yet fresh from the
morning dew. The trees were in their most brilliant green, and every
leaf seemed newly washed.
Graham began a boating song, and Miss Schuyler joined in the chorus. Old
Joe chuckled and grinned; even quiet Lisa hummed a little as the song
rose louder; and Phil, dipping his hands in the clear water, imagined
that the fishes were frisking a waltz in their honor. They glided past
Point of Rocks, past huge beds of water-lilies, past lovely little coves
and inlets, and spots where Graham said there was excellent fishing;
finally Eagle Island became more distinct, and its pine-trees began to
look imposing.
"Here we are!" said Graham at last, bringing the _Flyaway_ up nicely on
a pebbly beach, in good boating style.
Graham and Joe made a chair with their hands and arms, and so carried
Phil very comfortably to the place under the trees which Miss Rachel had
chosen for their encampment.
"Now," said Miss Rachel, as she brought out Phil's portfolio, a book,
her own embroidery, and Lisa's sewing, "I propose that Graham, being a
more active member of society than we are, go off with Joe and catch
some fish for our dinner."
"Just the thing!" said Graham; "but I did not bring a line."
"Joe has everything necessary--bait and all," said Miss Schuyler.
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