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The Syndicate 
 
 1916 
 
 PERCY COLEMAN FIELD 
 
The Syndicate 
 
 1916 
 
 PERCY COLEMAN FIELD 
 
^ 
 
 
 JOHN 21-3 
 
 "Simon Peter saith unto them, I go a fishing. 
 They say unto him, we also come with thee." 
 
 JUL 24 1917 
 
 ©CIA470396 
 
 Copyright, 1916, by Percy Coleman Field 
 All rights reserved 
 
THE SYNDICATE 
 
 1916 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 In the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred 
 and sixteen the Syndicate, by unanimous vote, decided 
 to take an outing in the northern part of Minnesota, in 
 what is commonly known as the "wonderful Leech Lake 
 country." 
 
 The Syndicate! What is that? In this instance, it is 
 a number of good fellows who have banded themselves 
 together for the purpose of enjoying the vacation of 
 1916. 
 
 Now that the happy hours have passed and we are 
 back in our native land, I shall endeavor to recall the 
 various members as they appeared; the things they did 
 and said; their inner life, as exposed in travel and 
 about the camp. In doing so, it will be my pleasure to 
 reveal a great number of the many idiosyncrasies, char- 
 acteristics and philosophies which have tended to make 
 their lives worth while. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Of course, with our party there must be a merry- 
 faced man. He is a little over six feet in height; yet, 
 by reason of his good nature and corpulency, he does 
 not have the appearance of being exceedingly tall. He 
 is one of the big boys of this world both of mind and 
 body. His inner soul might be romantic, yet he is so 
 brimful of reality that his friends have little or no 
 
4 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 time to enjoy his romance. Like a great many other 
 merry-faced men, he has large blue eyes from which 
 radiate joy; and, of course, they are subject to all sorts 
 of winks, blinks and rolls, such as the joke he is just 
 playing, or is about to play, demands. He possesses a 
 very pleasant face indeed, such as you will find on the 
 body of a man of his stature. It is clean-shaven, ex- 
 cepting for a princely mustache he raised for the occa- 
 sion of this vacation; and this, together with a beard, 
 he also raised and cut — according to the old German 
 style — might have raised a doubt as to his nationality; 
 yet, when you come to know him, as I have, and do, 
 you will find him an American through and through. 
 
 From my association with him, he is fond of bright 
 colors. I find him on the bank of ,Kabekona bay (a 
 tributary of Leech Lake) in a style most becoming to 
 the taste of one of the southern portion of Italy. 
 
 In my memory, I shall always see him as he ap- 
 peared there. A very large western hat is resting upon 
 his head, pushed well back, revealing a large portion 
 of the top of his head, which looks as if it might have 
 been the battle-ground of two common warriors: brain 
 versus hair; and, while the generals of hair have been 
 persistent, and for many years seem to have had the 
 better of the contest, yet, now, owing to the fact that 
 my dear friend has allied himself with the commanders 
 of hair, he shaved the major portion of the top of his 
 head, and thus, he appeared like the majority of our 
 party, slightly bald. Yet he does love bright colors, 
 for around his neck he wore a big red bandana hand- 
 kerchief, which blended very harmoniously with the 
 color of his head, cheeks and arms, after he had spent 
 his first day on the water and was a sun-kissed beauty. 
 Around his waist he wore, much to his pleasure and 
 
THE SYNDICATE 5 
 
 comfort, and, slightly, shall I say, to the discomfort of 
 a certain member of his family, a large Scotch plaid 
 vest. The vest had the appearance of being one of his 
 true loves. He wore it upon all occasions, and to look 
 at it, a casual observer could readily see that it had 
 been worn upon equally as many more. 
 
 This particular friend of mine was a doer. He was 
 quiet about doing everything excepting sleeping. When 
 he was doing that — oh, well, with the joy and delight 
 that sleep i brings to a little child, he could turn the 
 veritable wilderness of the banks of Kabekona Bay into 
 a sawmill center. You could hear the buzz, buzz, buzz 
 of the saws; the popping of the engine, and every now 
 and then you could hear the saw strike a knot; then 
 you could hear the big logs roll, the engine hiss and 
 groan; the foreman giving orders; yet, with all, he 
 would enjoy a refreshing night's sleep and be up and 
 doing long before the rest of the crowd were through 
 talking about the duties they were to perform. 
 
 And such is a small portion of the character of my 
 friend, Remus F. Atwood, Commercial Agent of the 
 Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railway Company. 
 
 For his happy smiles and harmless pranks, pure logic 
 and good reason, I shall always enjoy my association 
 with him at Leech Lake. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 There is another member of the Syndicate, which the 
 Syndicate could by no means and under no conditions or 
 circumstances spare. He is a chief mechanic, chief 
 fixer, chief everything. If there was water in the gaso- 
 
6 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 line, he was to blame for it. If a "do-dad," as one 
 very distinguished member of the Syndicate was bound 
 to call everything not particularly mentioned in an in- 
 surance policy, wouldn't work, he was the one to fix it. 
 He was always ready and willing, never tiring, would 
 not shirk, always ready to do anything or everything. 
 
 He was considerably older than any other member of 
 the Syndicate at four a. m. and eleven or twelve p. m. He 
 liked his sleep, and with all he possessed a virtue which 
 was absolutely foreign to all other members of the Syn- 
 dicate. He was a quiet sleeper; or, at any rate, I never 
 did hear him after he tucked himself into his blankets. 
 Possibly this might be accounted for by reason of the 
 fact that there were so many noisy fellows in and 
 about the camp. When morning came to him, and it 
 seemed always to be coming to him, he was one of the 
 early birds, fixing this, fixing that, putting the proper 
 amount of oil into the gasoline and preparing the 
 motors for the trip of the day. He always had a good 
 appetite, like the rest of the Syndicate. He was one 
 of the boys, always ready to seine for minnows early 
 in the morning; was ready and willing to drag the net 
 through the cold water, when the frost w*as on the 
 ground; always on hand for everything, and had plenty 
 of time to look after the wants of everybody. 
 
 When I think of his willingness — and God bless and 
 reward him for it; some may, yet I fear too many will 
 not — I can't help but feel that he is going to be a very 
 busy man. 
 
 He doesn't look much like his father in size, yet 
 when it comes to being a good fellow he is a chip of the 
 old block, and the old block can be well proud of him. 
 
 This member of the Syndicate is Mr. Dan Atwood. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 There are two other distinguished members of the 
 Syndicate. One is plump, yet not too fat; the other is 
 thin, yet not what you would call skinny; one has a 
 fine suit of hair on the top of his head, while the other 
 would have equally as much on his face, would he per- 
 mit it to grow there. In common, they both have blue 
 eyes; and in this way they resemble each other, while 
 in most other things and undertakings they are differ- 
 ent, yet their inner souls may interlock in many of the 
 finer conceptions. 
 
 One of these dear friends enjoys canoeing; the other 
 did at one time in his life, but owing to the trials and 
 tribulations of this cold world, and water as well, 
 doesn't care so much for it as he used to in days gone 
 by. One likes to explore the lake, while the other 
 would rather fish in it; one enjoys telling a good story, 
 while the other delights in listening; and yet, with these 
 divergencies of character, God never put me in touch 
 with two such pleasant individuals as the "Two Petti- 
 bones": to know one of them is to enjoy the hidden 
 characteristics of the other. Each of the two are well 
 educated. They have read all sorts of books and know 
 something interesting about everything. 
 
 One of them enjoys cooking and is an old master in 
 the culinary art; and under his instruction, a bronze 
 looking fellow — who has by the humanity of the balance 
 of the crowd been permitted to become a member of the 
 Syndicate — has gained some distinction, while the other, 
 Mr. Ira Pettibone, would rather chop wood. 
 
 The chief chef, Mr. Charles I. Pettibone, usually cov- 
 ered his very bald head with a soft hat. He dressed 
 himself very dudishly in khaki clothes at camp. He 
 
8 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 wore, among other things, a khaki coat, a khaki vest, a 
 woolen shirt, a blue tie and khaki trousers. 
 
 Mr. Ira Pettibone at camp wore clothing of a sort 
 that sounded very much like khaki but spelled differ- 
 ently. In fact, he was very much like a number of 
 other prominent members in dress: might have been 
 taken at first blush in and about Leech Lake for anyone 
 excepting himself. 
 
 Such is a small glimpse of my two friends, Mr. 
 Charles I. Pettibone and Mr. Ira Pettibone. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 There is another young man of our party. He is a 
 proud father of three boys, who have grown to be 
 young men. He is as young as our other good friend, 
 Doctor Leonard. In fact, they were, and are, boys to- 
 gether. To know him is to like him, and to like him is 
 to form a desire to become better acquainted with him; 
 and when one does become acquainted with him, you 
 can't help but feel good, and very good, too, over know- 
 ing him. He is a sturdy man, nearly six feet tall. He 
 has blue eyes and a very kind face. Upon his face you 
 see a cunning smile, and a sharp twinkle flashes from a 
 pair of shrewd eyes. 
 
 He has become acquainted with everybody and 
 through his frankness always slips into the inner cham- 
 ber of their graces or vices. He, too, like his young 
 friend, Doctor Leonard, possesses a heap of charity for 
 the weakness of others, and is always willing to reason 
 a fellow into the better way of living, rather than to 
 push him down. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 9 
 
 He is a Baptist through and through. From my ac- 
 quaintance with him, a good Baptist. He appeared to 
 me to have a far better command over his religion than 
 many good Baptists, in that his religion tends to make 
 you like him better for it and to make his associates 
 happier. 
 
 He is engaged in the railroad business, and when the 
 railroad business demanded his attention I am quite of 
 the notion that a good many of the sharp horse traders 
 gave a sigh of relief, for I am sure that his cunning 
 eye could always detect a spavin or a ringbone. 
 
 At Kabekona he was by trade, or profession, a wood- 
 chopper. He kept the wood box full of nice dry wood, 
 and did a multitude of other things which made life easy 
 and comfortable for the older members of the Syndi- 
 cate. 
 
 He has maintained that he was in the possession of 
 a cake of shaving soap when he first arrived at camp, 
 and has since contended that he has been divested of it 
 by strategy or otherwise; and he has filed suit for 
 everything but the possession of said soap, or its value, 
 before one of the Supreme Courts of Bunkum, wherein 
 each members of the Syndicate sits as a justice. I sus- 
 pect, through his cunning, he intends to win his case, 
 yet the shaving soap at our camp, I am afraid, is much 
 like time and tide: it waits for no man. 
 
 Another characteristic is that he is thoughtful of 
 everything and everybody. Yes, many of us feel very 
 thankful indeed to him for his thoughtfulness in bring- 
 ing the shaving soap. Were it not for his thoughtful- 
 ness, in this regard, the faces of those in and about the 
 camp would have been a veritable brush pile. 
 
 So, with these few remarks, I have the pleasure of in- 
 troducing to my friends Mr. DeWitt Clinton Stephenson, 
 hereinafter known as Clint. 
 
10 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 When I recall our vacation I cannot help but think 
 of another very — yes, very distinguished member of the 
 Syndicate. He has lived in Kansas City for a long 
 time. He was connected with the Chicago, Rock Island 
 & Pacific Railway Company for twenty-five years. He 
 was its General Agent. The railroad company, how- 
 ever, did not appreciate his talent to its fullest extent 
 and at the expiration of this period of faithful service 
 he started in the insurance business for himself. He 
 has made a great success both in business and in life, 
 and is now General Agent of the President Life & Trust 
 Company. This is his minor consideration; his major 
 undertaking is that of a proud father. He is the pos- 
 sessor of a dear wife, to him the dearest of all heavenly 
 charms; for whom he would brave the rough waves of 
 the lake, go through thick or thin; and even while on 
 our trip would venture at night to travel from camp to 
 Walker for a letter from his "honey." I mention this 
 little characteristic of my friends as it portrays his 
 whole life. He is sincere. Yes, sincere in everything. 
 And, of course, we love him for his sincerity, and his 
 many, many other virtues. He is one of the big, strong 
 men, always willing to do more than his share of the 
 hard work; never admits he is tired; up early and goes 
 to bed late. God seems to have given him so many vir- 
 tues that possibly some of his hearing has, in this way, 
 been crowded out. I mention this to explain some of 
 the things which happen. 
 
 This particular friend, being a strong character, 
 wears a strong face and sometimes a stern look; yet he 
 is so full of love for his fellowman that his sternness 
 is always forgotten by his pleasant smile and good en- 
 
THE SYNDICATE 11 
 
 deavors. He weighs something; over two hundred 
 pounds. He is nearly six feet tall. His hair is very- 
 thin on the top of his head, while his beard is very- 
 heavy. He has a strong chin, a determined mouth, a 
 continental nose, grayish blue eyes, which look into the 
 very depths of your soul. 
 
 In his business life his clothing is in harmony with 
 his taste. While at Kabekona he wore a costume very 
 similar to that of my friend Ira; yet the cut of his 
 trousers was slightly different, in that he had cut 
 away from the bottom of the legs all of the surplus 
 cloth. Thus from a distance he appeared as one in 
 gaiters: a veritable Mr. Pickwick of the party. Indeed, 
 he had a way of wearing a pair of glasses on the end 
 of his nose and looking over the top of them which 
 very closely resembled our eminent friend; and then so 
 many things happened to him, as a result of his honest 
 endeavor, that possibly it will be pleasant to so consider 
 my friend, Mr. Frederick W. Segur. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 There is another very prominent member of the Syn- 
 dicate. In his character you will find all of the cardinal 
 virtues, and the greatest of all: charity, charity for the 
 frailty of humanity. A greater portion of his life has 
 been spent for the good of his fellowman. To become 
 really acquainted with this rare jewel of humanity is a 
 particular privilege. I feel very thankful, indeed, for 
 the time I have been with him. 
 
 On our trip, and, as far as that is concerned, every- 
 where — let what come that would, and he will be the 
 same. 
 
12 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 He is one of the young men of our party. 
 
 His hair, what little time and trouble has spared him, 
 is white. For a while, at Kabekona, he wore a shaggy 
 mustache and then a certain member of the Syndicate 
 cut it. 
 
 This distinguished friend of mine delights in cooking. 
 Yes, in cooking everything, especially cakes; and when 
 I think of what a wonderful filler his cakes were at 
 breakfast I can't help but feel that the medical and 
 surgical professions have robbed us of one of the great- 
 est chefs. Yet, what care we for a chef when we are 
 sick? 
 
 He is known to the Syndicate as Doc. It is Doc this 
 and Doc that; Doc, drive the nail here to hold the dock; 
 Doc, here, please, for goodness sake, pull this fish bone 
 out of my throat; Doc, for a story; Doc, for phil- 
 osophy. In fact, and as a matter of fact, it is Doc for 
 everything, at all times and on all occasions; and the 
 best of it all is that he has time for everything and 
 everybody, and especially the ladies. In fact, one of 
 our party — I will not say which one because I mean 
 each one — coveted his standing with the ladies to such 
 an extent that I believe that the particular one, and I 
 mean each one, wanted to be known as Doc, so that he 
 would have free admission into the hearts of the fair 
 ones. Yet, when we come to think of it, that would be 
 of no avail, so we will have to consider his success due 
 to his personality. 
 
 Such is a portion of the personality and life of my 
 good friend, Doctor Homer O. Leonard. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 13 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 There is another individual who has been honored by- 
 being a member of the Syndicate. He is six feet tall. 
 He weighs over two hundred pounds. In the summer of 
 1916 he was of a very bronze complexion. He has blue 
 eyes. He is strong and active, capable of doing most 
 any kind of hard work, yet it has been a long time 
 since anyone has accused him of it. 
 
 He is a lawyer and enjoys that profession as a live- 
 lihood, and is now a member of the law firm of Williams, 
 Guffin & Field. 
 
 He lives on Sixtieth Street, in the Swope Park vicin- 
 ity of iKansas City, where he enjoys life to its fullest 
 extent. 
 
 He is the father of two darling girlies. 
 
 You will find a number of interesting things about 
 him at home: there is a lovely wife, a preacher's daugh- 
 ter, who delights in keeping a good home for him and 
 his family. In the spring time you will find him among 
 the roses, honeysuckles and sweet peas; and, as sum- 
 mer progresses, in his garden, where a number of his 
 friends enjoy going with him; while around his house 
 you will find a number of chickens and a yellow dog, 
 who possesses a family tree. 
 
 When he was a small boy destiny robbed him of his 
 father and mother, and thus he has been confronted 
 with an innumerable lot of experiences. He has a 
 varied education; has studied at many schools and has 
 graduated from, among other institutions, Yale Uni- 
 versity. 
 
 He enjoys associating with men, and especially prizes 
 the time he has spent with the Syndicate. 
 
14 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 At camp he wore an old pair of corduroy trousers, a 
 heavy pair of shoes or rubber boots, a woolen shirt, a 
 sweater and a hunting coat. 
 
 He enjoyed everything, even cooking for the whole 
 Syndicate. He apportioned the amount of food he 
 would cook by his own appetite, and thus the Syndicate 
 to a man was well fed. Besides being cook, he was a 
 sort of a general engineer of the big launch and spent 
 a considerable time wrestling with the motor. 
 
 While in the northland country he wore a Charlie 
 Chaplin mustache and a beard on the end of his chin. 
 
 Thus we have some of the peculiarities and character- 
 istics of Percy C. Field. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Friday, August the 11th, 1916, the sun shone very 
 brightly indeed. Everything was happy and gay with 
 the Syndicate notwithstanding the fact that we were 
 in the midst of a long hot, dry summer. It was the 
 11th day of August, the day set for the Syndicate to 
 travel to a new land, upon which the sun shines with 
 comfortable warmth and where the air is delightfully 
 cool; where, at nights, we could sleep under blankets 
 and enjoy the same cool restfulness as we experience at 
 home in the latter part of October or the first part of 
 November. 
 
 Percy Field arose at an early hour this morning. He 
 was awakened by a stream of sneezes. These 
 sneezes, while they announced the oncoming of what is 
 commonly called the hay fever, were of no consequence, 
 for it was only a little while until he, together with a 
 
THE SYNDICATE 15 
 
 number of others, would be fishing in the cold waters 
 of Leech Lake and its tributaries, where the sneeze 
 would be a thing of the past and he would be refreshed. 
 
 He anticipated this pleasure with such keenness that 
 long before the time for the Rock Island northbound 
 train to leave for St. Paul he had purchased his tickets 
 and made his reservations. He was thoroughly pre- 
 pared. His trunk was packed. First of all the fishing 
 tackle, poles and fishing boxes were placed in his 
 trunk; then his fishing clothes, his heavy blankets, 
 heavy underclothes, sweater, woolen shirts and all sorts 
 of winter wear, which seemed in the midst of the hot 
 month of August, at Kansas City, to be a comedy upon 
 nature itself. So by afternoon all was in readiness, as 
 far as Percy Field was concerned, and, I dare say, the 
 rest of the Syndicate, for he was, and they were, going 
 into God's great out-of-doors in the far, far away 
 Northland; to get close to nature itself; to live; to fish; 
 to enjoy the fresh air; to exercise; to swim; to fall into 
 the lake; to swim out; to dry his clothes on the old- 
 fashioned clothes line, the limb of a tree; to have a 
 genuine recreation and leave the world and all behind; 
 and, most of all, to associate with his friends; to be a 
 companion of men, who have lived near the standard 
 of what was intended as best for them, a rare oppor- 
 tunity and a treat for a young man. This was his 
 pleasure and such did the time and occasion promote 
 for each member of the Syndicate. 
 
 By nine o'clock p. m. the keen anticipation of Percy 
 Field for the trip prompted him so that he went down 
 and boarded the Rock Island train. The train was billed 
 to leave at eleven fifteen p. m. At nine the train was 
 on track, and as the berths were all made he tucked 
 himself in, and in a little while sneezed himself to sleep. 
 
 Near the approach of the midnight hour there was a 
 considerable commotion on the train. A number of 
 
16 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 sonorous voices were heard. A whole crowd of men had 
 taken charge of the sleeper. They were busy finding 
 their berths and quarters for the night. I was awak- 
 ened by their hearty laughter; yet. not being thor- 
 oughly aroused, I lay still and listened. 
 
 "Where is he?" demanded a pleasant voice. 
 
 "I am sure he is here somewhere/' answered another 
 familiar voice. 
 
 A general search followed; seven men were looking 
 for someone; and thus the porter came to their rescue, 
 as does a Pullman porter at all times and on all occa- 
 sions, while aboard a sleeper. 
 
 "Dare's a man in low' tin, dat's dun bin do'n a heap 
 of sneezing; is he da purson?" offered a round-headed, 
 black-faced man in a blue uniform and nickel-plated 
 buttons. 
 
 Upon the direction of the porter to lower ten my 
 friend Remus pulled back the curtains and exposed me 
 to the full view of all standing in the aisle, including 
 the Syndicate. I was delighted to see their happy faces 
 and to shake their hands. I explained to them my con- 
 dition and was permitted to lie a bed while they went 
 to the smoking car and talked. 
 
 I was told by Remus, the next day, that Mr. Segur 
 had kept guard over the balance of the crowd until the 
 late hours of the night and had also out-winded all 
 aboard in a little talkfest on the subject of life insur- 
 ance; that there was a black whiskered man from 
 Minneapolis, and also a newspaper reporter, who 
 seemed to hold their own with him for a while; that is, 
 until twelve thirty a. m., or later, at which time Remus 
 felt the call of old King Slumber and went to bed. 
 Remus said that they were chucked full of insurance — 
 didn't have time to tell any stories, but just kept on, pro 
 
THE SYNDICATE 17 
 
 and con, but mostly con, until a late hour — one of the 
 parties, and I will not have to mention his name, debated 
 the issue as to whether a millionaire could afford to 
 put one-third of his income into insurance, while the 
 other took the opposite side of the proposition. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Saturday morning, August 12th, 1916, came after a 
 restless night. I was awakened this morning, not from 
 a quiet and refreshing sleep, but from something in the 
 nature of a coma, which had come upon me from the 
 constant rumbling of the wheels, the putting on of the 
 brakes, and all of the kindred noises of a railway car 
 in motion. 
 
 There I lay in a shelf on the side of the car. The 
 night before, while no one was looking, I had slipped 
 off my clothing and plunged into bed. I was now ready 
 for another effort. There I lay, clothes here, there and 
 everywhere, and not a stitch of clothing which I was 
 just ready to put on. I could find my trousers and my coat, 
 but my underclothes seemed to have been left behind. 
 My stockings had disappeared, and likewise my shoes, 
 so just to be accommodating with the situation and my 
 personal comfort, I lay there and thought about it. 
 ■ Suddenly a large human foot plunged through the 
 curtain and was in the act of stepping unceremoniously 
 upon my stomach. 
 
 "Good morning," cried I, as I proceeded to arrange a 
 more satisfactory resting place for the foot of my 
 early caller, when suddenly the foot made a gesture as 
 if it desired to step out of the window. 
 
 "Is you in distress?" called a familiar voice, good- 
 naturedly. 
 
18 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Yes," I shouted. 
 
 "Well, suh, one at a time, gents — just put your han' 
 on my shoulders, dis foot on dis here round; dat's it." 
 And then my early caller reached in his pocket for some 
 token of real Pullman appreciation. 
 
 "Yes, suh; thank you, suh — them up'rs is suah an 
 abomination," said the porter, with an old-fashioned 
 laugh. 
 
 My curtains were pulled back, and there followed a 
 very bald head into my compartment, apologizing for 
 his intrusion, suggesting that he had a "narry" call. My 
 early morning caller then drew his head out and up, 
 when, of course, any ordinary fellow knows that the 
 proper way to take a head out of a lower berth is to 
 follow the same line of entree, at least — when suddenly 
 he struck the mahogany above and fell away. 
 
 Realizing my undressed condition and feeling the 
 pleasure a breakfast with the Syndicate would bring to 
 me, I proceeded to worm myself into some clothing. 
 Never before did I imagine to what an extent I could 
 twist and squirm. I was a contortionist. I managed to 
 fish my underwear out from a portion of the mattress 
 and by means of standing on the back of my head and 
 one foot slid into my trousers, first one leg and then 
 the other. I didn't have any particular trouble in get- 
 ting into my shirt, yet when it came to getting my 
 shirt into my trousers I was confronted with a more 
 serious difficulty. I had the biggest shirt imaginable, 
 but, being in the habit of wearing a large, roomy shirt, 
 proceeded to buckle my belt, thinking all was well. I 
 made a dash for the dressing room in bare feet, when 
 suddenly I was confronted with the reality that I was 
 picking up my bed as I went. I stopped short and un- 
 coupled myself from my unnatural caudal appendage. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 19 
 
 This was done to my satisfaction and chagrin. At that 
 time a very charming faced lady of possibly twenty- 
 five summers, in her natural color, as the hour for 
 paints and powders had not yet come, laughed outright, 
 and then turned her head the other way. In my em- 
 barrassment she did not think of the propriety of turn- 
 ing her head the other way before she had time to see 
 and to smile; yet, the train at that moment gave a 
 lurch which turned her head toward me, and with out- 
 stretched arms I was greeted. Of course, I said "Ex- 
 cuse me," and, of course, she begged to be excused; 
 and so did a large, heavy-set, middle-aged gentleman, 
 who had slept the night before across the aisle, beg to 
 be excused for butting into the charming lady; and the 
 charming lady, upon seeing a portion of his bald head 
 emerge from the partly drawn curtains of the berth, 
 for some unknown reason to me, of course, blushed 
 and hurried away. 
 
 I finally managed to get into the dressing room. I 
 was there for a shave. I found my shoes and stockings, 
 after finding everybody else's shoes and stockings, and 
 succeeded in putting my feet into my own shoes, while 
 another guest and a swish of the train proceeded to 
 give me a shower bath and prepare me for my tonsorial 
 effort. Being thus duly and truly prepared, I took out 
 my broadside razor and steadied myself upon my right 
 little toe and left heel, hung on to the rail and pro- 
 ceeded to draw the sharp edge of the knife over my 
 jugular vein. Upon finishing this operation with a free 
 heart and easy nerve I turned about to find a number 
 of the Syndicate and a few of the other passengers 
 holding their breath. 
 
 "For the Lord's sake," said somebody, "you will 
 never be nearer death." 
 
20 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 In the course of a great many efforts every member 
 was in the pink of condition, awaiting further orders 
 and announcements. 
 
 "Fust call for breakfes'!" came out of a very burr- 
 headed individual, melodiously inviting everybody to the 
 dining car. 
 
 The Syndicate to a man sprang to their feet. They 
 rushed to the dining car. At the entrance of the diner 
 a barrier was found. The iron gate had been raised. 
 There stood the Syndicate in the front rank. We could 
 smell the pleasant aroma of the coffee and the frying 
 ham. Breakfast appeared to be ready. The Syndicate 
 was ready for breakfast, but there was the gate barring 
 the way. There was one very tanned individual, who, 
 by virtue of wiping his nose most of the night before, 
 was now the proud possessor of a very red nose; he 
 stood for some moments and contemplated. He was 
 athletic enough to have vaulted the gate. Upon care- 
 ful investigation he found the key in the lock. The 
 gate was then opened and in rushed the Syndicate. All 
 of whom were comfortably accommodated. 
 
 A good breakfast was served at an extremely reason- 
 able price from the viewpoint of the railway company. 
 Yet, what cared we for the price. It, like our time, had 
 been set apart and both had to be spent, so the one was 
 given as cheerfully as the other. 
 
 As the train was very late into St. Paul, we had to 
 await our time with patience; and while thus engaged 
 Doc grew philosophical, tempering his philosophy with 
 a few verses. 
 
 "Boys," said Doc, as he drew himself close to the 
 Syndicate, "how wonderful is it to be friends and com- 
 panions of God. Let us consider that just a minute: it 
 is what we seek here in this world. You want the best 
 
THE SYNDICATE 21 
 
 you can get from all — from the professional man; from 
 the man in business — the best, and very best he has. 
 The question is what do you want with this fellow, or 
 that fellow? You want the best he has; so, when you 
 become a friend of this fellow, you likewise demand and 
 take away, and give a part, of the best there is in 
 you." 
 
 "Yes," suggested Percy Field, "we are a part of all 
 we meet — so may my friends be good, that I may have 
 the greater opportunity." 
 
 "That's a part of the point," said Doc, as he appeared 
 to reason deeper, while our friend Remus drew up 
 closer and looked considerably as if he was going to 
 say something. 
 
 "Now, why in the world can't we get acquainted with 
 God in just such a way? In just such a way, who is it 
 who has not been acquainted with their own mother, 
 father, and although now that possibly the mother, 
 father or friend, or companion, may be dead, why 
 should we not still be able to live on in spirit with them 
 — do you understand my proposition?" 
 
 "I don't know whether I understand your proposi- 
 tion, Doc, or not," put in our friend Remus, "but it ap- 
 pears to me that when a fellow is dead — and I don't 
 want to be living with anybody and be dead — I want 
 to be with people when thoroughly alive; and when I 
 am gone I would prefer to be remembered as I was 
 when alive. While here, I consider it my duty to play 
 the game, and play it for all it is worth; and when I'm 
 dead — oh, well, I'm dead, so what's the use." 
 
 "Well," says Doc, "I fear you do not understand 
 me." And I fear I did not — and then the train rocked 
 on, a cool draft blew into the window, and Doctor 
 Leonard grew poetical, and gave the following reading: 
 
22 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "It Isn't Costly." 
 
 "Does the grouch get richer quicker than the friendly 
 
 sort of man? 
 Can the grumbler labor better than the cheerful fellow 
 
 can? 
 Is the mean churlish neighbor any cleverer than the one 
 Who shouts a glad "good morning," and then smiling 
 
 Just stop and think about it. Have you ever known or 
 
 seen 
 A mean man who succeeded, just because he was so 
 
 mean? 
 When you find a grouch with honors and with money in 
 
 his pouch 
 You can bet he didn't win them just because he was a 
 
 grouch. 
 
 Oh, you'll not be any poorer if you smile along your 
 
 way 
 And your lot will not be harder for the kindly things 
 
 you say. 
 Don't imagine you are wasting time for others that you 
 
 spend. 
 You can rise to wealth and glory and still pause to be a 
 
 friend." 
 
 "How do you like that, fellows?" inquired Doctor 
 Leonard, with a smile. 
 
 "Well, my dear boys, I am not particularly a fiend 
 about poetry, yet when I find something that expresses 
 the idea exactly I don't mind using the words of an 
 artist to convey my meaning. I have been thinking 
 considerably about the brotherhood of man; and, as 
 
 
THE SYNDICATE 23 
 
 you have enjoyed the lines I have just read, let me 
 read you another," urged the doctor as he cleared his 
 throat. 
 
 "What Did You Do?" 
 
 "Did you give him a lift? He's a brother of man, 
 And bearing about all the burden he can. 
 Did you give him a smile? He was downcast and blue, 
 And the smile would have helped him to battle it 
 
 through. 
 Did you give him your hand ? He was slipping downhill 
 And the world, so I fancied, was using him ill. 
 Did you give him a word ? Did you show him the road ? 
 Or did you just let him go on with his load ? 
 Did you help him along ? He's a sinner like you, 
 But the grasp of your hand might have carried him 
 
 through. 
 Did you bid him good cheer? Just a word and a smile 
 Were what he most needed, the last weary mile. 
 Do you know what he bore in that burden of cares 
 That is every man's load and that sympathy shares? 
 Did you try to find out what he needed from you? 
 Or did you just leave it to him to battle it through ? 
 Do you know what it means to be losing the fight 
 When a lift just in time might set everything right ? 
 Do you know what it means — just a clasp of your hand 
 When a man's borne about all a man ought to stand ? 
 Did you ask what it was? Why the quivering lip, 
 Or the glistening tears down the pale cheek slip? 
 Were you brother of his when the time came to be? 
 Did you offer to help him, or didn't you see ? 
 Don't you know it's the part of a brother of man 
 To find what the grief is and help when you can? 
 Did you stop when he asked you to give him a lift, 
 
24 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 Or were you so busy you left him shift? 
 
 Oh, I know what you say may be true, 
 
 But the test of your manhood is, what did you do ? 
 
 Did you reach out a hand ? Did you find him the road ? 
 
 Or did you just let him go by with his load?" 
 
 This seemed to strike in the hearts of the Syndicate. 
 
 "'Did you reach out a hand? Did you find him the 
 road? Or did you just let him go by with his load?" 
 asked the doctor, expressing the sympathy of his very 
 soul. 
 
 This reading met with the entire approval of the Syn- 
 dicate, and increased and aroused the poetical interest 
 to such an extent that Mr. Fred Segur suggested that 
 we had a poet in our very midst, and urged that one 
 Percy Field read, for the Syndicate, the rhythm story 
 of the life of a lawyer. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Percy, come on with the poem," suggested 
 Remus. 
 
 "Well," said Percy, "I do not recall at present the 
 story of the lawyer, but, feeling that we are all inter- 
 ested in children, all of us having loved ones, who ap- 
 pear before our fancies as fairies of our keener appre- 
 ciation, I will read you a poem, fresh from the pen, and 
 maybe its youthful chime may bring refreshing sweet- 
 ness to you in your thoughts of the dear children, who 
 have, at times, gathered around your knees. Of course, 
 you all know my little fairy, Percett. Her mother 
 named the little girlie, nearly seven years ago, Mar- 
 garet, but from the very beginning she has always uved 
 with me in the inner chamber of my soul, so I hav« 
 called her Percett, and thus the reading I am about to 
 give is entitled "My Fairy Percett." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 25 
 
 Here Mr. Segur drew near and put his hand back of 
 his ear. Doctor Leonard and Mr. Atwood pulled their 
 chairs up close, while Percy meditated and then began: 
 
 "While in my office chair I was sitting, 
 With such dignity as my state befitting, 
 Unconsciously, to sleep I did fall — 
 A fairy visited me, that's all. 
 
 And as she stood before me with her childish look 
 She asked me to read from a little dream book. 
 I read, and when I finished her fairy yarn, 
 She nestled close, placed her head upon my arm. 
 
 (Then she put both her arms 'bout my neck — 
 Sh — don't tell mother, I lov'd her 'bout a peck.) 
 
 She placed her lips close to my ear, 
 
 Then I heard someone calling me dear; 
 
 She whisper'd a pretty secret, so none but I could 
 
 hear — 
 Then the fairy kiss'd me and I whisper'd in her ear. 
 
 (Her eyes were blue, her love was true: 
 She was a fairy, thru and thru.) 
 
 'Little fairy,' I said — 
 
 She smiled and hid her head, 
 
 And looked at me with her eyes of blue, 
 
 Yet, I said, 'My dearie, who are you?' 
 
 And she said: do not worry or fret — 
 I come with a message from Percett. 
 'Percett,' says she, 'loves daddy very much!' 
 Then I drew her so close our lips did touch. 
 
26 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 The pretty little fairy then hurried away, 
 To whisper to another in just such a way. 
 
 There my dear little dream ended, 
 And when I my dignity had mended, 
 Decided to watch, and to hope, and pray, 
 That the fairy might again come my way.' 
 
 "A very sweet poem," was the comment of the Syn- 
 dicate, while Mr. S'egur added: "God bless the little 
 dearies; how we love them." And then we finished our 
 cigars. 
 
 From the smoking apartment we went to the observa- 
 tion end of the car. There we saw the rich farming 
 lands of the Northwest. There were endless wheat 
 fields, which appeared to be an ocean of golden, yellow 
 grain. As we approached St. Paul we saw the great 
 elevators, the mills, the Mississippi River in all of its 
 grandeur. The weather, however, grew very cold, so it 
 was hard to shiver and to appreciate the beauty of the 
 surrounding. Doctor Leonard disposed of the cold 
 weather very nicely by meeting a lady in the coach' 
 ahead. When he returned to the Syndicate he met the 
 penetrating gaze of both Mr. Atwood and Mr. Segur, 
 who proceeded to look both at and through him. 
 
 "Now, Doc," says Remus, with a twinkle of his wink- 
 able eye, "have you forgotten the agreement?" 
 
 "What agreement?" answered the Doctor, with a 
 smile which gave some evidence that he had been think- 
 ing some about it all of the time. 
 
 "That I was to be known as Doctor, and you as mere- 
 ly Mister — " and then Doc smiled and so did Remus. 
 Doc wanted to know what of it, and what was to be 
 done about it. He thought little of his conduct as oeing 
 
THE SYNDICATE 27 
 
 among the ladies seemed now to be a portion of his 
 life. The affair, however, faded into the smiles of 
 the various parties and no charges were preferred. 
 
 So in the course of the rocking and swaying we made 
 ourselves ready for St. Paul, and in the meantime Doc 
 and the balance of the Syndicate made a bet as to the 
 time we would reach St. Paul. It was merely one of 
 these "I'll bet you" bets— as we reached St. Paul at an 
 hour of compromise, and being so glad to get off there, 
 we all forgot about the bet and went our way rejoicing. 
 
 By this time it had grown so cold that an overcoat 
 and winter wear would have been appropriate. I wore 
 my Palm Beach clothes, with the appearance of the last 
 rose of summer. I had plenty of winter wear with me, 
 yet I didn't feel disposed to change before night. I was 
 very cold in St. Paul. Think of it. Cold in St. Paul, 
 and the day before simply burning up in Kansas City. 
 Oh, what a difference a few hundred miles make. 
 
 At St. Paul, we first made our reservations on the 
 night train for Walker. We procured three lowers and 
 three uppers. Mr. Atwood drew an upper and Doc 
 Leonard a lower. Doc wanted to show the Syndicate 
 that he was as young as ever, so, when the time came, 
 he slipped away from Remus and went to bed in the 
 upper berth. 
 
 Shortly after getting on the train, notwithstanding 
 the fact that the heat was on, it grew so cold that I had 
 to put on my winter clothes. I made the change in the 
 smoking car. After changing my clothes Mr. Remus 
 came in and handed me a cigar, suggesting that it would 
 do me a lot of good, besides helping me. 
 
 In a little while Mr. Segur and Doc came into the 
 smoking car. Of course, we were talking of the fishing 
 and various fish stories were offered. 
 
28 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Well," said Doc, as he smiled and looked at me, 
 and then glanced around at first one member of the 
 Syndicate and then the other, "there was a peculiar 
 thing which happened while Fred, Clint and I were fish- 
 ing up in this country several years ago. Fred was 
 rowing the boat. I was fishing over one side of the 
 boat when, whoopee, I got a dandy strike. Away went 
 my line, and then I was reeling it in. The fish was 
 darting first one way, then the other. Of course, at 
 that time it was the rule, when one fellow got a strike, 
 the others fishing in the boat would take up their lines, 
 so as to give the one with a strike a fair chance. Clint 
 and I were standing up in the boat. The fish had a 
 firm hold on my hook and rushed first this way and 
 that way. Finally I reeled him up close to the boat, 
 and then away again he darted, and then back again, 
 and under the boat he went — well," proceeded Doc, 
 with a smile, "I thought that I had lost my fish, when 
 all at once I found the fish lying in the boat just a 
 flopping and a jumping, he having dived clear under 
 the boat, and the momentum of his dart and the pull of 
 the line having thrown him into the boat. So even in 
 that extremity we had fish for dinner." 
 
 "Doc," said Mr. Remus, as he rolled his eyes about, 
 and placed his hands in a prayerful position, "do you 
 expect us to believe that?" 
 
 "Yes," says Doc, "just as tru.e as if I am sitting 
 here." 
 
 "Well," said Remus, as he appeared to be looking 
 into the dim and distant future. 
 
 "Yes," says Fred, "that's true, but don't you remem- 
 ber what Mr. Grover Cleveland said about the word of 
 a fisherman?" 
 
THE SYNDICATE 29 
 
 "Well, he said 'that one fisherman should never doubt 
 the word of another fisherman/ they being bound to- 
 gether by the same common tie." 
 
 "Oh, no," said Remus, "far be it from doubting 
 Doc's word, yet Percy and I are going fishing together, 
 and maybe with his keen imagination and my ingenuity 
 we might catch a fish in an interesting fashion. Just 
 give us a chance — that's all we ask — of course, we be- 
 lieve you." Remus then placed his hands as if to pray, 
 looked upward, and after rolling his eyes about, took a 
 couple of puffs at his cigar. As the smoke arose to 
 the ceiling he suggested that the fish just jumped into 
 the boat. 
 
 "Why, that's nothing," said Doc, and Remus seeing 
 another fish story on its way, looked more prayerful 
 than before, and Doc proceeded: 
 
 "Now, this was told me by the biggest liar about 
 Leech Lake. I have often heard him tell a number of 
 good fish stories, and as Fred says, one fisherman 
 should never doubt the word of another — this particu- 
 lar fisherman said that he was fishing down about 
 Shingobee — he and a friend. They fished for about an 
 hour and caught so many fish that they had to go to 
 the short to unload for fear they would sink their boat. 
 He said that when he got to shore and was taking care 
 of the fish they backed a wagon up to the dock and 
 that they filled the bed of the wagon. Then, as the 
 wagon started off to the depot, the end gate came out 
 
 and all the fish slipped out into the lake, so 
 
 that's his name, I believe — says, 'Just wait a minute or 
 so and we will catch 'em all back,' so out he throws his 
 line, and in the course of a half hour had all the very 
 fish back — filled the wagon and went on about their 
 business." 
 
30 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "And the second catch was right off the dock?" 
 
 "That's what I was told," vow'd Doc, "and so it must 
 have been." 
 
 The rumble of the train brought sleep to Mr. Fred 
 Segur, and he, having fallen to sleep several times, and, 
 naving almost fallen out of his chair as many, caused 
 the suggestion that we were to be pulled out of our nice 
 warm berths at three a. m., so we went to bed. 
 
 In the meantime the berths had all been made. I 
 vowed that I had lower ten — the porter and all aboard 
 vowed that I had lower three — so thinking that I would 
 find my baggage in lower ten proceeded to look and see, 
 and there I found someone who suggested that he had 
 bought and paid for lower ten, and that he defied any- 
 one — and his argument sounded so much like the point 
 of death that I took the the porter's word for it and 
 climbed into lower three. Never before did the lights 
 go out with such comfort as they did that night. I 
 was tired — and sleepy — and if someone didn't turn the 
 hands of time up three hours I shall always think they 
 did, for I remember going to bed and then it was all up 
 for Walker. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 "All off for Walker!" was the cry of the trainmen 
 at the early hour. 
 
 Each member of the Syndicate proceeded to count 
 the heads of the Syndicate out loud, some of the mem- 
 bers louder than the others, all forgetting that there 
 were a number of others on board who had spent their 
 money for a full night's sleep, and not the inquiry of 
 
THE SYNDICATE 31 
 
 whether Percy, Dan, Remus or any other member of 
 the Syndicate were up and ready to get off. 
 
 We arrived at Walker at approximately three o'clock. 
 We came, and then morning followed us into town. 
 It appeared from the action of a number of the Syn- 
 dicate — I will not mention any names for fear of call- 
 ing particular attention to the various members of the 
 Syndicate — that someone had placed a duty upon the 
 Syndicate to awaken the sun. On this particular morn- 
 ing the whole Syndicate were several hours ahead of 
 the sun and everybody else. 
 
 The crew of the train upon which we had entered 
 Walker had placed our baggage on an outside truck, and 
 puffed away, leaving us alone. Walker was thoroughly 
 asleep, yet somebody was in town — and who that some- 
 body was, well, Mr. Walker, the people of Walker, the 
 dock man, the boat man, station agent, and all, didn't 
 seem to appear disturbed, for on they slept, notwith- 
 standing the fact, however, that they had been duly 
 notified of our arrival and the time thereof. 
 
 There was one member — and I will not mention his 
 name, either, for in this act or suggestion of sensibility 
 he may be coveted — suggested that we go to the hotel 
 and get beds for fifty cents apiece and finish out the rest 
 of the night, as it was his belief that we wouldn't be 
 able to get ham and eggs before eight o'clock in the 
 morning. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness, no!" shouted Fred. "Let us slip 
 into our rough clothes, move our baggage to the dock, 
 and when that is done we can then have breakfast, and 
 then our boats will be ready and then we'll have an 
 early start." 
 
 "All right," said everybody. Somebody again sug- 
 gested that he didn't believe the boatman would think 
 
32 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 us foolish enough to keep our appointed date, and that 
 our early start would be about ten o'clock, yet all the 
 Syndicate to a man slipped around behind the truck, 
 found his trunk, fished out his heavy clothing, and in 
 a few minutes all the baggage was on the dock — but 
 the boatman, where was the boatman? Where was 
 the captain? Well, when I think of his cherry face — 
 and while he was a captain, and very fond of water, 
 the color of his nose didn't so indicate — and consider his 
 habits to be like another member of our party, who en- 
 joyed sleep, I can well imagine what the captain was 
 doing at three thirty a. m. — so back to the depot we 
 went. 
 
 There was the same old depot — cold, barren of all 
 earthly joys. It was the cold gray dawn of the morn- 
 ing. When I say cold, I mean it. The trunks, which 
 were far from light, had been carried to the dock, on 
 an empty stomach. I am sincere when I say an empty 
 stomach is a very poor truck. There we stood, accli- 
 mated to a hundred in the shade, hungry, awaiting the 
 time, and now with a considerable impatience, when 
 we might coax the boy in the restaurant to build a 
 fire in his stove and serve us with something. 
 
 In the meantime Remus decided that his motor must 
 have been shipped over the other railroad, which had a 
 station about a mile from town on a full stomach, and 
 ten miles on an empty one, so down to the station we 
 tramped, and found the said station securely locked and 
 bolted, with the shades drawn — bearing much the re- 
 semblance of a deserted house. Back we went to town, 
 but not civilization, as we don't generally have civiliza- 
 tion until a more civil hour. 
 
 After we reached Walker again we saw the sun 
 a-peeping up on the east horizon. A beautiful sunrise — 
 
THE SYNDICATE 33 
 
 but as far as the beauty of that sunrise is concerned, 
 there is no living individual of Northern nativity in 
 and about Walker who saw or appreciated the sunrise 
 that morning. This pleasure was for the Syndicate 
 alone. On the truck on the depot platform we sat and 
 enjoyed the dawn of the morning, while Fred sug- 
 gested that he couldn't understand why it was that the 
 boatman was not up to meet us, as: he had given 
 e-x-p-1-i-c-i-t orders of the day and date of our arrival. 
 
 The sun grew higher and higher, yet no one stirred 
 in Walker, except the Syndicate. Finally by seven thirty, 
 or a quarter to eight, there was a stir about the restau- 
 rant across the tracks. The Syndicate went over and 
 proceeded to order as was customary with them in Mis- 
 souri, but breakfast was not ready, and they could 
 order, and order, and reorder, but there was a time for 
 everything, and it was not as yet breakfast time in 
 Walker. 
 
 We put in our order, however, and in the course of 
 an hour were served a very inferior breakfast. Yet 
 we did appreciate it and went our way rejoicing. 
 
 After standing around for another hour or so an 
 important looking individual arrived at the dock. In a 
 little while we discovered that he was in charge and 
 the man with whom Fred had communicated. 
 
 "Well," says Mr. Segur, looking quite firm, "didn't 
 you get my letters?" 
 
 Mr. Billban, as that is what he was called, rubbed 
 his chin and intimated that he had received Fred's 
 letter, but frankly stated that while he had been in- 
 formed in the letters that the Syndicate would arrive 
 at the hour and date upon which we did arrive, that he 
 didn't expect us until the next day; that he had almost 
 rented our boats to somebody else, expecting us later; 
 
34 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 that he wasn't quite prepared for us, and had he ex- 
 pected us at the time we arrived everything would have 
 been ready, etc., etc., yet he didn't expect us so soon — 
 but be that as it may, he suggested that the boats could 
 be let to us today, just as well as the day he expected, 
 and that there was one of the boats, and here was an- 
 other — 
 
 "The supplies — groceries!" demanded Fred, looking 
 slightly vexed. 
 
 "Yes," says Mr. Billban, "we have them all ready — " 
 
 "Where are they?" again demanded Mr. Segur. 
 
 "Oh, yes," says Billban, "they are locked up in the 
 station," and then we woke up the station agent and 
 half of the town and lifted them down to the dock — 
 loaded our boats. 
 
 As we sailed out of the harbor, bound for Kabekona 
 Bay — in the words of the old colored man — "it sho' wuz 
 da middle ob da day." 
 
 The Syndicate was afloat in the cold and clear water 
 of Leech Lake. The sunshine of the middle of the day 
 felt very comforting, and it drove away the shivers of 
 the cold gray dawn. Fred was seated in the forepart 
 of a launch, drinking water out of the lake from a 
 cup and looking mighty satisfied with himself and the 
 world at large. 
 
 Of course, to our left, while headed toward our camp- 
 ing ground, lay the points and promontories of more 
 or less interest and beauty. Among them, first on the 
 left, traveling toward Kabekona, a point of land which 
 extends so far out into the lake that it most be- 
 comes an island. This point stands high and alone. It 
 is beautifully wooded. It is inhabited with what is 
 known in this northland country as summer people, who 
 live in a very comfortably looking log house, which 
 
THE SYNDICATE 35 
 
 faces the lake. As our boats passed on we came in 
 view of what is commonly called Glenary. This is a 
 summer place; and upon this point stands a summer 
 hotel, where a number of the summer people live who 
 come to look at the lake, and to occasionally fish in it. 
 As our boats passed on our view was taken with a 
 modernly developed summer place — Morris Point. This 
 is one of the many beautiful points of the lake. Mr. 
 Morris, of the packing company, is the owner, and has 
 spent a considerable money upon its improvement. He 
 generally keeps a light burning on this point at night 
 so that the travelers may know their whereabouts. 
 This point stands at a position about half way 
 to our camp on Kabekona Bay. We passed it and 
 upon inspection found everything to be just as we had 
 left it. 
 
 The railroad bridge of the Great Northern Railway 
 appeared before us. This bridge spans the inlet to 
 Kabekona Bay. It is hidden in a way by a promon- 
 tory of land which runs away out into the lake and 
 makes it necessary that a traveler from Walker go a 
 considerable distance further north and east in order 
 to make his entrance into the bay. This entrance is 
 generally filled, to some extent, with deadheads, and in 
 at least two places you can find, most any night, a 
 floating bog. After passing under the railroad bridge 
 you come into full view of Kabekona Bay. Imme- 
 diately, upon entering this bay, it appears that you 
 have dropped into a wild land. There is nothing par- 
 ticular ahead of you but water and a shore line, 
 which is covered with a dense growth of trees of the 
 Northern clime. 
 
 About two miles ahead and to the left stands an old 
 square box of a house. It never was painted, and prob- 
 
36 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 ably never will be. It has all appearance of being used 
 at one time, and a good many years ago, as a bunk and 
 grub house for the lumber jacks, who at one time in- 
 fested this particular shore of the bay. Civilization 
 has cut away a few acres here, and this clearing stands 
 in blue grass. There are a few big trees left. 
 
 As we approached our camping ground we found 
 that the ice and storm of the winter before had taken 
 out the dock we had labored the year before to make, 
 so we landed at the best place we could find. 
 
 We found, upon landing and a short tour of inspec- 
 tion, a few slight changes in the place, and that Mr. 
 Billban had unloaded the major portion of our bag- 
 gage. He, at the particular time, was wrestling with 
 a large barrel of gasoline, when, much to our excite- 
 ment, the barrel slipped off of his boat and into the 
 lake. Some of us were surprised to see that the tank 
 floated, and that the gasoline was brought into shore 
 without injury. Mr. Billban now started his motor 
 and hurried away, leaving the Syndicate to hustle for 
 itself; and hustle we did, and had to. 
 
 Our breakfast had most been forgotten — yet our 
 dinner was a long ways ahead of us. We took a look 
 over the place and found the old grub-house to be in 
 about the same run-down condition, excepting, how- 
 ever, for its roof, and that really looked as though it 
 would tumble in any minute, having been broken in the 
 middle by having too much snow fall upon it last win- 
 ter. The carpenters of the Syndicate lended a hand and 
 shortly the roof was put in a condition, which condition, 
 while being safe, was not much upon looks. 
 
 We found that the screen door had been taken from 
 the grub-house and proceeded to make something else 
 do, so Remus, Percy and Dan took a door off of a tent 
 
THE SYNDICATE 37 
 
 and put an extension upon the house and made the 
 house fit the door, and in that way provided ourselves 
 with protection against the mosquitoes. 
 
 While these members of the Syndicate were doing 
 this the balance swept out, washed and dried the dishes 
 and cooking utensils. Mr. Stephenson prepared a pile 
 of dry wood. Our beds were made in a sort of a sum- 
 mer-house, upon its porch. 
 
 Doc, Fred and Clint brought a hale of hay with 
 them, and in due time I found the purpose of the hay. 
 They also brought a bed tick with them, stuffed the 
 tick with the hay and prepared a bed for themselves — 
 and so did everybody else. 
 
 After everything in the way of preparedness was 
 done, the cooks, Doc, Remus and Percy, proceeded to 
 fix a dinner. This was the first real good feed we had 
 had for several hours. After the customary pipe of 
 tobacco by those who smoked, a customary glance, by 
 those who enjoyed reading, at the Ladies' Home Jour- 
 nal, or something else of the kind, Mr. Segur waded 
 into the dishes, and with the assistance of all, soon ran 
 out of a job. 
 
 The Syndicate being out of a job, and having had a 
 real good meal, and it still being Sunday, and it being 
 against the religion of certain members of the Syndi- 
 cate to fish on the Sabbath — of course the fishing reels, 
 hooks and bait all being gotten ready for the following 
 day, without exception to day or religion, the Syndicate 
 discovered that they did not have the necessary quali- 
 fication to lawfully fish in the lake — to Walker the 
 Syndicate must go. 
 
 Oh, will I ever forget how tired I was when some- 
 body suggested that we go to Walker — and so was 
 everybody else, but to Walker we must go. 
 
38 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 It was Sunday night, Walker was dressed up a con- 
 siderable, yet, into Walker went the Syndicate in their 
 fishing clothes — a veritable bunch of Indians, and to 
 look at them would be to form some doubts as to their 
 being civilized. Yet the people at Walker welcomed 
 us as though we were their lost children, and with a 
 successful voyage down we hurried to the hotel, where 
 we found an emissary of the deputy game warden, 
 and there procured our licenses. These licenses cost a 
 dollar apiece. We completed our purchase, and then 
 the people of Walker looked us over; and, indeed, we 
 were some tired looking tramps. Several of us bummed 
 stationery off the hotel and wrote our first letter to 
 our wives. 
 
 It was fast growing late, and it was dark on the 
 water. Everybody was in a hurry. I jumped in, 
 started the motor, and away we pulled, when the darned 
 old engine missed and coughed, and then it was crank, 
 and crank. I cranked until my hands were all worn 
 to the quick, and it wouldn't go. During all of this 
 time Mr. Segur looked profound — he called attention 
 to this "do-dad" and that "do-dad," offered all kinds of 
 suggestions. 
 
 Finally, we found that the gasoline had been turned 
 off in the head of the boat. This, of course, was reme- 
 died, and away we went, leaving Walker and our ruffled 
 dispositions behind. I do not remember the exact num- 
 ber of guides we had in the launch on that trip, but 
 each and every one signaled in a different direction to 
 the other, and finally, after sitting all cocked up like a 
 trigger on an old-fashioned rifle for a couple of hours, 
 arrived at the camp. 
 
 Shortly everything was quiet in and about the camp 
 excepting for the buzz buzz of the sleepers. I didn't 
 
THE SYNDICATE 39 
 
 have time for anything, after tying up the boats and 
 pulling them in, but to get ready for bed. 
 
 The air was cold and fresh. We had lived from 
 August to a night in the early portion of November, as 
 far as the climate was concerned, without touching on 
 any of the other interceding temperatures. When I 
 pulled off my heavy winter wear, outdoors, and slipped 
 into a night shirt, I feel that you will believe me when 
 I say that the air was a trifle fresh; yet after tucking 
 one's self into the blankets and a sleeping bag — it is 
 easy to appreciate the condition which prevailed over 
 all. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 There was one member of the Syndicate stated that 
 he started to say the Lord's Prayer before going to 
 sleep, but that when he had said "Our Father," he 
 ceased to remember. Shortly thereafter, by time and 
 tide, clock and watch, four a. m., a sonorous voice of 
 some member was heard. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness! I just can't lie a-bed any longer. 
 I've tried it, but can't do it any longer," shouted some- 
 body, who, having shouted it for his own benefit at least 
 once or twice, proceeded to shout it a second, third or 
 fourth time for the benefit of those who could sleep. 
 
 There were a number of the Syndicate who lazily 
 stretched themselves. We had nothing to do in par- 
 ticular, and yet everything seemed to depend upon 
 hustling out at the early hour. 
 
 I have often heard that the early bird catches the 
 worm, yet never do I believe that the early worm catches 
 
40 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 the only fish, for, in our experience, most of the fish 
 were caught somewhere near the middle of the day, 
 sometimes late in the evening, but none that I remem- 
 ber of early in the morning. 
 
 Yet the Syndicate had been stirred at the hour of 
 four a. m. It might have been, however, that the Syn- 
 dicate to a man desired to get up at that hour — and 
 that the Syndicate to a man "couldn't lie a-bed a min- 
 ute longer"; and it might have been that a certain mem- 
 ber of the Syndicate couldn't under the circumstances; 
 and it might have been that a certain member of the 
 Syndicate desired to maintain a reputation at being an 
 early bird, or had a reputation to maintain; or it might 
 have been that a certain member of the Syndicate was 
 at that hour awake, and would not in his present 
 fatigued condition trust himself in a warm bed, out in 
 the cool, crisp air, to again fall asleep; yet, laying aside 
 all of the various possibilities and probabilities, there 
 was the Syndicate thoroughly aroused at the early 
 hour, at a time when sleeping appeared not only the 
 greatest of all delights but very helpful indeed. 
 
 At any rate, as suggested, one of the members of the 
 Syndicate, for various reasons, could not permit him- 
 self to sleep any longer, so he and Clint got into an 
 altercation concerning a dip in the cool, limpid waters 
 of the lake. The altercation ripened into a banter. Of 
 course with a banter there always springs a lot of loud 
 talking, which is generally coupled with slowness of 
 action; yet neither of the boys would be bantered, so 
 into the lake they plunged; then followed noises, shud- 
 ders, shivers, and expressions of both great pain and 
 great joy. I thought that I had a few moments or at 
 least a half hour for a nap, as a fellow who really loves 
 to swim can't enjoy himself in less time, but my old 
 iron bed began to shake and vibrate so with the expres- 
 
THE SYNDICATE 41 
 
 sions of a watery death that sleep I could not, so I 
 slipped into my clothes, hurried to the grub house and 
 started breakfast, leaving Doc, Fred and Clint to settle 
 the question that the early morning was the time for 
 "a man" to go in swimming. 
 
 Of course, it might have been, yet I enjoy swimming 
 very much, and to do anything I enjoy I want plenty of 
 time, a strong body, and, especially, a well nourished 
 disposition. I don't believe anybody who enjoys swim- 
 ming could get the most out of it at four a. m. At any 
 rate I didn't try, but put forward my efforts toward 
 getting breakfast. 
 
 I had started a large pot of oatmeal to cook the 
 evening before. I had been told emphatically by a 
 member of the Syndicate that it was twice too much, 
 but, measuring the appetites of the Syndicate by my 
 own, found it quite agreeable. 
 
 "How much oatmeal," said I to a prominent member 
 of the Syndicate, with a wink at another distinguished 
 member, "would you like for breakfast?" 
 
 "Oh, just a little — I do not care for very much — you 
 have cooked twice too much." 
 
 So just a little was apportioned out and placed at the 
 seat the said member of the Syndicate had occupied the 
 night before, and before each of the other chairs I 
 placed a bountiful portion. I was still serving the oat- 
 meal when all were seated, but to my surprise I found 
 there had been a shifting in the seating of the various 
 members of the Syndicate, so I smiled to myself and 
 leaned over the vacant chair and filled the bowl, much to 
 the comfort of the server and his appetite. 
 
 We also had an abundant portion of bacon and eggs, 
 and this, together with a like portion of cakes, made a 
 reasonably good breakfast. The Syndicate, to a man, 
 was well satisfied. 
 
42 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 After breakfast each member seemed so contented 
 that he preferred for some moments to sit and reflect, 
 or smoke a pipe, excepting Remus, who was busy pack- 
 ing a box for a shore dinner. He did this so quietly 
 that for some time he was not discovered doing any- 
 thing. Everybody else seemed busily engaged. 
 
 "Well," said Fred, as he got up from his comfortable 
 seat and tramped noisily around the grub house, with 
 such a heavy tread that the roof most did fall in, "if no 
 one will wash the dishes, I'll do it." So it seemed that 
 no one would, and that Fred did, with the aid of Clint, 
 who, alone, came to the rescue. 
 
 As the dish-washing progressed I found that Remus 
 needed assistance in the packing of the box. A list of 
 everything we would need was made. I called the list 
 back to Remus, and everybody else, so that nothing 
 would be omitted. Remus checked every item, and 
 then, with a confidential wink, suggested that he had 
 left out at least three articles, which, being then put in, 
 the box was full and complete. 
 
 These supplies were taken from the order placed by 
 Fred — and right here I want to thank Mr. Segur on 
 behalf of the Syndicate for his painstaking canvass of 
 our needs, as nothing was missing from his order. 
 
 A general preparation followed of the boats. Dan 
 loaded up the various gasoline cans, and mixed the oil 
 with the gasoline in the exact proportion. In a little 
 while the boats were loaded with supplies and every- 
 thing necessary for a day's fishing trip. 
 
 "Where shall we go?" everybody suggested, 
 
 Nobody seemed to have any particularly definite plan 
 as to the place or point, yet we were thoroughly pre- 
 pared and go some place the Syndicate must. Every- 
 body seemed to have a perfect understanding as to 
 where to go, and yet, I dare say, no one knew exactly. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 43 
 
 "I suggest," said Fred, in a sonorous voice, such as 
 would command the attention of everybody except the 
 Syndicate, "that we fish in the bay." 
 
 "Yes," says Doc, as he proceeded to get into his boat. 
 "Boys, we'll fish in the bay." 
 
 Everybody seemed to understand what was meant by 
 fishing in the bay, and everybody pulled out for a dif- 
 ferent bay, and yet everybody agreed with Fred to fish 
 in the bay and struck out for the bay. Some were 
 bound for Shingobee, others for some other bay, while 
 the other boat for the bay in and about Onigum, and, 
 having no place in particular to go, we went over to the 
 bay directly across that arm of the big lake which ex- 
 tends between Walker and Squaw Point. 
 
 Fred and I were in the launch; Clint and Doc were in 
 the smaller motor boat; Remus and Dan having another 
 boat. The boat which Dan was driving had consider- 
 able more speed than any of the other boats, so it 
 dashed about quite playfully. The waves were rolling 
 pretty high and in time we were so separated that none 
 of us could see the other. 
 
 I suggested to Fred that we had better go back and 
 look for the other boats. Mr. Segur said he thought, as 
 Dan was not feeling well, Remus and Dan had possibly 
 gone back and were going to spend the day about camp. 
 
 In the course of an hour's fishing we sighted Doc's 
 boat, and, after hailing them, suggested that we pre- 
 pare dinner. I urged again that we had better look for 
 Dan and Mr. Atwood, but Doc said that Dan wasn't 
 feeling well and he felt positively that Remus and Dan 
 were at camp. So we unloaded our grub box, built a 
 fire and prepared a shore dinner. We had caught a 
 number of pickerel but no pike. We didn't have any 
 fish for dinner. 
 
44 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 Doc and Clint cooked the dinner, and, there not being 
 anything particular for me to do, I took a swim in the 
 lake. 
 
 The water was cold and fresh. After preparing my- 
 self for the swim and starting to go into the cold water 
 by degrees, Fred, not having anything to do, and hav- 
 ing gone swimming at four a. m., busied himself by 
 standing on the bank, throwing stones at me and splash- 
 ing me with cold water, until I got into deep water and 
 swam away from him. 
 
 After a good swim I was ready for dinner, and so 
 was everybody. Neither Remus nor Dan were there. 
 We missed them. I couldn't concede that they were 
 back at camp, yet Doc and Fred affirmed their where- 
 abouts with such positiveness that I let the matter drop. 
 
 We spent the rest of the evening trolling for pike, 
 but caught a lot of pickerel. At five-thirty p. m. we 
 headed towards camp, and in due time arrived. 
 
 When we reached there, we found Remus and Dan. 
 This time we found Mr. Atwood in a disposition which 
 was not altogether in keeping with his general charac- 
 ter. He was not such a merry-faced man. He looked 
 a little grave. Doc asked about Dan. Dan was in rea- 
 sonably good physical condition, yet he, too, looked a 
 little stern. In the course of a very little while we 
 heard that the engine in Dan's boat had gone dead, and 
 the wind and waves had driven their boat across the 
 lake, over to Squaw Point, where they had spent the 
 day endeavoring to fix the engine, without the tools or 
 parts necessary, which had been put into the other boat. 
 The points of the spark plug had heated and melted 
 together. They could not find a simple little wrench 
 of any kind to take out the spark plug to separate the 
 points. There was nothing but waves, and weeds and 
 shallows, and the wind too strong to row back to camp, 
 
THE SYNDICATE 45 
 
 so they had to lay adrift all day in the waves, while 
 the rest of the Syndicate fished. After great labor, 
 and tossing, they were able to land, and, after walking 
 a long ways, stopped at an Indian hut. There inquiry 
 was made for a wrench, but the Indians couldn't talk 
 English. After much explaining, something was found 
 that served the purpose and the spark plug was re- 
 moved, repaired, and the two shipwrecked fishermen 
 started for home. 
 
 "And the worst part of it, in my endeavor to fix the 
 engine," said Remus, as he gave a very serious smile, 
 "all of my tobacco fell into the lake. There we lay, 
 a-bobbing like a cork, all day long. Dan was sick. We 
 had a deuce of a time; you can imagine how we felt." 
 We all did, and all apologized, most profusely, includ- 
 ing Doc and Mr. Segur, resolving never again to be out 
 of sight of any of the party. 
 
 During the profusion of apologies we cooked a very 
 fine supper. Clint furnished the wood, Fred set the 
 table and P. Field, as sometimes he was called, per- 
 formed the duties of chef, everybody working to the 
 satisfaction of everybody else. 
 
 I sat down to smoke my pipe before going to bed, as 
 it was growing late. 
 
 "Well," says Fred, restless to do something, other 
 than wash the dishes, "if I was to go to town, I am 
 sure I would have a letter from my honey." 
 
 "And so might I," was the response, given by a tired 
 fisherman named Percy, and in no shorter time than it 
 took to tell of it the bargain was sealed. I was to 
 drive the launch and we were going to Walker at night 
 for a letter from Fred's honey and my darling. 
 
 It was very dark on the water. I looked out toward 
 the end of Kabekona Bay. There was the wild and 
 dark shore line. I was very tired, yet I started the en- 
 
46 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 gine and in a little while we were sailing for a light 
 speck on the horizon. We made the railroad bridge 
 with safety and the big lake. It seemed like everything 
 disappeared when we got into the big lake. The waves 
 were rolling a monotonous churn, and every now and 
 then a big one would spill its white whiskers into our 
 boat. On we went in our quest. Fred sat in the front 
 of the boat and gave directions and drank water out of 
 the lake. 
 
 After rounding Morris Point we had no difficulty in 
 locating Walker, from the lights on the dock, which 
 looked most like stars on the horizon. Gradually they 
 grew into lights, yet as they grew stronger our eyes 
 were dimmed and the blackness about seemed impene- 
 trable. 
 
 "Keep a sharp lookout," said I, as it was so dark that 
 I could not see much over the front end of the launch. 
 
 "All right!" responded Fred, and on we went. 
 
 "What's the green light to our left?" I inquired of 
 the lookout. 
 
 "It must be a boat," answered Fred. 
 
 It looked to me as if it was going from us. We had 
 left in such a hurry that we had no light. I again urged 
 Fred to keep a sharp lookout, as I felt most anything 
 might happen on such a dark night. 
 
 The green light disappeared and all was dark except 
 for the lights of Walker. We were within a quarter of 
 a mile of the dock. The lookout appeared at his usual 
 position. His face was turned toward the dock. 
 
 "Where shall we land?" I demanded, and was sur- 
 prised to hear no response. 
 
 "Look out — Segur, an oar — push away!" And no re- 
 sponse was made by the lookout. At that very moment 
 a huge launch appeared from the blackness. It had no 
 light. It was steaming directly toward us. I threw 
 
THE SYNDICATE 47 
 
 the rudder clear over and jumped to the middle of the 
 boat, grabbed hold of the prow of the big boat and 
 pushed with all my might. Never before did I appre- 
 ciate being active and strong, for, as I leaned against 
 the big boat and thus eased the momentum of striking 
 our boat, our launch responded, so that I pushed it clear 
 of the big boat and saved being run down and a cold 
 dive and swim. 
 
 "Hey, there! You most turned the boat over," 
 shouted the lookout, and then he turned and saw the 
 big boat steaming by, and shuddered. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness!" said he, as we landed and went 
 for a letter from our sweethearts. 
 
 Upon reaching town we found that the postoffice was 
 closed, as well as everything else, excepting a tobacco 
 store, where we purchased three boxes of "Lucky 
 Strike" — and also at the grocery store three loaves of 
 bread. This was the extent of our purchases and con- 
 quests in Walker — for which we had risked our lives on 
 the deep, cold, black waters of the big lake. 
 
 After our extensive conquests, we hurried back to the 
 dock for a start home. We got into the launch. I took 
 my place at the engine, and Fred agreed to keep a 
 sharp lookout. I primed the engine. Its compression 
 was good. "All right, push off," said I. Off we went, 
 but the engine only coughed and then the waves took us 
 for a drift. I made a number of inquiries about the 
 gasoline being off, and was informed that it was on. 
 It was, and, after draining the carburetor in the dark 
 and most falling into the lake, I gave it a good jerk and 
 away we went for home. 
 
 Fred was a good guide this time and steered us 
 straight to the railroad bridge and to camp. I never 
 did know just how he did it, but we arrived safely. 
 
48 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 The Syndicate had put a light on the shore, as a sig- 
 nal to us of the landing place, and were there to meet 
 us and help land the boat. This being done, and the 
 news of a certainty that there would be a railroad strike 
 being given to the crowd, we tucked ourselves in for the 
 night. 
 
 Never did a bed feel so good to me. Before this there 
 was one good thing happened, and one good rule 
 adopted, and that was that everybody was to be up 
 the next day as late as six o'clock in the morning. I 
 never had any particular liking or disliking for getting 
 up at six o'clock in the morning, but as that was a 
 normal hour I decided that I was with the balance of 
 the Syndicate and everybody up as late as six o'clock. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Everything was peaceful and quiet about the camp 
 on the morning of August 15th, 1916, until the hour of 
 five-fifty a. m., and then the storm broke. 
 
 Fred and Clint were again bantering about going 
 swimming, and, after the usual amount of noise, the 
 two of them struck out for the lake. A repetition of 
 the shrieks of a watery death followed. 
 
 At six o'clock sharp I was up, dressed and had the 
 fire going. 
 
 "Who's for bacon and eggs?" I inquired of every- 
 body. Nobody seemed to want eggs. 
 
 "All right," said I. "I'll just cook some for myself, 
 as nobody wants eggs." 
 
 "Now, Percy," said Fred, a little puzzled, as he 
 smiled, "of course, if everybody wants eggs, I'll take 
 some, too." He meant two all the time, and so did 
 
THE SYNDICATE 49 
 
 the balance of the Syndicate, as that was the portion 
 I prepared. 
 
 Of course we had another pot of oatmeal, plenty of 
 bacon, two or three eggs apiece, wheat cakes and cof- 
 fee, and real cream, for those who liked cream, in 
 their coffee and oatmeal. 
 
 Clint packed the box for the shore dinner and Ke- 
 mus and Doc washed the dishes. During the dish- 
 washing period I don't know what had become of Fred 
 and Percy. They didn't have anything exactly to do, 
 and there wasn't any reason given as to why they 
 were not on hand, but they were absent. 
 
 "Where shall we go today?" everybody inquired. 
 Somebody suggested Lake Benedict. We were to go to 
 Lake Benedict, camp at the extreme end, and drink 
 from the cold spring. The boats were loaded much in 
 the same fashion as before. 
 
 We motored to the extreme end of Kabekona Bay, 
 and there found a small, weedy inlet to what is known 
 as Lake Benedict. 
 
 This is a beautiful body of cold water, very cold 
 water. It is said that this lake is fed by cold springs 
 which come from the bottom of Lake Superior. This 
 lake is much the shape of a big egg. It has a great 
 many miles of shore line, which gives the appearance 
 of a veritable wilderness. We drove our boats to the 
 extreme end, and went to look for the spring. The 
 lake had been so filled and flooded that it was out in 
 the lake, so we had to content ourselves with drinking 
 from the lake. 
 
 On our way to this beautiful lake Doc gets to philos- 
 ophizing, and in the course of his conversation Clint 
 puts in and also Mr. Segur. 
 
50 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Yes," says Doc, "suffering is not always the worst 
 thing in the world. We all have more or less to suffer 
 for our fellow-beings — there is the home, the greatest 
 of all institutions. In order that our home should be 
 complete, there often necessitates a considerable suf- 
 fering. Sometimes it is the mission, or apparently the 
 mission, in life of some folk to suffer — " 
 
 "Doc," said Clint, "of course it appears that some 
 should suffer, and a great many do," and then he lit his 
 corn cob pipe, threw out a little more line and winked 
 at Percy Field. "It strikes me that it shouldn't be 
 anybody's mission to suffer." 
 
 "My notion," puts in Percy Field, "is that it is every- 
 body's mission to be happy, and under all circum- 
 stances." 
 
 "Doc," interrupts Clint, "speaking of suffering and 
 happiness, what do you think of the divorce question? 
 I'd like to hear your views on the subject, and yours, 
 too, Fred and Percy." 
 
 Mr. Segur looked very grave. The divorce question 
 was a divorce evil, and he stated that he was against it. 
 Dead against it — didn't believe in it at all; it was all 
 wrong. 
 
 "Of course Percy, being a lawyer," added Mr. Segur, 
 "is bound to believe more or less in it." 
 
 "No," demanded Percy Field, "not because I am a 
 lawyer — I believe in it because I believe we should be 
 humane in our dealings with human beings, and espec- 
 ially our weaker brother and sister." 
 
 "Well, Doc," urged Clint, "you have had a great deal 
 of experience, let us hear from you — you are quiet in 
 this regard — you are in favor of it?" 
 
 "Let me put a question to you all — it is this: Sup- 
 pose a man has married a woman and the woman turns 
 out to be totally unfit to be a wife; or, on the other 
 
THE SYNDICATE 51 
 
 hand, suppose a woman marries a man and later on it 
 turns out that the man is totally unfit to be a husband 
 — in that sort of a case what should either party do in 
 order that they may endeavor to be happy and obtain 
 the things which life really intended for them ? " 
 
 Mr. Segur looked very grave, and took a deep drink 
 out of the lake. 
 
 "What should he or she do?" demanded Clint, with a 
 wink, realizing that he had put a hard question. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Segur, "I cannot imagine a case 
 where a woman would be totally unfit to be a wife — but 
 maybe I can a man — and, of course, where the man is 
 totally unfit to be a husband, in that extreme case — 
 and he would have to be absolutely totally unfit to be 
 a husband — a divorce should be granted the woman." 
 
 "Then," said Clint, with a smile, "you do believe in 
 divorce ? " 
 
 "Only in the most extreme case imaginable," replied 
 Mr. Segur, firmly. 
 
 "Now, Doc, tell us your version of the matter." 
 
 "Well, in this regard it appears to me that for the 
 good of society it might be that it would be far better 
 for a man or woman in those extreme cases to suffer 
 from the total unfitness of their mate in order that so- 
 ciety may be purged of divorce. We are all put here 
 for a purpose; it may be that the purpose of the unfor- 
 tunate mate be that he or she should suffer." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Lawyer, tell us your version," stated Clint. 
 
 "My version is that we all should so live that each 
 should make his or her mate happy. If that condition 
 would exist there would never be an occasion for a 
 divorce; yet, realizing the frailty of humanity, all of us 
 are bound, either by environment or choice, to do wrong, 
 to do good, or be happy. If we fail to do good, and fail 
 to make the lives of our mates happy, misery, hate and 
 
52 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 unhappiness follow; and, as my notion of life is to be 
 happy, to do good, so, with failure on the part of the 
 marriage contract, both morally and civilly — my notion 
 is that even the weaker brother or sister should be 
 given another chance. Divorce has come to us with 
 progress — it is the result of progress. It may be that 
 some of our states make laws which make the obtain- 
 ing of divorce too easy, and some too severe; yet, in the 
 majority of cases, where the lesser ground is set forth, 
 there also exists a greater ground, or a larger or deeper 
 wrong — and that, for the sake of humanity, or the moral 
 effect, the lesser ground is advertised. The wrong- 
 doer should be punished — and, as far as that is con- 
 cerned, they all are. You don't have to pass a law that 
 a man should be hung or put in jail for a wrong, and 
 he or she may escape all outward punishment; yet he 
 or she if they do wrong shall receive their punishment. 
 I believe in teaching people to live right, to do right, 
 and be men and women, and when that condition exists, 
 then we will not be troubled with the divorce question." 
 
 "Yes," says Doc, "that is an idea — Oh, how good it 
 is to associate with each other in this way, to have and 
 receive the various opinions upon different things — 
 there wouldn't be any fun if we agreed on all things; 
 that's the beauty of real companionship." 
 
 At this point Fred took another drink out of the lake, 
 Clint thought he had a bite, and grew impatient to 
 draw out a big one; yet, much to our surprise, we 
 found that our hooks had fouled and were dragging on 
 the bottom. 
 
 As we pulled in our hooks, we decided that we should 
 make camp for dinner. 
 
 We landed at the extreme end of Lake Benedict. It 
 was a beautiful place. There were great Norway pines, 
 white pines, and trees of most every Northern variety. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 53 
 
 The underbrush near the shore was not thick. It ap- 
 peared to have been cleared, and a nice bed of blue- 
 grass had sprung up in the wild. We made our fire and 
 started dinner. Two nice pike had been caught in the 
 bay, and we prepared them. We had a dandy shore 
 dinner. 
 
 About the time we had finished our dinner we heard 
 someone coming out of the woods. We discovered a 
 boat not far away. A man and a woman emerged from 
 the thicket. They were laughing and talking, both car- 
 rying a milk bucket, and making their way to their 
 boat. 
 
 "Hello, there!" says Doc, and he, taking a look into 
 the buckets, saw that they were filled with wild blue- 
 berries. "Come and take dinner with us — we'll trade 
 fish for blueberries — or can't we buy some?" 
 
 "We've had dinner, thank you, in the woods," said 
 the woman. She smiled and turned a sunburnt face to- 
 wards us. Her eyes were blue, and by looking at them 
 you could see she was pure of heart. She was a brown- 
 haired woman, dressed in khaki clothes — a typical sun- 
 kissed berry of the Northern woods. Her husband was 
 tall, well nourished, a man of pleasing address. 
 
 "If you want some blueberries to eat we can let you 
 have some," said he, as he drew near and showed his 
 prize bucket. 
 
 "They've been a heap of trouble to gather, yet they 
 are mighty good," said she, and then she smiled, a real 
 healthy smile. 
 
 "Oh," said Doc, "if you won't take dinner with us, how 
 much should we pay you for these berries?" as he pro- 
 ceeded to dish out enough for each member to have a 
 plenty of the wild dessert. 
 
 "I think twenty cents would be quite enough for what 
 you have, if you take some for supper." And so we 
 
54 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 did, and, then they told us that they lived over on the 
 other side of the lake, and if we would go back into the 
 wood we could gather all we wanted. 
 
 They then said good-bye and went away. 
 
 As they went away I recalled our conversation about 
 divorce. There were two people who lived away from 
 the world, in a small house in the wilds. Her husband 
 was a worker; she, too, was a worker. They were to- 
 gether in God's out-of-doors, playmates, helpmates, 
 gathering blueberries together, and with them the jew- 
 els of life. Divorce! What cared they for the laws of 
 divorce, its grounds — its lesser grounds, its greater 
 grounds — for they were happy, and so should we all be. 
 
 After dinner Dan, Remus, Doc, Clint and I took a 
 swim in the cold water of Lake Benedict. Mr. Segur 
 maintained that he had been swimming when the "men" 
 go swimming, and contented himself with drinking 
 water and throwing stones near some of the bathers 
 who were reluctant about taking the first plunge. 
 
 There, in that far away place, we had a happy time. 
 The water was cold, yet by exercising we all were com- 
 fortable. 
 
 In the course of a half hour Fred grew restless and 
 proposed fishing. We all dressed. As the place was 
 so beautiful, I preferred to remain underneath the big 
 trees and enjoy looking at the wilds. So it was agreed 
 that I could stay and meet the Syndicate at six o'clock 
 at the inlet to Kabekona Bay. 
 
 The other boats were filled. In a little while they 
 motored out of sight. I made myself comfortable by 
 leaning up against a great pine tree. Oh, how beauti- 
 ful! The air was cool and refreshing. It was filled 
 with perfume of the pine branches and the woods. The . 
 sky was blue. A few white clouds appeared as if 
 painted on the far away horizon. Everything was still, 
 
THE SYNDICATE 55 
 
 excepting for the call of a wild goose to its mate; and 
 then a loon. Then two wild ducks flew up close to 
 where we had camped. They appeared to enjoy fishing 
 and swimming. They dived, flopped their wings, and 
 spent an hour or so in my presence. Then came flying 
 a large pelican. He flew about for quite a while and 
 rested his long legs some distance from me. Then a 
 drove of wild ducks flew over me, and I noticed in the 
 distance another drove, and then a drove of mudhens. 
 They alighted in the water and swam about. Oh, how 
 wonderful these people of the wild! How wonderful 
 the wild! I have often heard its call. How often, too, 
 have I, in a way, envied the wild duck; the wild goose, 
 who, by the mere flopping of wings, could breakfast in 
 the sunny Southland and supper in the cool waters of 
 the North. 
 
 I awoke from my sweet dream of nature, and saw 
 the sun was sinking fast, packed the boat, started the 
 engine and motored for the inlet. 
 
 On my way I saw my friends, Remus and Dan, coming 
 to meet me. There was Remus, with his happy smile, 
 and Dan, with his hand on the wheel, delighting in en- 
 circling me, and, with his speedy motor, running rings 
 around me. 
 
 Fred got into my boat to help steer through the 
 crooked inlet, and away we motored. I felt so good, so 
 rested; so free from trouble, strife, care, and worry, 
 that I sang a few songs on our way to camp. 
 
 We arrived at camp in due time. Everything was 
 just as we had left it, and soon the stove was going, 
 potatoes were boiling and rutabagas, too; a salad of 
 tomatoes and cucumbers was being prepared; fish, nice 
 fresh fish, frying. Percy Field was standing over the 
 stove, being sprinkled from time to time with hot 
 grease. In the course of a little while, the table having 
 
56 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 been set by Fred, and the roof of the house almost 
 knocked down by his heavy tramping, supper was 
 served. 
 
 Everybody was ready for supper, and supper, and a 
 plenty of it, was ready for everybody. After the course 
 of a few moments spent in eating, and some serving, 
 Fred took a big drink of tea and then smiled. 
 
 "Well," said Fred, "that's a good one on Remus — ha, 
 ha! He's a good one to pack the lunch box — left out 
 the frying pan!" And then everybody took a jab at our 
 merry-faced man, who proceeded to take a jab at all 
 concerned. 
 
 "Be it resolved," said Remus, with a smile, "that this 
 is a frank bunch — and if you don't do to suit them, 
 they'll always let you know about it — and be it further 
 resolved that this bunch, being frank, can do all the 
 things they do not appreciate others doing." 
 
 "Now, Remus," says Doc, in a pacifying tone, "we 
 got our fish fried very nicely in a piepan. It was really 
 better to have forgotten the frying pan, as it rather 
 taught us to shift for ourselves in an emergency." 
 
 "And we shifted," said Clint, who had finished his 
 dinner, pushed his chair back and started his pipe, "but 
 it was rather hard on the piepans and another such 
 caper will cause somebody to be short a plate — I won't 
 say who," and then Clint winked very knowingly at 
 Percy, took a long puff at his pipe, seconded Mr. At- 
 wood's resolution, which was immediately put in effect. 
 
 Everything was perfectly quiet for about a minute, 
 and then Fred discovered something was wrong with 
 the table and almost knocked the lamp over in trying 
 to take the cloth off without removing the lamp. Then 
 the table had to be taken apart and put together, or 
 fixed. Dan had to come to the rescue, get this, that 
 and a screwdriver, help take it apart, by lying on the 
 
THE SYNDICATE 57 
 
 flat of his back underneath the table, twisting and 
 squirming, and doing this to that "do-dad," as Mr. 
 Segus expressed it — and finally the whole bunch suc- 
 ceeded in putting the whole table back in a position 
 very similar to its original condition. 
 
 "My," said I to myself, "that Fred Segur certainly 
 must have been a regular boy." And so he is now. 
 
 Finally the table got so it would stand on two legs 
 and rock on the other two, yet at all events maintain 
 its equilibrium. 
 
 "Where are we going tomorrow?" demanded Remus, 
 in a voice intended for Fred. 
 
 "Yes," says Fred, "that's much better, much better!" 
 And Mr. Segur was satisfied and contented with the 
 job, himself and the world, for he took a comfortable 
 seat and noisily fell asleep. 
 
 "Hey, Fred!" shouted Remus, so the fish in the lake 
 could hear. Mr. Segur shifted to one side, stretched 
 himself and replied " Whatie ? " 
 
 "You are cheating on Percy. Wide awake, or sleep 
 later in the morning." 
 
 Mr. Segur explained that by reason of his not being 
 able to hear all the conversation, it was a very easy 
 matter to fall asleep, and that it was positively not to 
 cheat Percy, but the result of his condition. 
 
 He then placed his hands behind his head and fell 
 asleep again. Remus found a feather, so, with a smile 
 and a knowing wink, proceeded to touch up Fred's nose. 
 Immediately, upon the feather coming in contact with 
 the end of the said proboscis, the face behind the nose 
 began making queer expressions, and to twist and 
 twitch. Doc stopped reading and looked over the top 
 of his specks. There was also a merry twinkle in the 
 right eye of Doc, while the other was busy winking at 
 Percy. Doc quietly picked up a straw, so that when 
 
58 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 Mr. Segur backed away from the feather of Remus he 
 backed into the straw of Doc. Fred raised his nose, 
 and then lowered his chin, and, in fact, for a while did 
 everything but awaken. He began to slap unconsciously 
 at the fly. He struck himself in the face, awoke, to find 
 a number of smiling men, who suggested that it was 
 time to go to bed. Shortly peace, but not quiet, pre- 
 vailed in and about the camp. 
 
 Just before retiring I noticed a number of the boys 
 whispering together. They told me that they were 
 going to get up before Fred and get an early start on 
 him. At first I thought perhaps that was a trick of 
 Remus' to get me up early. Maybe it was; yet, feeling 
 the sublime joy of being up before Fred, I joined the 
 conspirators in the idea. The first one awake in the 
 morning was to awaken each one of the others, and in 
 that way we would give Fred a fair chance to sleep in 
 bed instead of a chair. 
 
 I then tucked myself in my sleeping bag, heard a 
 mosquito buzz once only and fell asleep. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 59 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Clint was standing outside the door of the sleeping 
 tent, dressing. Doc was just going to get up and his 
 movement awakened Fred. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness! It's time to get up, Doc," shouted 
 a certain member of the Syndicate — "time to get up, 
 Percy." 
 
 Percy had a little quiet laugh to himself, while Doc, 
 Clint and Mr. Fred Segur maintained an altercation 
 concerning the first one up. Remus had been up prev- 
 ious to this, and when he heard the sonorous voice of 
 a certain member of the Syndicate urging everybody 
 to get up, had jumped into bed and pulled the covers 
 over him. Fred vowed that he was awake first, and 
 that he saw Remus lying in bed asleep; and Remus, 
 with another knowing wink, vowed he must have gone 
 to sleep with his glasses on. Fred didn't notice whether 
 Remus had glasses on or not, but vowed that he was 
 the early bird. Remus also wanted to know how it 
 was that Fred could sleep with his head up against 
 a wooden partition and thus see around the corner 
 of the wall so as to see Remus sleeping in his bed. 
 The buzz, buzz of the altercations put me back to 
 sleep. I had, in a short dream, been fishing in a beau- 
 tiful lake, had had a wonderful strike and was about to 
 land a musque, when — bluie, bluie, went the revolver 
 of Remus within a few feet of my head. The concussion 
 was so strong that it simply raised me out of bed; then, 
 turning around, I saw the smiling face of a certain 
 ruffian, who wore a large red handkerchief about his 
 neck and a large Scotch plaid vest. 
 
 I jumped into my clothes, hurried down to the lake to 
 wash; slipped off the dock, and would have gotten my 
 
60 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 feet good and wet had it not been for my preparedness 
 in putting on a pair of rubber boots. 
 
 Upon returning to the grub house I found the table 
 had been set by Fred, all preparations for breakfast 
 begun and in good working order. I arrived in time to 
 cook a few pike fish, which had just been caught, and 
 some eggs. I also served an adequate portion of oat- 
 meal and coffee. In a little while we were the proud 
 possessors of a good breakfast. Remus had packed the 
 shore box; the boats had been loaded by Dan. All I 
 had to do was to grab my fishing coat, pole and box, 
 take my seat at the wheel and away we were headed 
 for Otter Tail Point. Fred, having taken his custom- 
 ary position in the bow of the launch, was proceeding 
 to give directions as to how to get there the quickest 
 way. 
 
 We had an early start and a beautiful day. There 
 wasn't a cloud in the sky. A gentle breeze was blow- 
 ing, enough to cause the waves in the big lake to roll 
 and to put on their white caps. We had to ride the 
 trough of the wave for about three hours and now and 
 then head into the waves. 
 
 "Whoopee! that was a he one" (Fred's definition for 
 any big fish or wave), said Fred, " 'twas the seventh 
 son of the seventh son — watch, every seventh wave — 
 whoopee, there's another." And then Mr. Segur drew 
 his oilskin coat close around him, took a drink out of 
 the lake and signaled me to drive the boat over nearer 
 Squaw Point. 
 
 The other boats were making a direct line for Otter 
 Tail Point. Fred, notwithstanding he had spent thir- 
 teen or fourteen summers in navigating the lake, had 
 mistaken a portion of Squaw Point for Otter Tail. He 
 had me drive about three miles out of the way, much to 
 
THE SYNDICATE 61 
 
 his surprise, when he found that he had reached the ex- 
 treme end of Squaw Point. 
 
 Of course the members of the Syndicate, and most of 
 their wives, for whom this sketch is written, know 
 where these points are located; yet, fearing that some 
 of them might have forgotten, and that, possibly, some 
 other friends might be interested, after our boats 
 passed under the railroad bridge, a considerable distance 
 to our left stands a weedy channel to Steamboat Bay; 
 about three miles straight ahead, and about five miles 
 to our left, Squaw Point protrudes into the big lake. 
 This point is surrounded by a lot of shallow water, 
 weeds and a watery growth. To our extreme right 
 Morris Point, and on beyond that Walker; while straight 
 ahead and about a mile to the left of the railroad bridge 
 appears The Narrows, which consist of a watery growth 
 and various bogs, blocking the entrance to the big lake, 
 on Leech Lake proper. On Squaw Point there are a 
 number of Indian houses, or huts; to the right from 
 Squaw Point lies Pine Point, and then, further on, an- 
 other bay and Stony Point. Otter Tail Point is di- 
 rectly across the big lake from Pine Point, and an 
 hour's ride from The Narrows. 
 
 "Well," says Mr. Segur, as we pass the extreme end 
 of Squaw Point, "the ice and snow of last winter have 
 moved the bog and Goose Island." 
 
 This Goose Island stands in the big lake about three 
 miles from The Narrows. 
 
 We looked over toward Pine Point and there saw the 
 boats of Doc and Remus heading directly for Otter Tail 
 Point. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness!" said Fred. "I thought we were 
 getting there too soon; that was just Squaw Point. 
 There's Goose Island, and on beyond is Otter Tail Point. 
 
62 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 Well, well, Doc's right. I don't see how I could have 
 made that mistake." And then Fred took another drink 
 out of the lake and signaled over towards Doc and Re- 
 mus. 
 
 We motored on to Otter Tail. It was a wonderfully- 
 nice ride. The lake was a little rough, but we were 
 prepared for that. It was very interesting. There 
 stood Otter Tail Point in the distance. 
 
 "You know how that came to be named Otter Tail 
 Point, don't you? Well, it is the shape of an otter's 
 tail," and then Mr. Segur traced the shaping lines of 
 an otter's tail for me on the shore line. 
 
 This is the best fishing water on the lake. We went 
 up to the extreme point and drifted down with the 
 wind. We had the time of our lives catching fish, and 
 good fish. Fred caught some nice pike. Oh, what a 
 joy it was to see him handle a good healthy strike. He 
 fished and fished and so did I. It was great sport. We 
 caught all we needed very quickly. About two o'clock 
 we decided to make camp for dinner. The other boats 
 came in. They also had a nice string of pike, Doc and 
 Clint having the better string. They caught them troll- 
 ing at the extreme end of the point. 
 
 While fishing along this point the wind had raised, 
 a big black cloud had come up. It was starting to rain. 
 We landed in a protected inlet of the point, and upon 
 slight exploration found the network of an Indian 
 house. 
 
 This was of a considerable interest to me. It was in 
 a small cleared place in the woods, a little ways back 
 from the lake. The Indians had taken small trees, which 
 happened to be growing in the right place, pulled them 
 over toward the middle and then with pieces of bark 
 had tied them together. They had taken a number of 
 
THE SYNDICATE 63 
 
 smaller branches and trees and made a network of 
 limbs over the top- and sides. All of this was put to- 
 gether without the use of a nail. On top of this net- 
 work we spread a large tarpaulin and over in one cor- 
 ner of the house made a fire. 
 
 Every one of the Syndicate prepared a big pike fish, 
 by taking two steaks out of the back, which were free 
 from bones. In a short time a nice dinner was pre- 
 pared. We there had all the comforts of home. For 
 those who liked cream in their coffee, we had what 
 Fred called "contented cow." We also had fresh milk, 
 butter and cheese. We all ate heartily. 
 
 Fred hurried through his dinner and then took a 
 stand as a lookout at the lake, figuring out the best 
 place to fish. As we were lying on the ground, smok- 
 ing, Mr. Segur had another idea. 
 
 "Percy, let's take Doc's boat, and you and I will go 
 over around by Onigum, and thence to Walker, and 
 there we'll do the buying." 
 
 "Oh, sit down, Fred, and be patient," shouted Doc. 
 "That's too far out of the way for you fellows to go 
 by yourselves." Fred didn't sit down, but proceeded to 
 argue his point, stating that that was the nearest way 
 to Walker. 
 
 Everybody suggested that it was the closest way, but 
 the waves were rolling high and Percy didn't want to 
 risk not finding the inlet, and didn't relish getting out 
 in the cold water and dragging the boat over a sandbar. 
 
 "Well," said Fred, "I made one suggestion, the first 
 morning, and, by dig, I'll not make another one." 
 
 "Now, Fred," says Doc, in a pacifying tone, "you 
 know we are all for you, and your suggestions, but it's 
 unreasonable to go that way now." 
 
64 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "By dig!" says Fred, as he grew restless. "I want 
 to fish — I don't want to sit on the bank and smoke a 
 pipe; I want to fish. I can sit around at home and 
 smoke a pipe, if I want to, by dig! I want to fish here. 
 Well, come on any of you fellows who want to fish, 
 and we'll fish, if we can't go over to Walker through 
 Onigum," finally urged our fisherman. 
 
 The Syndicate was called to order by as many differ- 
 ent chairmen as there were members. A vote was taken 
 upon the proposition of Fred. It lost with one dis- 
 senting ballot, and we compromised the situation by 
 going fishing. 
 
 During dinner it stopped raining. Everything was 
 cold and damp. The wind had grown higher. We 
 fished until about five o'clock. I thought it was time 
 to go home, so started the suggestion. 
 
 Oh, my! How the waves did roll! 
 
 "Mr. Segur," said I with a smile, as I looked at the 
 high rolling sea, "sons of seventh sons." With this 
 there came a tremendous wave and swish. 
 
 "Hey, there! Throw your boat into them. You'll 
 wet us good." 
 
 I cut down the speed of the engine, and went into the 
 waves for about an hour. I had put on my rubber 
 boots and big rubber coat and a rubber hat. Fred and 
 I took turns at pumping out the boat. Fred looked so 
 disgusted with his job of pumping, I feel he thought 
 possibly it would be well to have a hole in the bottom 
 of the boat, so it could run out as fast as it ran in. I 
 grew slightly sea-sick. I was cold; very, very cold, 
 damp, and the seat of my trousers was wet, as the huge 
 waves washed over us. 
 
 We reached Walker in safety, and while there in- 
 quired for the mail. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 65 
 
 "What did you get?" said I to Fred. 
 
 "A letter from my honey," was the reply, as he 
 opened an envelope, and with a smile that reached from 
 ear to ear. 
 
 "Oh, my! Green ink! Where in the world did she 
 get the green ink?" said Fred, as I seemed to wonder 
 if it were possible to have a love letter written in 
 green ink. 
 
 I also had a letter from my loved one. I was eager 
 to read it, so Mr. Segur and I took a little time off, 
 but the green ink stalled him, and he suggested that we 
 pull out for camp. 
 
 We climbed back into our boat. Fred took his usual 
 seat, and usual drink out of the lake. After a couple 
 of hours of pounding the waves, we reached camp. 
 
 Doc had gone the shorter way, avoiding Walker, 
 heading from the Onigum Canal to the railway bridge. 
 He reached camp an hour or so before us. He was 
 going to get supper for us. 
 
 "Fred, give me the keys to the grub-house," was the 
 cry of Doc which greeted us from the bank as we pre- 
 pared to land. "Here we have been for the past hour, 
 all locked out. It's growing late," Doc added. 
 
 Fred found the keys and Doc hurried away. Clint 
 was at the wood-pile chopping wood. Fred and I 
 looked a little downcast, and Doc suggested that I get 
 busy and peel the potatoes. 
 
 I went into the grub house for the potatoes, and 
 found a good fire. The pots were on the stove, and 
 everything in readiness for a good supper. 
 
 "Gee, but I am thankful for this!" said I, as I saw 
 that Doc, Remus, Dan and Clint had prepared supper, 
 Doc and the rest of them having climbed in a window 
 and brought the various other eatables in after them. 
 
66 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 We had another splendid supper. All of us sat 
 about the fire enjoying a smoke. 
 
 "Well," says Fred, "I guess I'll have to wash the 
 dishes," as he stretched himself and got up; and tramp, 
 tramp, tramp, around he went gathering up the dishes 
 as a man of much business, while everybody else 
 shouted to him to leave them until morning. 
 
 "No sirree," shouted Fred. "I wouldn't sleep good if 
 I were to do that." So Percy rolled up his sleeves, and 
 he and Remus helped our worthy and industrious 
 friend. 
 
 That over, Fred found a comfortable seat and fell 
 asleep. I prepared a pot of oatmeal for breakfast, 
 and everything was ready. Fred thought of something 
 in his sleep and awoke. 
 
 "Percy, put on the oatmeal!" shouted Fred. 
 
 Percy didn't pay any particular attention. Fred 
 made another tramp about the grub house for the pur- 
 pose of putting on the oatmeal. Much to his surprise, 
 he found it boiling and nearly done. 
 
 "Hey, Fred," shouted Doc, "keep out of the oatmeal; 
 that's Percy's job, and we don't need any more cooks at 
 present." 
 
 "Well," says Fred, much distressed over it being 
 assumed that he didn't know how to cook oatmeal, "I 
 was only stirring it." 
 
 "Well, stirring it; that's just what you don't want to 
 do; let it cook. Oh, Fred, have a seat!" After con- 
 siderable coaxing, Fred and Doc took a seat. Remus 
 came to the rescue and suggested that we had all bet- 
 ter go to bed, as we would be sleeping past the hour 
 in the morning. The suggestion being extremely 
 timely, it was well taken, and in a little while everything 
 was peaceful about the camp. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 67 
 
 I hurried to bed, as I knew the Syndicate would be 
 up early. It was rumored that our friends, the two Pet- 
 tibones, would arrive in Walker on the morning train, 
 so I expected to be stirred about three or four-thirty 
 a. m. Well, I didn't mind that, as Mr. Pettibone was 
 a most admirable fellow. Y^e had missed him on many 
 occasions — his stories, his wit and humor and, most of 
 all, his delightful companionship. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Thursday morning of August 17, 1916, found every- 
 thing and everybody still in and about the camp. No 
 one stirred, excepting to let down the porch canvas, 
 so that a deluge of rain could not pour in on the sleep- 
 ers. Remus and Dan had planned secretly to go for 
 the Pettibones at four or five o'clock this morning, yet 
 there was a "northeaster" blowing, as the natives would 
 put it, and those who wanted to sleep had a fair oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 I was aroused shortly before six o'clock by the rain 
 coming in on me. It had drenched the bed, but as my 
 sleeping bag was made of heavy ducking, I was all dry. 
 I hung my clothing up to dry by the fire in the grub 
 house and then went back to bed for awhile. I slept 
 until seven o'clock, at which time Mr. Segur couldn't 
 stand it any longer. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness! What's the use of a fellow lying 
 abed until the middle of the day?" shouted Mr. Segur. 
 
 I shall always have my doubts about seven o'clock be- 
 ing the middle of the day, but Fred, Clint and Remus 
 went for a plunge into the lake after considerable ban- 
 
68 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 tering. About eight o'clock, finding that my clothes 
 were not as yet dry, I decided to enjoy a morning swim. 
 
 There was a "northeaster" blowing, I was told from 
 right off Lake Superior. It seemed to me that it was 
 blowing off the ice shores or Greenland or some other 
 similar place. However, not having anyone to banter, 
 and being alone, I slipped out of my warm bed and 
 night shirt and down to the lake I went. Oh, talk 
 about the shivers! Whew! and double whoopee! it was 
 cold to dash from a warm bed to the cold waters of 
 the lake. I made a dash and the cold rain most did 
 take my breath. I slipped when I nearly reached the 
 lake, and fell, rolled over in the wet grass and was 
 thoroughly prepared for a dip in the lake. Much to my 
 surprise I found the lake very comfortable, compara- 
 tively speaking, and had a delightful swim. 
 
 On my way to the grub house I was discovered by 
 the Syndicate, so I was directed, as I was so duly and 
 truly prepared for the trip, to go to the spring for 
 some butter. After the trip to the spring for butter, 
 it was discovered that the milk was needed, so back I 
 went. After this a few other little out-of-door errands 
 were run, and then back to the lake I plunged to get 
 warm. I was thoroughly warmed in the cold water 
 of the lake, and then made a dash for the grub house, 
 and in a little while found myself dressed, my clothing 
 having dried, and the possessor of a good breakfast. 
 
 "Well," said Clint during breakfast, "I can see 
 Charley walking to the dock for the eleventh time, 
 and now, since it his stopped raining some, hear him 
 saying: 'Well, they've just started for us.' If he could 
 appreciate how calmly we are awaiting our time for 
 him I venture he would have something expressive to 
 say to us." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 69 
 
 "Well, we'll start for them in due time," said Doc, 
 and then followed a discussion of the working girl 
 question. Doc started it, and between Doc, Fred and 
 Clint the question was thoroughly threshed and 
 warmed up to such an extent that I thought that each 
 member, upon several occasions, was liable to be 
 threshed by each other. In the controversy Fred got 
 to working on the stove, which had long grown cold 
 for lack of wood. 
 
 "Oh," said I to myself, "what's the matter with the 
 woodchopper?" 
 
 The woodchopper had something to say concerning 
 the various department stores; their independence and 
 impudence; that he wouldn't buy a "thimble of salt from 
 one of them." After the argument had grown both 
 cold, hot and warm and very hot, the debaters rounded 
 off to Doc and Clint, and as they pretty nearly agreed 
 upon the subject, when they were somewhat disturbed 
 and interrupted by Fred pounding on the cook stove. 
 
 "Well, I'd like to quit this job, but I hear my old 
 New England conscience saying: 'A job that's worth 
 doing is worth doing well,' and, by dig, I just can't 
 stop this job now," vowed Fred, as he looked up from 
 his work and discovered a new-comer in our midst. 
 
 "Well, Charley!" shouted Fred, as he dropped his 
 hammer and walked over to Mr. Charles I. Pettibone 
 (hereinafter for good-fellowship known as Charley) 
 and proceeded to embrace him as an actor would on the 
 stage. 
 
 Charley was welcomed in due form by all of the 
 Syndicate. Remus and Dan, ever true to the cause, 
 and never forgetting anybody, had gone for the Petti- 
 bones. Mr. Ira Pettibone was also present. Of course, 
 we were all glad to see him; and he hereinafter will be 
 known as Ira. 
 
70 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Well," said Charley, as he gave a healthy and satis- 
 fied smile, evidently glad to be with us, "speaking of 
 that old New England conscience, you know that I 
 have known the people of that locality to some extent, 
 and their conscience — well, to say the least, it is very 
 flexible indeed. Of course, Fred's isn't, but the old New 
 England conscience," he added with a chuckle. 
 
 "Tell us about the flexibility of the New England 
 conscience, Mr. Pettibone, please," urged Percy. 
 
 "It's this way: A native of New England could do 
 anything he wanted to, providing he did not make any 
 outward signs of enjoying it. There would be things, of 
 course, other people should not do, but he — well, he 
 could do anything as long as he didn't enjoy it." 
 
 Charley took a comfortable seat and visited with the 
 Syndicate. Somebody got to talking about the boys of 
 today and the boys of yesterday. 
 
 "That reminds me," suggested Charley with a smile. 
 "There was a schoolmistress instructing her. class. The 
 problem was to give a word and define it. 'Teacher,' 
 says a little boy, 'I've a word.' 'All right,' says she, 
 'what is it?' 'Fur,' says he. 'Spell it,' says she. 'F-u-r,' 
 said he. 'And now define it,' said she. He grinned and 
 said: 'It means a long distance.' " 
 
 After receiving the news from Kansas City by an 
 eye witness, principally to the effect that it was hot as, 
 a long way below the face of the earth, everybody 
 busied themselves at some kind of work for the good 
 of the cause, and Fred, having finished his job, came 
 down to the lake. 
 
 "Hey, Doc," said Fred, first realizing that his New 
 England conscience had deprived him of superintend- 
 ing another job, and pointing to Doc, who was, with 
 the assistance of Percy, building a dock, "drive a nail 
 
THE SYNDICATE 71 
 
 here, that will never hold unless you do." Another al- 
 tercation between Doc and Fred followed. In this case 
 it would have been better for the dock, and especially 
 for Fred, had several other nails been driven where 
 Fred suggested. 
 
 The weather had cleared up and the sun had come 
 out to aid us in welcoming the two Pettibones. I was 
 wading around in the lake, carrying big stones over 
 to the dock for Doc, and finally coaxed Ira in swim- 
 ming, also Charley. The whole Syndicate in a few 
 moments was plunging about in the cold water, except- 
 ing Fred, who vowed that he had gone in when the 
 "men went swimming." 
 
 We took the launch out into the bay. Remus went 
 along. He seated himself in a high and dry place, and 
 as we swam about and dived he proceeded to play the 
 role of Dan Cupid, and was throwing his darts at the 
 various swimmers who attempted to hold onto the boat. 
 
 After the swim we all went to help the Pettibones 
 arrange their beds. Charley found the beds of Doc, 
 Fred and Clint on the floor, and some hay lying about. 
 
 "I suppose we have some jackasses with us," said 
 Charley to me confidentially, as he viewed the hay and 
 beds on the floor, when there were plenty of cots. 
 
 "Ha, ha," chuckled Charley to himself, "that reminds 
 me of a little instance of Bill Nye. Bill used to have a 
 friend by the name of Riley. They used to buddy 
 around together, and one time when traveling together 
 both Riley and Bill got pretty drunk. Riley says: 
 'Bill, you buy the tickets, as you are a trifle steadier 
 than I.' 'All right,' says Bill. And when they got on 
 the train Riley asked Bill if he had his ticket. Bill 
 says: 'No, Riley, I didn't think to buy it.' 'What am I 
 going to do?' says Riley. 'Well,' says Bill, 'when the 
 
72 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 conductor comes around you just get down on the floor 
 and I will throw a blanket over you.' 'All right,' says 
 Riley. So Bill covered him with a blanket, which was 
 handy in those days, and a couple of telescope valises. 
 The conductor came around and Bill handed the con- 
 ductor two tickets. The conductor inquired of the 
 whereabouts of the other passenger, and Bill told him 
 confidentially, and very low, that he was down under 
 the blankets and telescopes. 'Why's he there?' de- 
 manded the conductor. 'Don't know,' says Bill, 'except 
 he is just a little peculiar,' And so it is, possibly, with 
 Doc, Fred and Clint when it .comes to making beds on 
 the floor, when there are plenty of good beds and cots." 
 
 After preparing the two Pettibones for the night, we 
 all took a seat under the shade of the trees and visited. 
 Clint told of his boys, illustrating how boys, and men 
 and women, as far as that is concerned, were all crea- 
 tures of reason, and that it was far better to reason a 
 fellow into the right way of thinking than knock him 
 into the wrong way. 
 
 While sitting in the shade in front of the grub house, 
 I noticed on our shore a beautiful canoe. Ira had 
 brought it with him. It looked so nice and trim; 
 seemed just the thing; yet, as I recall a hunch I had 
 when I was looking at it, it made me feel that it was 
 going to be the cause of something happening to 
 somebody. I didn't know what it was, still it looked so 
 trim and nice that it seemed to say, "Beware!" Well, 
 I didn't beware and, of course, something happened, 
 which in due time will be revealed, to the pleasure of 
 those who enjoyed the fun. 
 
 Ira brought a new style from the city. It was the 
 wearing of an undershirt instead of a woolen shirt. 
 Thus the sun had a full chance at a fellow's shoulders 
 and back. Remus had a bathing shirt that didn't have 
 
THE SYNDICATE 73 
 
 any buttons on it to come undone, so he followed 
 the style. -Dan enjoyed doing what Dad did, so he, 
 too, followed the custom of the city. Of course, Percy 
 enjoyed the same pleasure. It is mighty nice to feel 
 the warm sunshine on your back, yet when it comes to 
 feeling it all night, well, some folk can't say so much 
 for it. There were the Atwoods, and Ira, fresh from 
 a shirt, coat and vest, with tender white skin; and 
 what the sun didn't do to them I cannot say. Remus's 
 arms wouldn't brown; they would freckle all right, and 
 good and plenty, but the freckles were too far apart. 
 Dan, of course, was mightily like a rose, and so was 
 his dear father; and Ira was mightily like the two 
 Atwoods. Percy had been on the golf course too often 
 for such as the sun to affect, so he just browned. 
 
 After a while we dined. The Pettibones dined. 
 Charley took a portion of the job as chief chef. Every- 
 thing the market afforded we had, and plenty of it. 
 
 A wonderful meal was over. The boys were sitting 
 around in the shade. Ira and Percy went for a fish in 
 the canoe. Ira caught a good-sized pike. For a time 
 there was some question as to which would land — the 
 pike, or the pike land the Pettibone. The Pettibone 
 won in the battle for life and in time we returned to 
 camp. After loafing around there a while, Charley 
 decided that he would take a fish, if he could get any- 
 one to go with him, so Percy, still having a fondness 
 for the trim little canoe, proposed that he would paddle 
 the canoe, as he thought that it would be great sport 
 to see Charley catch a fish from the canoe. So away 
 we paddled. 
 
 Oh, how harmoniously did the paddle strike the water 
 and the canoe glide over its surface. We paddled up 
 the shore of Kabekona Bay, and crept up on a bunch 
 
74 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 of wild mallards. We could have shot a number had 
 we had a gun, the disposition and the law. 
 
 Charley didn't have much luck fishing and he ex- 
 posed a portion of his life. 
 
 "My! Speaking of good times, ha! ha! What's a 
 good time one time in life isn't a good time in another. 
 When I was a young fellow, and that's now a good 
 many years ago, I was into a good many fool things — 
 and out of them, too. I remember one of them I got 
 out of about as quick as I got in, and for a while it 
 looked serious. It might have been, yet I was a young 
 fellow, and so was a friend of mine. We were spend- 
 ing a vacation together, stopping at a summer place — 
 Geneva, Wisconsin. There they had a beautiful lake. 
 A passenger boat made the landing ever so ■ often. 
 About the time for the passenger boat to come in, my 
 friend and I were seen on the dock. We got into a hot 
 argument, and just as the boat landed with the summer 
 tourists my friend pulled out a big revolver and shot 
 over the top of my head. At that time I was standing 
 on the edge of the dock. I fell over backwards into the 
 water, sank and swam under the dock. The hue and 
 cry was put in and my friend was put in handcuffs, and 
 then they went to drag the lake for me. They found 
 me sitting back under the dock laughing. I was pulled 
 out. The charge of murder against my friend was 
 withdrawn, and the two of us were given forty-five 
 minutes to leave the community. They made it so hot 
 for us that we took the challenge. It was well we did, 
 for one of the tourists wanted to have us lynched, and 
 he threatened to kill us both for pulling off such a 
 stunt before his wife, whom he contended was in 'too 
 delicate a condition for any such caper.' " 
 
 "Well," said Percy, "you did stir up a mess, didn't 
 you?" 
 
THE SYNDICATE 75 
 
 "We were just fool boys, but the folk about Geneva 
 made it plain that it wasn't to happen again." 
 
 And then we paddled on, enjoying the canoe, the 
 fresh air and the companionship. 
 
 "Did you ever do much canoeing," I inquired. 
 
 "Yes, some," Charley replied. 
 
 "That reminds me," said Charley with a chuckle. "On 
 another occasion a friend of mine and I had a canoe. 
 We had put a sail on it, and had started out on quite 
 an adventurous trip. The waves were rolling very 
 high and in the course of a few hours the waves and 
 wind upset us and left us a tossing and a bobbing about 
 a mile from shore. These waves and wind didn't seem 
 to bother us so much for a while, but the wind was 
 blowing off shore and it looked like a pretty long swim 
 from where we were. A big boat came steaming along. 
 We yelled and made all the noise we could, but the roll 
 and lash of the waves stilled our voices. We could not 
 attract any attention of those on the large boat. It 
 came so close that we could hear the women's voices 
 on the boat, yet they could not, or would not, pay any 
 attention to us, so there we lay a little over a mile 
 from short a tossing in the waves, holding onto the 
 canoe. My friend wasn't as strong as I, and under no 
 circumstances did he feel equal to swimming to shore. 
 After a great deal of consideration, and a lot of effort 
 to hold onto the canoe and take off my clothes, I 
 turned loose of the canoe and started to swim for 
 shore. I swam and swam against the waves, until I 
 was nearly exhausted. As I approached shore I was so 
 tired and exhausted that I did not dare to let down in 
 the water. I was afraid I would not be able to straight- 
 en out and kick again. I swam this way until I 
 reached shore and until my hands and knees struck the 
 
76 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 bottom. I was never so exhausted in my life. When I 
 reached shore I was directly in front of a summer camp. 
 I didn't exactly dare to come out of the water; and 
 finally, despairing upon calling anyone to my rescue, 
 took a run for a tent. There I wrapped myself in a 
 blanket and went in search of aid for my friend. I 
 found some folks on the shore who had been watching 
 us, and thought that we were enjoying a swim. They 
 objected to loaning me their boat, and told me frankly 
 that they wouldn't stand for such a joke. After much 
 pleading, I managed to get a boat and went out and 
 rescued my friend. We were then invited to have a 
 little drink of some invigorating liquor, and in a little 
 while we felt very well pleased with the general out- 
 come of our shipwreck. The next morning when my 
 friend awoke he found himself black and blue all over 
 from the canoe being knocked against him by the 
 waves." 
 
 "I can imagine," said I, "that you fellows were right 
 game young men to be out in such a fragile craft. 
 Would you do it again, or take this canoe for a sail in 
 the big lake?" 
 
 "No," said Charley, with a smile. "I've had quite 
 enough thrills of that kind." 
 
 We paddled into camp. We hadn't had much luck 
 fishing, yet I was very much interested in the stories 
 of my friend when he was "a mere boy," as he put it. 
 
 Upon reaching camp we found that Clint, Doc, Remus 
 and Dan had gone to town. They had brought the mail. 
 Fred had another letter from his "honey" in green ink. 
 I also had a letter from my sweetheart, posted at West- 
 hampton, New York. 
 
 We had enjoyed such a bountiful dinner that no one 
 was very hungry. We had a help-yourself affair of a 
 
THE SYNDICATE 77 
 
 supper, andL everybody took a liberal portion of bread, 
 milk, cheese and breakfast food. 
 
 Fred grew nervous over the possibility of somebody 
 leaving the dishes unwashed, so he pitched in, and with 
 ample assistance the job was done. Remus prepared 
 the grub box for tomorrow's shore dinner. In a little 
 while the Syndicate to a man visited the inner chambers 
 of dreamland. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 FRIDAY, AUGUST 18, 1916, came at a very early 
 hour; so very early indeed, that I did not have time to 
 refer to my timepiece. Doc, Fred, Remus and, in fact, 
 the younger and older members of the Syndicate, took 
 an early plunge into the lake. It was so early that we 
 had finished our swim, breakfast and the dishes, packed 
 our boats and were off on our journey by seven o'clock. 
 
 Some member of the Syndicate, I know not who, had 
 decided that we were to go to Kabekona Lake, a beau- 
 tiful lake at the end of a very long, crooked river, par- 
 tially filled with bog and all sorts of submarine forests. 
 Kabekona Lake is at the extreme end of a crooked 
 river, which flows into the extreme end of Kabekona 
 Bay about six miles north and west of Lake Benedict. 
 
 There was a fresh breeze blowing. The waves were 
 rolling the direction we were going. 
 
 In a little while we came to the crooked river. Its 
 mouth was well filled with bog and submarine pines. 
 These pines and their draperies constantly wound them- 
 selves about our propeller and made it necessary for 
 one of the crew to hang over the boat and unwind 
 
78 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 them. This had to be done every few minutes. The 
 way to this lake was indeed a wilderness. Civiliza- 
 tion had not yet appeared here. There were miles and 
 miles of marsh, bog and weeds and wild rice, out of 
 which constantly flew the wild birds, who, like the Syn- 
 dicate, were smart enough to summer in that clime, and 
 who, like the Syndicate, appeared to be very happy in 
 their sport. Some distance from the river and marshes 
 stood high banks and hills. These high banks and 
 hills were thickly wooded. There stood the stately 
 pines. They had the appearance, with their small 
 bunches of foliage on the topmost boughs, to be sky 
 dusters of some giant housekeeper, and the sky seemed 
 to be in such clear shape as to foretell their use. Every- 
 thing was fresh and clear, like the water on which we 
 rode. We could see the bottom, see whole trees grow- 
 ing the same as on land, and now and then a fish swim- 
 ming about in the various branches. 
 
 As we approached the entrance to Kabekona Lake the 
 current grew swift. We had some difficulty in follow- 
 ing the channel, owing to the crookedness of the river 
 and the length of our boats, yet, after a good many 
 pushes from one side to the other, and oaring, we 
 reached the lake. 
 
 We motored across the lake to a fine sand beach. 
 This beach was so inviting that in a little while the 
 Syndicate, to a man, was in swimming. Here the 
 water was cold, yet not so cold as Lake Benedict, and 
 we played about in the water with the same comfort of 
 the v/ild ducks. 
 
 Doc and Clint made a fire on the shore and there we 
 had a fine dinner. 
 
 After dinner we cut a number of pine branches and 
 made ourselves a very comfortable resting place, and 
 
THE SYNDICATE 79 
 
 were there enjoying peace and comfort until Fred got 
 tired of looking into the lake. 
 
 "Well, if nobody wants to fish, I do," said he, looking 
 very serious. Of course, everybody wanted to fish, and 
 in a little while the boats were packed and we headed 
 for the other shore, trolling at a slow rate. The waves 
 grew so high that we found it uncomfortable to fish, 
 and all started back through the crooked river. We 
 reached the inlet. There the cold, clear water was 
 running a mill race. 
 
 Fred stood upon a small bridge, which had been con- 
 demned, and cast for pickerel. He had not made many 
 casts when a nice sized pickerel, upon seeing his spoon, 
 made a dash for the hook. The water was so clear 
 that you could see the whole performance. The pick- 
 erel was darting toward the hook at a lightning pace. 
 Just as the pickerel got to the place where the hook 
 would have been, had it remained stationary, Fred 
 reeled it in suddenly and jerked it out of the water. 
 The pickerel, being intent upon its quest, jumped clear 
 out of the water and caught the bait as he went down, 
 and then a big smile came over the face of Fred. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness!" he shouted. "Wasn't that a dandy 
 strike?" It was the most beautiful I had ever seen. 
 
 However, we had caught enough fish to eat. Soon 
 the majority of the Syndicate grew tired of casting. 
 One of them proposed a swim, and in a little while the 
 whole crowd, including Fred, were shooting the chutes 
 by jumping in at the head of the river and swimming 
 down the swift current of the river. The current was 
 so swift at this place that the swimmers had to walk 
 back, or swim back in the eddies on the sides. 
 
 After enjoying this pastime for about an hour, we 
 dressed and headed our motors for camp. 
 
80 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 The crooked river, which was our homeward path, at 
 some places widened so as to form itself into a number 
 of reasonably good-sized lakes. In these lakes we 
 fished, casting from time to time. We caught a number 
 of pickerel, possibly one and a half feet in length. We 
 threw them all back into the water. We called them 
 "snakes," and while ordinarily they are a reasonably 
 good fish to eat, they were far below our fancy, for 
 nothing but pike steaks came up to our taste. 
 
 "Hey, Percy!" shouted Fred, as his serious face 
 turned into a smile. 
 
 "Name it. Is it a pike or a pickerel?" 
 
 "It pulls like a pike," I responded, as I reeled in my 
 line. 
 
 "Yes, that's it. See, he is pulling for the bottom," 
 I added, and away darted the fish. 
 
 "It's a pike, sure enough," I added, as I pulled a 
 pickerel out of the water and into the boat. 
 
 "I told you so," shouted Fred. "You can't tell one 
 from the other until you draw them out of the water. 
 It is just as much fun to catch a pickerel as a pike." 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "but they are not as good to eat." 
 
 "Yes, that's it," Fred replied. 
 
 We had been trolling in the launch. At that moment 
 the motor started up like it would jump out of the boat. 
 Upon looking at the propeller shaft I found that the 
 watery growth had so entangled itself about the wheel 
 that the shaft had been twisted loose. I then started 
 to look for the tools and found that they had been put 
 in the other boat. Dan came to aid me. We found 
 that the pin which holds the shaft in gear with the en- 
 gine had slipped out. This repair was made and we 
 headed for camp. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 81 
 
 We reached camp at eight o'clock and started dinner. 
 In the course of forty-five minutes' hard work dinner 
 was served in the grub-house. 
 
 Everybody ate heartily. 
 
 After dinner we all helped Fred with the dishes to 
 the tune of "Will You Washa Da Dish," an Italian 
 opera, composed and sung by Percy for his own pleas- 
 ure and the discomfort of a certain member who was 
 endeavoring to steal a little sleep from the Syndicate. 
 
 "Thank God, that's done!" shouted Fred, as he 
 tramped about noisily in his search for the Ladies' Home 
 Journal, awakening the sleeping member. 
 
 "Fred! For goodness sake!" Doc shouted. "You'll 
 knock the house down on us." 
 
 "Whatie?" was the amicable reply of Fred, he not 
 hearing about knocking the house down. 
 
 "Tell us the story about your cousin Bill Scott," re- 
 quested Mr. Segur of Percy, as Fred seated himself. 
 
 "Yes, do," said another member of the Syndicate, 
 adding that he had heard Mr. Segur explaining a por- 
 tion of it. 
 
 COUSIN BILL. 
 
 "Well," said Percy Field, as he took a good long puff 
 at his corncob pipe, "if you would like to hear about 
 my Cousin Bill, you shall have that pleasure; and, as 
 each member of the Syndicate is more or less interested 
 in the family characteristics of the various members, it 
 might not only be a pleasure for you to hear me tell 
 it, but it may give you a valuable insight into my real 
 character, by virtue of my revealing a trait of another 
 branch of my family."' 
 
 "Go ahead," declared Remus. 
 
82 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Some months ago I was sitting in my office chair, 
 busily engaged in examining an abstract. I had dis- 
 covered something that looked like trouble, and realiz- 
 ing the possibility of a flaw in the title causing my client 
 expense, was looking rather serious. Someone knocked 
 at my office door. 
 
 " 'Come on in," shouted my associate, Mr. Pugh. 
 "And then the entrance door opened wide enough to 
 reveal a very heavy-set man about six feet tall. 
 
 " 'Come on in,' shouted my associate. 
 
 "The entrance door was opened very wide. Indeed, 
 wide enough to present the life size portrait of a merry- 
 faced individual, whom I learned afterwards was Cousin 
 Bill. As the door opened, he removed a large soft hat 
 from a large bald head, and upon placing it near his 
 left shoulder, bowed enough to permit himself to stand 
 erect, and then smiled. When this heavy-set gentleman 
 smiled, I immediately felt its effect; and, to some ex- 
 tent, my profound state seemed to slip away. 
 
 " 'Good afternoon,' said he, with another smile, as 
 he placed a pair of nose glasses upon his nose, and 
 proceeded to overlook them with a large pair of true 
 blue eyes. 
 
 " 'I'm looking for a young man named Percy Field. 
 Do I behold his handsome presence, or will you be so 
 kind as to direct me to him?' 
 
 " 'You will find Mr. Field in his private room,' said 
 Mr. Pugh, as he directed the big corpulent man to my 
 door. 
 
 "The big man smiled down upon me, and then bowed. 
 
 " 'Do I have the pleasure of standing in the presence 
 of Percy Field?' said he, with a profound, but a pleas- 
 ing, smile. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 83 
 
 " That you do,' said I, not particularly desiring to 
 get into a conversation. 
 
 " 'Well, sir, my name is Bill Scott. I'm from ,' 
 
 as he extended me a large plump right hand. 
 
 "'Glad to meet you, Mr. Scott. What can I do for 
 you?' 
 
 " 'Well, sir, you can cease Mistering me. Call me 
 Cousin Bill, just plain Bill; Will, or William, or Cousin 
 Will, or Cousin William, or Cousin Bill — that preferably 
 — that's what you can do for me, my boy.' And then 
 he took a long breath, and with it: 'Why, boy, don't, 
 for the Lord's sake, start out Mistering me. Why, I 
 was the first living man outside of your dear father, to 
 hold you in his arms, so don't Mister me.' 
 
 " 'All right, Cousin Bill," said I. 'I am glad to see 
 you.' 
 
 " 'And so am I glad to see you, my boy.' And then 
 the dear fellow adjusted his nose glasses very carefully 
 and took a look at everything in my office, including 
 myself. 
 
 " 'Whose's the picture on the wall, with the baby?' 
 he inquired. When he said 'baby' his whole heart 
 seemed to fill the word. 'God bless you, my boy — your 
 wife and child. And you have another pair of bright 
 eyes, too. God bless you again. I'm proud of my 
 cousin. And it's come true, as sure as you are sitting 
 there. When I was a-bouncing you on my knee some, 
 let's see, thirty-two years ago. "What a fine boy, 
 Zella," says I. "He'll 'mount to something." And so 
 he has — a proud father of two lovely girls. How's Cou- 
 sin Lillian and the two babies?' And when he in- 
 quired about the babies he beamed all over, beaming 
 all over their picture, and then beamed at me. 
 
84 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 " 'Percy, my boy,' said he, with a wink, 'you're just 
 like your dear father — out-married yourself, my boy, 
 out-married yourself — and that you've done. Yet 
 when I look into your eyes I feel that you are entitled 
 to some consideration, especially knowing that your 
 dear Pa and Ma left you an orphan, adrift at ten years 
 of age. Yet when I look into your face, my boy, I 
 can't help but say, "God bless you," for you look so 
 like my friend and companion, Zella Mills. Percy, 
 my boy, God never made a dearer and sweeter girl 
 and woman than Zella Mills. Oh, my, I did love that 
 cousin of mine,' he added with a wink. 
 
 " 'Yet Joe was such a fine fellow, and so was Zella. 
 
 " 'Oh, my!' said he, as his eyes grew moist, 'I can see 
 them now as they walked down the aisle of that -little 
 church; the bride so young and beautiful, the groom 
 so strong and handsome. 
 
 " 'My boy, you look like both of them. But let 
 Cousin Bill tell you, you are not half so handsome as 
 your father, or half so charming as your dear mother. 
 Well, well, I'm glad to see you.' And again he demand- 
 ed that I shake his chubby hand. 
 
 " 'Well, my boy, you should be the stingiest man in 
 Kansas City or, as far as that is concerned, you would 
 come well by being the stingiest man in Missouri, for 
 you're kin to me, and I am kin to your Uncle John, 
 and John — Oh, well, he's dead now, yet he died as 
 rich as cream, but not with the same love in his heart 
 for his fellow-man as you or I have. Lord Bless us, 
 my side of the family seems to have gotten all of the 
 love and the other side the gold. Yet what's gold 
 when compared to love?' he added with a smile. 
 
 " 'Not much,' said I. 
 
 " 'Nothing,' he proclaimed. 'But I was going to tell 
 you a little story on Uncle John. You will remember 
 
THE SYNDICATE 85 
 
 that Uncle John was about six feet eight and weighed 
 at no time in his life, excepting when he was a baby, 
 less than three hundred and sixty pounds. He was as 
 stingy as he was big, and his feet were as big as he 
 was stingy, and he had the biggest feet of any white 
 mlan that ever lived. Well, that was nearly forty years 
 ago, when Pa and his boys lived in one section of Mis- 
 souri and Uncle John and wife, Mariah, and his girls 
 lived in another section of Saline county, Missouri. I 
 remember it well. We were farmers. Never before 
 had brother John and I worked so hard to lay the corn 
 by and get the work done on the farm as we had that 
 summer, when Pa says, "Boys, it's watermelon time 
 in Missouri," and that was in those dear old golden 
 days when we raised big watermelons here in Missouri — 
 at least, Uncle John did, as he was the prize fruit 
 grower of the county. "You'd better saddle up about 
 two a. m. and take a trip over to your Uncle John's; he 
 has got the greatest orchard and raises the biggest 
 watermelons of any man in the state, and then he has 
 a bunch of girls, and as girls of a feather flock to- 
 gether, you all may have a grand time," says Pa. We 
 struck out and rode all day. We reached Uncle John's 
 late that afternoon. There he sat in the shade of a 
 pear tree with a sack in his left hand and a fan in his 
 right. He was sitting on a bench especially constructed 
 to suit his dimensions. Now and then he would stop 
 fanning, put his hand up to his ear and then walk over 
 and pick up a pear and put it in the sack. He wouldn't 
 say, "Boys, have one." Oh, no, far be it from Uncle 
 John. He had something else on his mind. After we 
 drove up it didn't take him long to spring it in a clever 
 sort of a way. As we approached our big uncle on 
 his big bench he says: "Boys, go to the kitchen and 
 Mariah will fix you out all right." So to the kitchen 
 
86 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 we went and had a very good meal. John and I decided 
 that we had better go out in the shade and speak to 
 Uncle John. "Good evening, Uncle John," says I. 
 "Howd'y do," says he. "Well, well, boys," says he, 
 "never before in the history of my watermelon patch 
 has it ever been so full of weeds and parsley, and never 
 before have I ever had two such strong boys on the 
 place at the very time. Watermelons," says Uncle 
 John, "never before have I had such fine ones." And 
 he never had such good ones. When he said "water- 
 melons," he just kind a winked a "will you have some, 
 boys?" but for our keener appreciation withheld the 
 invitation. So immediately John and I, while in our 
 Sunday clothes, were furnished a hoe apiece and away 
 we went to the watermelon patch, with the suggestion 
 of Uncle John that it was always best to work and 
 then eat. And work and then eat we did, but not 
 watermelons, or plums, or pears, or grapes, nothing of 
 the kind. Of course, we had fried chicken and such, 
 but for fruit, we could hoe among the watermelons. 
 
 " 'There was Uncle John a bossing and a thumping 
 the melons. I can see him now, bending over and 
 thumping 'em, and saying: "My, but that's a good one." 
 Then he'd pull them and have me carry them off out 
 of the patch and put them in a wagon. Well, when 
 night came we were all dog tired and went to bed early. 
 Morning came right away, and so did Uncle John with 
 the hoes, and we hoed and hoed and hoed until his 
 watermelon patch didn't have a weed in it. It was in 
 the best shape I have ever seen any patch. Along that 
 night when we had gone to bed and hadn't as yet had 
 a mouthful of fruit or watermelon, John says: "Bill, I 
 don't believe that old man is going to give us any 
 watermelon. If we get it we've just got to help our- 
 selves.' 'That's right,' says I, 'but how are we going 
 
THE SYNDICATE 87 
 
 to do it? If we get in that watermelon patch he will 
 track us and the next morning he'll give up the worst 
 thrashing we have ever had, and I'd just about as soon 
 have a horse kick me as to have Uncle John slap me 
 with that big hand of his." John smiled and says: 
 "Will, I've got it fixed — I've studied it all out." And 
 you will remember that old-fashioned Missouri home — 
 the stairway is outside, goes up around a sort of a 
 closet, into which the farmer of the olden days used 
 to keep his old boots and shoes. Well John says : "Will, 
 you wear Uncle John's shoes and I'll wear his boots, 
 and we'll just simply help ourselves." "Well," says I, 
 "It's a go." 
 
 " 'That night we had one of the most beautiful moon- 
 light nights we had ever had in Missouri. We slipped 
 into Uncle John's watermelon patch and helped our- 
 selves to the nice big ones — the ones he had been saving 
 for himself for a hot afternoon, as it took a pretty big 
 one to cheer him. We ate watermelon until it didn't 
 taste good, and plums and pears. It was a wonder it 
 didn't kill us, and it would possibly, had we not been 
 in such good shape from hoeing. After we had pretty 
 well helped ourselves we slipped off to bed, and on 
 our way put back Uncle John's shoes and boots. We 
 went to sleep and had some awful dreams. Morning 
 soon came and we were awakened. 
 
 "'Mariah!' we heard Uncle John shout, as the first 
 glimpse of morning came to us, "There's been a lot of 
 niggers down here from Miami a-stealing my water- 
 melons.' 
 
 " 'How do you know they were niggers,' shouted 
 his wife in reply. 
 
 " 'Lord bless me, but there don't live a white man 
 with feet as big as these tracks.' 
 
88 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 " 'And then we both laughed and dressed, and all dur- 
 ing breakfast Uncle John made such a roar about his 
 watermelons that brother and I thought it was time 
 to go. We did, and left Uncle John and his wife, Mariah, 
 and his five daughters, who we hadn't seen long enough 
 to say more than "Howd'y." 
 
 " 'And do you know that a year to a day Uncle John, 
 his wife, Mariah, and his five daughters called on Pa; 
 and after spending a couple of weeks with Pa, Pa got 
 to laughing about our watermelon escapade, and Uncle 
 John, after having told Pa about how the niggers had 
 stolen them, Pa laughed some more, and Uncle John 
 jumped up. 
 
 " 'Consarne ye, Bill Scott, yer keeping something 
 back from me," shouted Uncle John, as he stood up and 
 shook his big fist in Pa's face. Pa jumped up, too, and 
 in the altercation that followed, the house most shook. 
 Uncle John vowed that if he, Pa, didn't let him give us 
 boys a whaling (a year afterwards) he would cross 
 my father's threshold for the last time. 
 
 " 'Well," Pa says, "John, it served you right. I 
 don't thank you for forcing my boys to steal water- 
 melons, and I don't blame them a bit. But if you are 
 so stingy and cussed as that, there's the door and the 
 threshold. It won't miss you!" 
 
 " 'So Uncle John got right up and loaded his five 
 daughters and wife, Mariah, into a wagon, drove away, 
 and never returned. He died as rich as cream, in 
 money, but powerfully poor in heart. 
 
 " 'So you see, Percy, my boy, you ought to be the 
 stingiest man in Missouri. You'd come well by it,' add- 
 ed Bill with a smile and wink." 
 
 "Tell us about your Cousin Bill's reception of Mary," 
 urged Mr. Segur. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 89 
 
 "Yes," said Clint, "Cousin Bill is quite a character; 
 tell us more about him, and then I'll tell you a story 
 about an old friend of mine." 
 
 "Very well," said Percy, slightly out of breath, as 
 he struck another match for his pipe. 
 
 "After Cousin Bill had related the story about Uncle 
 John, he asked me what had become of Mary Cook. 
 
 " 'Mary Cook/ said I, 'let me see. Oh, yes, Mary 
 Cook Wagy.' 
 
 " 'That's the girl,' said he. 'By goodness, she was a 
 pretty girl; yes, the most beautiful girl that ever vis- 
 ited in Saline county, and we've certainly had a few. 
 Cousin Mary — my, I'd like to see that girl. Percy, is 
 she still as sweet and charming as she was?' 
 
 " 'Cousin Bill/ said I, 'I can't vouch for the beauty of 
 a girl thirty years ago, but today I know not another 
 such woman. She has always had a place in my heart. 
 She's coming down to see me, and I expect her most 
 any minute.' 
 
 " 'Percy, my dear boy, this will indeed be a pleasure/ 
 he added. 
 
 "And then Cousin Bill got up and began fixing his 
 tie, adjusting his collar and dusting off his coat. He 
 sat down and attempted to brush up what was left of 
 his hair. 
 
 " 'My boy/ said he, beaming all over, 'when she 
 comes in don't announce me. I have a surprise for that 
 darling girl/ 
 
 "In a little while Cousin Mary entered my outer 
 office. 'Come in/ said I, 'Cousin Mary.' And in she 
 walked, and took a seat by my desk. Cousin Bill was 
 sitting in another chair in the farther portion of my 
 office, adjusting his tie and dusting off his coat, beam- 
 
90 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 ing first at me and then at Cousin Mary. I looked 
 over my shoulder at him and found him in a state of 
 near explosion. He was staring at Cousin Mary so 
 much that she grew uneasy, and looked steadily at me, 
 and turned her chair so as not to see her kinsman. 
 Cousin Bill then stood up, placed his nose glasses upon 
 his nose, and positively stared at Mary. 
 
 " 'Well/ said he, as he approached with outstretched 
 arms, 'I like you. Yes, my dear. God bless you, Mary; 
 I love you.' Cousin Mary started to scream and call 
 for help, turned and saw Cousin Bill." 
 
 "'Will Scott! I'm delighted.' 
 
 "Then Mary and Bill embraced, and Bill gave Mary 
 an old-fashioned kiss with a smack which could be 
 heard in the outer office." 
 
 " 'Mary/ says Bill, 'you haven't changed one bit in 
 thirty years, excepting to grow more beautiful.' " 
 
 " 'And neither have you, Will,' added Mary, as she 
 took Bill's arm from around her waist and blushed; 
 and with it came the roses of by-gone years." 
 
 "Thus my office was the stage, and my kinfolk the 
 players, while Bill and Mary were mere children play- 
 mates, who wandered in the gloaming. I visited with 
 the boy and girl of yesterday; and soon, yes, too soon, 
 did they have to leave. With them went a shining light, 
 and, while my Cousin Bill may never die as 'rich as 
 cream with gold,' yet, in heart, he will be far richer." 
 
 "He must be a good character," added Fred. 
 
 "Now let us hear your story, Clint," demanded the 
 Syndicate. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 91 
 
 THE TWO SWEETHEARTS. 
 
 "Speaking of personal experiences, there are always 
 characters in real life, who maintain a great deal of 
 interest. There is my ministerial friend, Doctor Por- 
 ter. He was pastor of the Olive Street Baptist Church 
 in Kansas City for a good many years, and there I 
 became very well acquainted with him. Doctor Porter 
 was a mighty good man, and was quite often, by virtue 
 of his goodness, imposed upon. While I was in San 
 Antonio visiting my son, I called upon the Doctor, and 
 during my visit he told me of one of his experiences." 
 
 " 'I was at home very busy preparing my Sunday 
 work, when suddenly the telephone rang,' said the Doc- 
 tor, and proceeded, 'I answered, and after the customary 
 salutations, my telephone caller said: "Doctor, I'm in 
 a heap of trouble — I am down at the hotel in room 
 number four seventeen. I don't like to talk of matters 
 of this nature over the telephone, but I need your as- 
 sistance, and if you will only come and see me I am 
 sure you will do me a lot of good. Please come, for I 
 am certainly in a lot of trouble." 
 
 "Of course, Doctor Porter was one of those good 
 souls, and had to go. Down to room four seventeen 
 he went, and there he was ushered into the presence of 
 a very old couple. There, as the Doctor told me, he 
 was introducd by a strange old man to a lady of about 
 sixty-nine. She was sitting in a straight back chair, 
 on the edge of it, had her arms crossed, and was 
 nervously fanning herself with a little old-fashioned 
 fan, while two yellowish white curls moved gently 
 across her troubled brow from the breeze of her fan." 
 
 "'Is that Doctor Porter?' asked the old man. 'Yes, 
 sir,' was the response." 
 
92 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 " 'Well,' added the old man. 'This lady and I were 
 sweethearts fifty years ago. We were engaged to be 
 married; the war broke out and I joined the army; 
 went away, settled in another section of the country 
 and married. I married a very good woman, and she, 
 afterwards, married a very good man. My wife died 
 many years ago, and her husband died equally as many. 
 Destiny made it possible for us to meet again, and 
 there, at that meeting, we revived the old spark of 
 love — and decided to get married — so we have come 
 to San Antonio to be married. 
 
 " 'On our way here, after she had looked out of the 
 car window for a long time, she asked me if I loved 
 her more than any other woman — if I loved her more 
 than my former wife. Of course, Doctor,' said he, 
 'having still a remembrance of the love I bore for my 
 first wife, I told her that, as my wife was dead, that 
 we had better not draw such comparisons. Then she 
 rared herself up and said, "Well, if you don't love me 
 more than any other woman, we had better not get 
 married — and I'll not marry you. " 
 
 " 'So here we are, Doctor. I have made every ar- 
 rangement, and she still vows that, as I did not answer 
 that question satisfactorily to her, she will not marry 
 me. Now, it has occurred to me, if you would explain 
 the situation to her, that it would be well that we 
 should spend the balance of our lives in the happy 
 union of husband and wife. Please talk to her about 
 the matter.' " 
 
 "Then the Doctor said he sat down beside her and 
 talked patiently and kindly, explaining the virtue of 
 her to-be husband, in his reply urging that he should 
 not be turned down for such a reason. 
 
 "The Doctor told me that he didn't notice any per- 
 ceivable effect he was having upon the to-be bride, 
 
THE SYNDICATE 93 
 
 but that she simply sat there, all straight and rigid, 
 and fanned." 
 
 " 'Step around on the other side/ said the old man. 
 'This is her good ear, and you have been talking on 
 her deaf side.' " 
 
 " 'Please come on this side and explain the matter 
 to her.' " 
 
 "So dear Doctor Porter got up and walked around 
 to the other side. When he had come over to the 
 good ear, she stood up and switched, and asked sharply 
 what he was coming over there for." 
 
 " 'Well/ said the Doctor, as he explained it all over 
 again to her; and then, to his surprise, she stood up 
 and said, 'Well, if he must marry me, he must. So 
 if you are a minister, the quicker you perform the 
 ceremony the better.' " 
 
 "Then the Doctor asked the bridegroom, if he had a 
 license." 
 
 "The bridegroom responded that he was in a strange 
 city, that he had not attended to that, and requested 
 that the Doctor do this for him. So dear old Doctor 
 Porter called up the recorder, and was told that the 
 recorder was entertaining at dinner, but that owing 
 to the fact that Doctor Porter wanted the license, he 
 would have it ready for him, if he would call and get 
 it. 
 
 "So the Doctor went on the errand, after being told 
 to pay for the same and keep account of the expense; 
 that the old man would pay for the whole thing later. 
 The Doctor went out and procured the license and re- 
 turned. Then the two old folk stood up and were 
 married according to law. 
 
94 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "After the Doctor had wished them a long, happy 
 life, the groom said: 'Doctor, please address this en- 
 velope to you and stamp it.' " 
 
 "The groom took the Doctor off to one side, and 
 thanked him, and told him that he had spent the last 
 cent to come to San Antonio, and that if he would 
 give him this self-addressed envelope, he would send 
 him the money just as soon as he got home — that his 
 wife was rich, but that he hadn't been married long 
 enough to ask a financial favor of her, but that he 
 would upon reaching home. Doctor Porter went home, 
 after having performed the ceremony, yet, he told me 
 frankly that he has waited long and patiently, but the 
 self-addressed envelope had never reached him." 
 
 "Well, the old fox," cried Percy. 
 
 "Yes," said Charley. "I can just see that little old 
 woman sitting all cocked up in a straight back chair, 
 with her white hair and the little curls of yellow and 
 white decorating her temples — ha, ha — such is life." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 95 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Morning came of the day of the 19th of August, 
 1916, and with it a cold rain. Everybody seemed to 
 be tired and slept as late as eight o'clock. 
 
 We took a swim, had a good breakfact, found a dry 
 place in the grub house, and Doc, Clint, Charley and 
 Percy played cards. 
 
 After awhile, the weather cleared up, and Fred got 
 Doc to take him to town, to get a number of "do- 
 dads," with which he wanted to fix the motor in the 
 big launch. So off he went, and in due time returned. 
 
 Dan put the large motor in splendid shape, and we 
 were prepared for another trip. I wrote a letter to 
 my darling in Westhampton, and Remus and Dan 
 went out in the canoe. 
 
 There was not much doing today, so after dinner, 
 those who liked to read, read; and those who liked to 
 sleep, slept. 
 
 We played cards after supper and went to bed early. 
 
96 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 August 20th, 1916, was Sunday — another beauitful 
 morning. Some of the Syndicate talked of going to 
 church, while others got busy, doing this and that, so 
 that they couldn't be persuaded one way or the other. 
 
 The Ericksons (natives of Walker), came down for 
 a fish and brought the mail. 
 
 Today Fred couldn't fish, yet, his New England con- 
 science would permit him to row the boat for any of 
 those who wanted to fish, and most of the Syndicate, 
 not caring particularly for another fish, sat around in 
 the shade and smoked and talked. 
 
 Percy Field peeled a lot of potatoes, rutabagas and 
 cucumbers. And right here let me say a word about 
 the cucumbers. Never have I seen such fine cucum- 
 bers, so big and tender; and such a relish did they 
 make. We had a fine dinner, fresh fish and most 
 everything which the market afforded. We all ate 
 heartily and returned to our comfortable positions 
 on the lawn. 
 
 "Speaking of water," said Charley with a smile, as 
 Fred went for a drink. 
 
 "There was a Presbyterian who married a Baptist. 
 His wife was mighty fond of fresh mackerel." 
 
 " 'My dear,' said he, 'why are some Baptists like 
 fresh mackerel?'" 
 
 " 'Don't know,' said she." 
 
 "Sometime later, at a gathering, when the preacher 
 was there and they were talking about Baptists, the 
 question was put again by his wife. Of course, the 
 preacher was very much interested to know why some 
 Baptists were like fresh mackerel. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 97 
 
 " 'Why's a Baptist like fresh mackerel,' the preacher 
 inquired. 
 
 " 'Don't know,' said he, unless it is that they spoil 
 so soon after they come out of the water." 
 
 Mr. Stephenson took a long puff at his pipe and 
 suggested that he had his doubts about the majority 
 of Baptists spoiling as soon as they came out of the 
 water. Percy Field stretched himself and chuckled. 
 
 We had another help-yourself affair of a supper and 
 everybody sat around the stove. 
 
 Doc and Remus got into an argument over the rail- 
 road question, which developed into a dispute. The 
 discussion grew very warm and the differences of opin- 
 ion very wide. Doc's argument tended to support the 
 socialistic idea of the apportionment of the profits of 
 the railroad companies among their employees; while 
 Remus felt that the people who composed the railroad 
 company, who had put their money into the hazardous 
 undertaking, were entitled to all the profits, so long 
 as labor was fairly compensated. 
 
 While this discussion advanced the stove was for- 
 gotten, and while the argument grew very warm, the 
 stove grew very cold. v The matter was disposed of very 
 satisfactorily to all parties concerned, excepting Doc 
 and Remus, by Doc and Remus being requested to take 
 a little heat out of the argument and put it into the 
 stove. 
 
 We then all toasted ourselves and after absorbing 
 the desired amount of heat from the stove, went to bed. 
 
98 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 We awoke this morning, Monday, August 21st, 1916, 
 in the midst of a terrible storm. 
 
 We had planned to go to Ottertail Point this morn- 
 ing for the benefit of the Pettibones; yet, the wind and 
 rain was blowing to such an extent that it was im- 
 possible to venture out, so we all tucked our blankets 
 around closer and slept late; that is, as late as six 
 o'clock. 
 
 At that hour, I sprang out of bed and jumped into 
 my clothes. I felt I had just as well get up and 
 awaken some of the others as to attempt to sleep and 
 have some of the others awaken me. After dressing I 
 went over to the grub house and there found Remus mak- 
 ing the fire, and starting breakfast, by setting the table. 
 
 Remus and I got a regular breakfast. 
 
 After breakfast I found that winter wear was very 
 comfortable, and so did a number of the other members. 
 
 After the various changes Charley and I beat Clint 
 and Doc at high five. We did this two or three times. 
 It was a very pleasant game, however, and reasonably 
 close. 
 
 Fred busied himself reading, maintaining that he 
 was a reasonably good whist player, but couldn't 
 understand the game of high five. 
 
 Ira Pettibone and Dan put on their rain coats and 
 warm clothing and walked to Walker. They did not 
 reach home until after supper. As the hour grew late 
 Doc and Remus grew very much alarmed, fearing that 
 the boys should get lost in the woods. Just as the 
 Syndicate I'were putting out a scouting party the 
 boys returned to camp, and that relieved the tension. 
 The Syndicate being tired with the slowness of the day 
 went to bed. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 99 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The morning of Tuesday, August 22nd, 1916, came 
 early, and with it a delightful freshness. Every- 
 thing in and about the camp had been thorough- 
 ly washed, and now as the sun shown brightly, ap- 
 peared in its finest dress. I arose at my usual hour, 
 not early and not late, six a. m. The canvas curtain 
 had been pulled down the night before, and this kept 
 the sun from shining in on a number of the Syndicate, 
 and did not give the alarm of the approach of day. 
 I dressed very quietly, and then started to go to the 
 grub house to prepare breakfast. On my way to the 
 door I was astonished. There lay in peace, but not 
 quiet, the slumbering body of Mr. Frederick W. Segur. 
 He looked so peaceful there, that I stood over him for 
 a few minutes, and beheld a man with a clear con- 
 science asleep. Buzz, buzz, buzz, was the reply to my 
 meditation. I reached over and was in the act of 
 awakening him, when I thought of his remarks on 
 former occasions: "Oh, my goodness, I can't lie abed 
 after 4:30 a. m." Yet, there he lay, sleeping, and the 
 hands of my watch pointing to six o'clock and fifteen 
 minutes after. I could not stand my keen delight of 
 being up ahead of Fred longer, so I shook him. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness," said he, "I've been a-napping." 
 And he had. 
 
 Fred got up and stretched himself and yawned. He 
 dressed very quickly. Upon walking toward the door 
 he found Dan sitting on the side of his bed lazily 
 stretching himself. 
 
 "Let's go swimming, Mr. Segur," said Dan drowsily. 
 
 "All right. I'm for swimming every morning at this 
 hour," shouted Mr. Segur, as he threw his hat in the 
 corner and pulled open his shirt. 
 
100 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Oh, gee!" replied Dan, as he looked out of the 
 door and began to appreciate the freshness of the morn- 
 ing, adding, "let's not go in?" 
 
 "All right," said Mr. Segur, as he buttoned up his 
 shirt and started for the grub house. 
 
 "By dig, Percy, it just seems as if I can't get any- 
 body to go swimming this morning," added Fred, con- 
 fidentially suggesting that he was very well pleased 
 with the disposition Dan had made of the matter. 
 
 We then hurried over to the grub house, prepared, 
 and had breakfast. I didn't hear anything more about 
 going swimming. The air was cold and frosty. 
 
 This morning we had decided to go to Ottertail, but 
 the waters were still rolling high on the bay, and we 
 felt that they would be much higher over by Ottertail 
 Point. It was decided later to go to Onigum and fish 
 in the bay. 
 
 Shortly after starting out for Onigum, Ira got lost 
 from the rest of the boats, in the canoe; or the rest 
 of the boats got lost from Ira. 
 
 We all then started a search for him. We found 
 him over by Squaw Point serenely paddling for Otter- 
 tail. We then took Ira in our boat, hooked his canoe 
 on behind and went to Onigum. 
 
 We then found that Doc and Clint had gone on to 
 Ottertail, so we made for the cutoff, or canal at the 
 extreme end of Onigum Bay, and headed our boats for 
 Ottertail Point. 
 
 Going this way to Ottertail Point, we have a direct 
 line, after going through the canal. We got through 
 this natural canal all right, after cleaning our pro- 
 peller a number of times, and pushing over the sandbar. 
 
 Just over the edge of the bar, there was a sort of a 
 deep hole and out of it bubbled a big spring. The 
 water bubbled up three or four inches out of the lake 
 
THE SYNDICATE 101 
 
 proper. The waves were very high, but as the wind 
 was blowing toward Ottertail Point, we had no diffi- 
 culty in reaching the Point. When we did get there, 
 we had considerable trouble to find a place to land. 
 The waves were running a perfect millrace around the 
 Point. 
 
 We rounded the Point, and in the quiet water pro- 
 ceeded to look for a place to land, a camping ground 
 for dinner. I was growing hungry and so were a num- 
 ber of the other members. 
 
 We found a small inlet where it was just possible 
 to land, and tied up our boats. I didn't like its looks 
 very much, so cut loose the canoe, and got into it 
 very carefully. I got into the extreme rear end. Of 
 course, that end went down quite a distance and for 
 a moment balanced on the edge of a rock. At that 
 very minute I felt it was time for my hunch to come 
 true about the trim little canoe. I had gotten my 
 feet and legs under the bar that holds that end of 
 the canoe together. About that time, a big wave came 
 rolling in from the Point and over I went. Of course, 
 it wasn't very deep there, and wouldn't have made 
 much difference if it had been, yet, over I went, side 
 and head first, into the cold water of the lake with all 
 my clothes on, and the canoe on top of me. 
 
 At this moment Fred was in plain view upon the 
 bank. I thought he was a friend of mine, and had he 
 fallen in the lake, possibly I would have sprung to his 
 rescue, and yet, probably, under all the circumstances, 
 I would have done the same as he did. 
 
 Well, he stood first on one foot and then the other, 
 and laughed outright at me; and then he called Doc's 
 attention to the affair, and Doc laughed. 
 
 In the meantime I had disengaged myself from 
 the canoe, and not seeing anybody else particularly 
 
102 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 desirous of saving me from the cold water, proceeded 
 to rescue myself. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness," were the words of Fred, "you 
 should have seen the expression on the face of Percy, 
 as he was falling — I can't describe it to you, but I 
 thought I would die a laughing — ha, ha, there he was, 
 in a predicament, as though something was pretty sure 
 to happen, and he couldn't stop it." 
 
 And then the other boats came along and I was in 
 finde shape to help land them,, so my ducking wasn't 
 so bad alter all. 
 
 After landing the boats, I removed all of my cloth- 
 ing, hung it on a limb of a tree to dry, and went for a 
 swim. 
 
 I had a fine time splashing about in the cold water. 
 In the meantime Doc and Charley had prepared a good 
 fish dinner with some fish which had just been caught. 
 I found my big hunting coat and put that on and had 
 a delightful dinner, excepting for the occasional visit 
 of a mosquito. 
 
 We had an exceptional visitor for dinner. This 
 visitor was a peculiar looking grayish brown bird, 
 which hopped into our midst. It was the most familiar 
 of all the wild creatures I had ever met. It hopped 
 on my shoulder, and then on Doc's foot; and then it 
 hopped around and visited all of the members of the 
 Syndicate, and finally hopped on a hot stone and flew 
 away. 
 
 By the time we were ready to fish again my clothing 
 had dried. I was mighty glad of it, as it was blowing 
 cold. 
 
 We fished in the waters around the Point and there 
 caught several fine strings of pike. 
 
 At six o'clock we started for camp, across the wild 
 looking waves. I sat at the wheel of the launch and 
 
THE SYNDICATE 103 
 
 drove the engine, and for about four hours drove into 
 the waves. It was slow, wet and cold work. 
 
 We had a wonderful supper at about eleven o'clock, 
 and then, one by one, crept away to bed, leaving 
 Fred and Doc. Fred had fallen asleep again. After 
 awakening Fred, I started to close up the grub house, 
 and upon knocking the ashes out of my pipe, I found Dr. 
 Leonard had fallen fast asleep in a chair. He had 
 been reading a story, yet sleep had called him, and 
 he was away from the world and all. So, shortly after 
 "waking the boys" and putting them to bed, my hour 
 for getting up came. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 It was six o'clock, August 23rd, 1916, and time to 
 get up. I arose and looked at my watch. It was six 
 o'clock, all right, although it felt like two, yet, there 
 wasn't a member, excepting one, who didn't like to lie 
 abed in the morning, astir. Yes, there was Fred. This 
 morning I again remembered what he had to say about 
 not being able to lie abed in the morning, yet such an 
 expression don't count when a fellow's tired, and the 
 intensity of fishing has worn off a little. For as I 
 finished dressing and looked over the camp, there lay 
 Fred, as peaceful as one could imagine. The angels in 
 heaven, I know, coveted his peace. There he lay asleep; 
 and as far as that is concerned, there lay our dear 
 Doctor, and Clint, and Ira and Charley. They were all 
 sleeping so serenely. Ira had folded himself up like a 
 jackknife, while Charley had failed to remove his hat, 
 or had wilfully kept it upon his head, endeavoring to 
 make it take the place of hair. 
 
104 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Oh, how wonderful is sleep. The greatest gift of 
 all to mankind!" I murmured to myself, as I looked 
 first at one and then the other. 
 
 We live in a busy world. Some folks say, and I 
 believe it is to some extent, that the early bird catches 
 the worm. There are men who must fish; there was 
 the Syndicate, all desiring an early start; there were 
 the early birds; there were folk with a reputation 
 to maintain as early risers — yet, there before me they 
 were sleeping. My keen appreciation of again being 
 up and dressed ahead of Fred prompted me; and then, 
 too, I recalled that he had awakened me at an early 
 hour, so possibly, as the angels in heaven coveted his 
 peaceful sleep — and then, I might have been prompted 
 by another agency. I leaned over his bed, gave him 
 a shake. 
 
 "Mr. Segur," said I with a smile, "will you have your 
 breakfast in bed, or will you come for it?" 
 
 Oh, my goodness, of course he could get up for 
 breakfast, and so he did, and so did the rest of the 
 Syndicate. 
 
 Remus and I left the sleepers to banter over going 
 swimming at the time "when men go in swimming," 
 and prepared a good breakfast. 
 
 We had fresh pike fish, ham and eggs, and oatmeal, 
 coffee and cream, for those who like cream in their 
 coffee and oatmeal; and then, Doc outshined himself 
 on the cakes. We also had a liberal portion of fried 
 potatoes. Outside of that we didn't have very much 
 to eat, excepting, however, I will add in confession that 
 the majority of the members also ate two eggs, and 
 some three. 
 
 After breakfast the Syndicate chided Fred consider- 
 ably about being an early riser and also about per- 
 
THE SYNDICATE 105 
 
 mitting Percy to„ have awakened him for the second 
 time. 
 
 "Well," said Fred, "there is one thing about getting 
 up in the morning, and there's another about going for 
 a dip in the lake at the hour when men go swimming." 
 And Doc, having been bantered by Fred and Clint, 
 just sat still and smiled. 
 
 "Where shall we go today," said Doc, after the Syn- 
 dicate's attention had been called to the fact that Doc, 
 Clint and the rest of them, hadn't gotten up, and that 
 they, and especially Doc, hadn't gone in swimming 
 at the time "when the men went in swimming." 
 
 Somebody said Stony Point, so away we went for 
 that place. 
 
 Mr. Segur took his usual place in the bow of the 
 launch. I drove the engine, and after Mr. Segur had 
 found a cup to drink out of the lake, and had taken 
 his usual drink, we were off on another fishing trip 
 to Stony Point. 
 
 The trip to Stony Point is very similar to that of 
 the trip to Ottertail Point, as it stands directly across 
 the lake from Ottertail Point. 
 
 We arrived there a little before noon. There we 
 found the same old Stony Point as we had left the 
 year before; and the same big stones, standing in 
 the same places. It was very hard to land our boats 
 at this place as there were a number of big rocks 
 a few feet under the water. Nevertheless, we found 
 a satisfactory haven, landed our big boat, and then 
 went for a fish in the canoe and the other two boats. 
 
 In a little while we had plenty of fish. We were 
 going to have a fresh fish dinner; yet, upon looking in 
 our box found that its packers had left out the grease, 
 so we had a meatless dinner. 
 
106 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 After dinner we all fished until we had plenty fish- 
 ing, and then drove back to Walker. 
 
 In Walker we found a letter for each member of 
 the Syndicate, and another awaiting Mr. Segur, writ- 
 ten in green ink. 
 
 In due time we reached camp. There was the usual 
 stir. Clint chopping the wood, Doc starting up the 
 fire, Percy fixing the potatoes, Fred going down to 
 the spring — in fact, everybody was busy. 
 
 A fine dinner was prepared, and after each member 
 eating a great quantity of fish, potatoes, corn on the 
 cob, rutabagas, onions, bread and butter and cucum- 
 bers, he pulled his chair back from the table in a 
 satisfied manner. 
 
 "There was an old Irish woman," said Charley with 
 a smile, as he made himself comfortable and took a 
 puff at a store cigar, "who was returning home with 
 a can of beer. On her way home she was horrified 
 to see the priest. 'And, good avening,' says the priest. 
 'Good avening/ says Mrs. Murphy, as she placed the 
 can of beer under her apron. 'Faith, I pray, you have 
 not a tumor?' said the priest, inquiringly. 'Nay/ said 
 Mrs. Murphy, with a roguish laugh, may, it's no 
 tumor, it's a can, sir.' And then Doc smiled, together 
 with a number of other members. 
 
 "That reminds me," said Doc, with a twinkle in his 
 eye, "Mrs. Murphy's husband was riding home in a 
 street car. On the way home the car went around 
 a curve, and threw Mr. Murphy into the lap of a 
 woman. 'And where do you come from, you rude 
 thing?' 'And sure and,' says he, 'I was born in Cork, 
 Ireland,' taking advantage of an opportunity to speak. 
 'But ye look more like a Laplander to me,' said she." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 107 
 
 And then we sat around the fire, and those who liked 
 to smoke, smoked, and those who enjoyed reading, say, 
 the Ladies' Home Journal, read. 
 
 "What time shall we start tomorrow?" asked Fred. 
 
 "I think," said Remus, with a smile, "that it would 
 be better for some folks to do more getting up, and 
 less talking about it." 
 
 "Well," says Fred, "when I was a boy, about fourteen 
 years old, I was ruined for sleep. I had to get up at 
 four thirty every morning, from the age of fourteen to 
 seventeen; and I've been ruined ever since. Can't lie 
 abed at all in the mornings," reasoned Fred. A number 
 of the members of the Syndicate smiled, while Percy 
 suggested that he did at one time in his life have to get 
 up at four o'clock, yet said that he was still able to 
 sleep. Clint added that he was going to tell a story 
 about getting up early in the morning, but there was 
 no telling where these stories would lead. Mr. Segur 
 then looked very serious and nodded, as if to say, that 
 was the way I had to get up in the morning. 
 
 "Now," says Clint, "I have heard a certain member 
 say: 'Oh, my goodness! I made one suggestion as 
 to where we should go — nobody paid any attention to 
 me; I'll not make another,' so I am going to suggest 
 that tomorrow be Mr. Segur's day. That we get up 
 at whatever hour he desires; go wherever he desires, 
 and fish, or not fish; in other words, tomorrow shall 
 be Mr. Segur's day, and we shall do his bidding." 
 
 "All right," says everybody, excepting Fred, who 
 further suggested that as tomorrow was the last day 
 which Clint could be with us at camp, that this should 
 be his day. To this proposition everybody assented. 
 
 "I suggest for Clint, as he has never been there, 
 that we go to Steamboat Bay and Steamboat Lake," 
 put in Fred. 
 
108 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "All right," said everybody. 
 
 "What time would you suggest we start, Fred, urged 
 Remus. "We want to have tomorrow just right." 
 
 "Let us make a reasonably early start, say as late 
 as four forty-five," said Fred seriously. 
 
 "Four forty-five it is," affirmed Remus with a smile, 
 and four forty-five it was; for Remus and Percy at- 
 tended to that matter. 
 
 After the disposition of such a weighty subject as 
 to time and place, we went to bed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Thursday, August 24th, 1916, began at four forty- 
 five a. m., at our camp. I know it did, as I was there 
 and helped to attend to those little matters. And at 
 that hour in the sleeping camp, there lay the sleepers. 
 They couldn't lie abed in the morning. Of course, they 
 couldn't. Mr. Segur had requested it — and this was 
 Mr. Segur's day. Mr. Segur was sleeping late, yet he 
 had requested that we get out at four forty-five a. m., 
 and we did, and he did. 
 
 Mr. Remus and I hurried over to the grub house 
 and started a fire and breakfast. There was a big 
 bowl of oatmeal for each member of the Synicate, 
 fried fish or a slice of ham, or both; two or three 
 eggs; coffee, with cream or without; and cakes — the 
 kind which Doc used to make. Oh, my! Talk of the 
 things mother used to make. We had the kind of cakes 
 Doc used to make. 
 
 Remus packed the box, Dan put the gasoline in the 
 boats, while Mr. Segur washed the wishes with the 
 assistance of Clint. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 109 
 
 "All right," says Fred, "push us off for Steamboat 
 Bay." 
 
 Steamboat Lake and Steamboat Bay are at the end 
 of another very crooked river, which flows into the 
 extreme end of Sucker Bay. The river is filled most 
 of the way with submarine forests and water lilies. It 
 winds its way into a wilderness. We pass through 
 many acres of wild swamp land; and then, many more 
 of the tall and stately pines. 
 
 "The virgin forest," says Fred, as he pointed off 
 to a huge bunch of sky dusters. 
 
 After we had gone a little way into the crooked 
 river, we found that it was most closed with bog. 
 There was a place, however, about six inches wide, 
 and a few inches deep, which had the appearance of 
 being used as a passage for the canoes of Indians. 
 Into this Doc wedged his boat. The light launch 
 stopped, and it was all hands pull and push. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness! It's a shame. We won't get to 
 fish in Steamboat Bay. Drat that bog. Drat it!" said 
 a certain member of the Syndicate, despairingly. 
 
 "Oh, come on boys," shouted another member. "Just 
 a little more. Now, together," and we pushed. The 
 boat went over the bog, and away we went again. 
 Dan's boat was pushed and pulled through; then came 
 the big launch. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness!" says a certain member of the 
 Syndicate as he pushed and nearly fell in the river. 
 Yet, after about an hour's work we succeeded in travel- 
 ing about a mile and then we met another place where 
 the bog had blocked the channel. We had all of the 
 work to do over again. 
 
 For professional purposes, possibly, after it was 
 satisfactorily done, Doc was very careful about one 
 
110 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 thing — that is, he left his card sticking on a log along 
 the side of the bog. 
 
 We then sailed up the river for three hours and a 
 half, and enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the North- 
 land wilds. There we saw a lot of wild game, wild 
 ducks, geese and cranes. The air was simply filled 
 with flying birds of various species. 
 
 We reached Steamboat Bay and camped on the 
 shore not far from a sawmill. There we tied our big 
 boat, and went frogging for bait. 
 
 We met a young man by the name of Oscar, whose 
 parents had ventured into the country in a sawmill 
 enterprise. 
 
 We soon caught plenty of frogs and went for a 
 fish. We didn't find fishing very good. The water 
 was too rough; yet Dan came in for dinner with a 
 pike twenty-seven inches long and weighing six and 
 one-half pounds. It looked to me like it ought to have 
 weighed more, yet that was the weight on the fish 
 scales. It made a dandy meal for the Syndicate. Dan 
 kept the head and said that he would mount it. 
 
 Oscar took dinner with us. After dinner he went 
 for a fish with Doc and Clint. We fished until four 
 o'clock and caught enough for our own use, but had 
 no particular luck. None of us caught any big ones 
 like Dan. And this, notwithstanding the fact that Mr. 
 Segur fished hard and consistently all the rest of the 
 afternoon. 
 
 Our homeward trip was pleasant until we came to 
 the narrow passage. There we found the card of 
 Doc still untouched — and doubtless it is there yet, ad- 
 vising the world that he was there. 
 
 After reaching the mouth of the river we steered 
 out into the big lake, and passed around Minnesota 
 
THE SYNDICATE 111 
 
 Island. It was the long way around, and the waves 
 rolled mighty high. Still Charley said this is the bet- 
 ter way, as it would be mighty easy to lose your way 
 among the islands and bog; and you might have to 
 go back and start out again. So we took the long way 
 home, and here the long way around proved to be the 
 shorter way home. 
 
 Our boat reached home a long time before any of 
 the rest of the boats. 
 
 After we had supper about prepared we heard the 
 motor of Doc and in a little while our alarm was eased 
 about Doc and Clint. 
 
 "Doc says," shouted Clint, with a smile, "Sir Henry 
 Hudson discovered Hudson Bay, so why can't we dis- 
 cover the shorter way home. And we did, but you'd 
 have to walk a part of the way. We got tied up in the 
 bog and had to make a clean start in our discovery." 
 
 We all gave a hand and pulled Doc's boat up for 
 the night. Remus and Dan had gone to look for the 
 shorter route, the same as Clint and Doc suggested — 
 one shorter than Doc expected to discover. We had 
 anticipated Dan and Remus would be the first ones 
 home. 
 
 Fred kept himself very busy going from the spring 
 to the grub house and then to the dock, looking for 
 the absent members. 
 
 "I think," said Fred, "we had better send out a 
 scouting party in search of Dan and Remus. 
 
 "I hear their motor," said Percy, having gotten 
 Fred to keep still for a moment, "and they are about 
 twenty-five minutes away. They sound like they are 
 right over there back of the railroad bridge. They'll 
 have to go back, that will take them about twenty min- 
 utes, so I expect them in forty-five minutes." I added 
 
112 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 as I listened to the noise of the engine. It gradually 
 grew fainter and then grew louder and louder. In the 
 course of about forty-five minutes we sighted them 
 in the bay. 
 
 "Everything's all right, here come Dan and Remus," 
 cried Fred joyously; and then the busybodies hurried 
 supper. 
 
 "Well," said Remus, "we were looking for the short 
 way home — and found it. Yet, there we were, just a 
 little way from the railroad bridge, and stopped by 
 a strip of about twenty-five feet. What? Dinner 
 ready? Good. We are ready for it." 
 
 We all sat down to a dinner of fried fresh fish — 
 nice big steaks of pike, which were boneless — boiled 
 potatoes, beets, tomatoes, rutabagas, boiled onions and 
 a salad of sliced cucumbers and lettuce. To this we 
 added hot biscuits with good butter; and, for those 
 who liked to drink good fresh sweet milk, milk; and 
 coffee for those who liked to drink coffee. 
 
 After dinner the Syndicate pushed their chairs back. 
 Fred found the Ladies' Home Journal, and the other 
 members their pipes and tobacco. 
 
 "My, what a dandy day! 'Tis the end of a perfect 
 day for sure," said Percy. "Yet there is one sad 
 thing about it; our good friend, Clint, is going to leave 
 tomorrow." 
 
 "Well," said Clint, "I dislike to go, as I have had 
 such a good time — every minute of it. Before I go, 
 however, I want to appoint a successor to my official 
 capacity. Gentlemen, as I leave camp tomorrow, and 
 the official position of wood chopper, I want to appoint 
 Percy to do my chopping in my stead. He is such a 
 good, husky fellow, and the logs are now getting big 
 and hard to chop." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 113 
 
 At this point there was a young man named Percy, 
 who didn't relish the wood chopping job. To speak the 
 whole truth and nothing but the truth, he was longing 
 for a life-saver, and as is generally the case with a 
 man who had rather do something else, when he is 
 about to be thrust into a laborsome job, somebody 
 came to his rescue. 
 
 "No! Oh, no!" shouted Remus. 
 
 "Thank you, Remus, my heart goes out to you," 
 urged Percy. 
 
 "He's the cook, and in that capacity does so well, 
 that I think he had better keep his old job, and not 
 be promoted to the official undertaking of keeping the 
 woodbox." So I was refused admission into that .clan 
 and permitted by force of circumstances and choice 
 to cook. 
 
 Mr. Stephenson put a light to his pipe, and the bal- 
 ance of the crowd found a seat. 
 
 "It must be very interesting, Mr. Stephenson, to turn 
 the wheels of time back upon Kansas City and those 
 who tended to make it — how the old town must have 
 changed since you were a boy" ventured an inquisitive 
 member. 
 
 "Yes," answered Clint, and then he struck another 
 match. "It has changed a heap, indeed." 
 
 Then Mr. Stephenson named over a whole host of 
 dignitaries of Kansas City forty years ago. 
 
 "And what has become of these good folk," asked 
 Percy. 
 
 "Gone! All gone," was the reply. 
 
 "Were you in Kansas City during the war?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Indeed I was — a boy, selling papers. During that 
 time I saw a lot of things. That reminds me: during 
 the battle of Westport, I think, in 1864, when Price 
 
114 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 made his raid on Westport, I was peddling papers on 
 the street. The post commander there in Kansas City- 
 had rented an emergency hospital at Fifth and Main 
 Streets — the place occupied by the Hub Clothing Com- 
 pany. I was present when they drove up there with 
 a load of wounded soldiers. Two I noticed were badly 
 wounded. One shot in the leg, and the other in the 
 eye. The attending surgeon examined the man shot 
 in the leg and told him that his wound didn't amount 
 to much and that he would have to wait his time. 
 He then turned to the other man, who was shot in the 
 eye, and examined him. He asked him his name, where 
 he lived, and to what company he belonged. He then 
 dressed his wound and told him that under the cir- 
 cumstances it would not be possible for him to live 
 very long. The ambulance, or wagon, drove up with 
 a lot of others — and away things went. 
 
 "About the end of the war two of Quantrell's men 
 crossed the river, at some point south of the mouth 
 of the Kaw, rode over to Wyandotte, and stopped at 
 a barber shop on Minnesota Avenue. They put their 
 revolvers under the chair. About that time a number 
 of soldiers passed by on the outside, and some of 
 them, noticing that there were revolvers under the 
 chair, came in to investigate. They arrested the two 
 men, brought them to Kansas City. They confessed 
 they were bushwhackers; were court-martialed and 
 hanged a few days after that from a scaffold located 
 in the vicinity of the ground now occupied by Con- 
 vention Hall. 
 
 "Another rather amusing incident, that happened 
 during the war: Doctor Ridge and another prominent 
 physician, who were considered at that time Southern 
 sympathizers, cheered for Jeff Davis,. Some soldiers, 
 passing at the time, arrested them. They were taken 
 
THE SYNDICATE 115 
 
 to the military jail— then located at Tenth and Broad- 
 way, where the Coates House now stands. The next 
 day they were tried before the post commander, and 
 on account of their being physicians, and rather than 
 make the punishment too severe, decided that the 
 best way to punish them was to send them to the 
 woodpile to saw wood, while a burly negro soldier stood 
 by and bossed the job. They sawed the wood, all right, 
 but this was the last time they ever cheered in public 
 for Jeff Davis. The Ridge family might now deny 
 this affair, but I was a boy and saw the whole affair, 
 and I presume it was far better to saw wood under a 
 negro boss than to be hanged." 
 
 "Possibly," said one of the listeners. 
 
 "And then there was another amusing affair — con- 
 cerning John C. Gage, a lawyer, who is now dead. 
 It was one of his first murder cases. There was a 
 scouting party — at that time Kansas City and its 
 vicinity was under martial law — and all of the per- 
 sons seeking protection under the United States Gov- 
 ernment were required to call at the post commander's 
 office and register their names, and those who didn't 
 were told to leave. Among those who registered was 
 an Irishman, who lived on Cherry Street, north of In- 
 dependence Avenue. His horses strayed off one even- 
 ing, and early the next morning he found them out 
 on Independence Avenue, in the vicinity about where 
 Billy Sunday had his tabernacle. While he was 
 running his horses, he was met by this posse of soldiers, 
 and they inquired where he got his horses. And he, 
 feeling that it didn't concern them, made no reply. 
 One of the soldiers shot him, and he fell dead. He 
 was immediately buried — without coroner's inquest or 
 anything — and then the citizens stirred up a great 
 howdy-do about it. The soldier, who had done the 
 
116 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 shooting, was brought before the post commander and 
 tried for murder. John Gage defended him and de- 
 murred to the evidence — on account of the evidence not 
 proving that a man had been killed — in that proof of 
 the corpus delicti had not been presented; there hav- 
 ing been no coroner's inquest, the evidence before the 
 court did not show that a live man had not been 
 buried. 
 
 "This was a fiction of the law, but it was enough 
 for the post commander to sustain the demurrer, which 
 was offered by Mr. Gage. The demurrer being sus- 
 tained, the prisoner was discharged. John Gage said 
 that sometime afterwards, the soldier got some money 
 from his folk, fifty dollars, to be paid to Gage for legal 
 services rendered, but that the soldier told John that he 
 was so hard up that he believed he would just keep 
 it and send it to him later. John Gage vowed that 
 he certainly must have been a rascal, and, possibly, 
 should have been hanged, as he never did pay the fifty 
 dollars for legal services rendered." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 117 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Friday, the 25th day of August, 1916, brought a 
 cold, gloomy morning. At six o'clock sharp two tall 
 and reasonably plump individuals crawled out of a 
 pair of warm blankets and dressed. After they had 
 dressed they looked over the camp. There were the 
 sleeping beauties, the buzz-buzz boys, sleeping peace- 
 fully. There were no more early risers. 
 
 It was no longer the duty of the Syndicate to awaken 
 the sun in and about Kabekona and possibly that oc- 
 casioned the gloomy day. 
 
 Remus and Percy were the only two astir about 
 the camp. They started the fire, and cooked break- 
 fast. At seven thirty, breakfast, and a good one, was 
 awaiting the Syndicate. 
 
 I don't remember whether anybody bantered any- 
 body about going in swimming that morning or not, 
 but as I recall, all was peaceful and still, excepting 
 for the buzz-buzz of the sleepers until the call for 
 breakfast was sounded. 
 
 Then the Syndicate held a very important meeting, 
 and Ira Pettibone was chosen wood chopper, to. fill the 
 vacancy, which would be occasioned by the departure 
 of Clint. 
 
 Mr. Pettibone and I had a shooting match. Remus 
 succeeded in putting three bullet holes out of five 
 through the bottom of a "certain tin can," to the 
 entire satisfaction of Ira and the balance of the Syndi- 
 cate. Mr. Pettibone and I were able to throw a shotgun 
 shell into the air, pick up the gun off the ground and 
 hit the shell before it hit the ground. 
 
 Clint packed his fishing clothes, etc., and put on his 
 regular wear, and we had with us — in the words of the 
 
118 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 immortal Doc — "Mr. DeWitte Clinton Stephenson." To 
 be honest with each other, we most felt we had a 
 stranger in our midst, yet good clothes merely covered 
 the good man, and in a little while we saw the same 
 Clint, with his pleasant face, and paid no further at- 
 tention to the outward wear, excepting to put Ira to 
 work in his new official capacity. 
 
 A considerable time was consumed in expressing the 
 regrets of the Syndicate to a man of the departure of 
 our friend Clint. 
 
 "Well," says Clint Stephenson, "it is all up to Remus," 
 and Remus vowed that it was all up to somebody else 
 — Clint being in the same department of the railroad 
 as was Remus. 
 
 At four o'clock we loaded our boats and started our 
 motor for Walker. The air was fresh and there was 
 such a gale blowing that we had to hug the shore. 
 
 On our way to Walker we beheld the most beautiful 
 rainbow I have ever seen. One point touched Morris 
 Point, the other Sucker Bay. As we motored near 
 Morris Point the rainbow disappeared, yet there still 
 lingered considerable of its coloring. 
 
 We loafed about Walker, and dined at the "Ain't 
 Got No Ham and Eggs Inn," or the restaurant across 
 the railroad track from the station. We enjoyed the 
 dinner. Some of us ordered milk. The waiter brought 
 us a liquid which had every appearance of being milk, 
 excepting for the taste. We ordered steak and got 
 something which resembled leather. 
 
 "Doc," says Fred, after a spell of profound medita- 
 tion, "does it make any difference to our stomachs, 
 after we have eaten the steak, whether the steak was 
 nice and tender or like this?" 
 
 "That's quite a deep question, but I am rather in- 
 clined to think that it does. At any rate it makes a 
 
THE SYNDICATE 119 
 
 difference with my stomach," vowed Doc. Then fol- 
 lowed the various pros, and likewise as many cons, 
 until the question was thoroughly settled. 
 
 After dinner we went to the bowling alley. Clint 
 and I played. Mr. Stephenson bowled his first game, 
 and to make the match even I used my left hand. He 
 beat me the first game, the second I won, and then I 
 won the rubber with my left hand. Of course, Doc 
 and Fred had to get into the game, and for a little 
 while things livened up in Walker; and then Doc and 
 Fred decided we were staying too late in town, and 
 that possibly we were having too wild a night, so we 
 went to the dock; and there we all told our friend 
 Clint good-bye, after giving him the various messages 
 to deliver. 
 
 Fred was first to get into the launch. He cranked 
 the motor until he was tired. There was a "do-dad" 
 which would not work, so he turned the job over to 
 me. I found the carburetor was filled with water. I 
 emptied it, and away we steered from Walker. 
 
 Charley was in the front seat of the launch. I was 
 at the engine and wheel. Fred, Doc and Ira were as- 
 sorted according to weight, and all proceeded to direct 
 the boat in a different way home. The pilot was 
 somewhat obstinate and steered straight for home. 
 
 Upon arrival each member of the crew vowed that 
 his way was the best way. We reached home at eleven 
 o'clock. We were all cold and sat about the fire for 
 about an hour or so. Finally the fire went out, the 
 new wood chopper hadn't been permanently installed. 
 
 The night was cold and clear, the Syndicate, to a 
 man, was fast asleep. 
 
120 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 We went to sleep with nothing particular on our 
 minds — excepting a certain member of the Syndicate. 
 He was dark and browned now with the summer 
 sun — strong and well. While he was tired, yet his 
 fancy brought him back to a time when he did not 
 sleep alone, in a sleeping bag in the wilds of Min- 
 nesota. To the rich base snores which floated about 
 camp he could easily imagine, and in a dreamlike 
 fancy hear the roll of the deep notes of the organ, see 
 the brightly lighted church, some sad and some smiling 
 faces; recall a good man's voice: "Do you take this 
 woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" For yester- 
 day was his wedding anniversary. 
 
 Morning came the same this morning as it did on 
 the 26th day of August, now a good many years ago, 
 to Percy Field, and doubtless the same to a good many 
 more of the Syndicate, yet when he awoke he saw 
 new faces and new surroundings. He was alone, but 
 still with his companions. Some of them were covered 
 with blankets, even though it was six o'clock, and 
 some of them couldn't lie abed in the morning — espe- 
 cially after four o'clock. Fred had been awakened, 
 however, possibly by an inner conscience, and had 
 stepped outside for a moment. Thus, finding every- 
 body asleep, I thought it would be a downright shame 
 to awaken the sleepers, so I laid down and took a 
 nap. 
 
 I awoke and found Charley awake, but the rest of 
 the crowd were asleep and seemed to be enjoying their 
 snooze, for there was the usual buzz. 
 
 Remus, however, got up, leaving the rest of the crowd 
 to delve in dreamland. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 121 
 
 I was brought from the land of dreams by five dis- 
 tinct shots from his revolver. This thoroughly awak- 
 ened me. I dressed and found that I was up in plenty 
 of time to get breakfast. 
 
 After breakfast Fred and Charley washed dishes and 
 then Mr. Segur sat down, and started to read some- 
 thing. He didn't sit there but a little while until he 
 fell asleep. 
 
 "Hey, there, Fred," shouted Remus, as he discovered 
 Fred asleep. "Why don't you do your sleeping before 
 breakfast, or at night? Here you are beginning the 
 day cheating on Percy." 
 
 Fred stretched himself, yawned, and started to go 
 back to sleep, evidently not hearing all that had been 
 said. 
 
 "Wake up, Fred. Don't you know what bumpers 
 are made for?" continued Remus, adding, "why aren't 
 you up and doing, like the rest of us fellows?" 
 
 "Well," says Fred, "this is the first time I have sat 
 down since I have been here. No matter what happens 
 I get jumped on by all of you. By dig, you haven't 
 prepared the grub box yet, and I don't know what I 
 can do." 
 
 "Well," said Remus, with a smile and a roll of his 
 eyes, and a wink at Percy. "You might try doing that 
 once, and see how much we care." Fred jumped up 
 and most knocked the house down as he went tramping 
 around the grub house. 
 
 The lunch box was packed this morning in a hurry. 
 Everything was in readiness. Mr. Segur had taken 
 his usual place in the bow of the launch and his usual 
 drink out of the lake. I was sitting at the engine. 
 Then followed the regular morning wait. Doc had per- 
 mitted the milk boy to take his boat across the bay, 
 with instructions to bring it back immediately. The 
 
122 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 milk boy evidently having another notion of what Doc 
 meant, was seen a long way off, riding about as though 
 that was all he had to do. Doc then conducted himself 
 in a very noisy manner, and went through a heap of 
 gyrations which were used to attract the attention 
 of the boy, and amuse the Syndicate. The milk boy 
 probably had something else on his mind and proceeded 
 to take a joy ride, as expressed by Fred. 
 
 In the course of a half hour the boy came in, and 
 with him his usual innocent smile. He suggested that 
 the engine was working very well. 
 
 Doc started to load his boat in a hurry. He was 
 standing with one foot on the dock, and the other on 
 the boat when he dropped his tackle box into the 
 bottom of his boat. 
 
 "Ill say it for you, Doc," interrupted Remus. 
 
 "Yes, let me," added Charley. 
 
 But Doc never said a word, just went on picking up 
 the hooks. 
 
 "Where shall we go," seemed to shout everybody, 
 as Doc pulled the last fish hook out of his thumb 
 Without saying anything. 
 
 "Durant Bay," shouted somebody. So to Durant 
 Bay we headed our boats. 
 
 As we were motoring out into the midst of the big 
 lake, and the cool fresh air began to strike us, and 
 the large waves began to toss our boat, Percy felt so 
 good he couldn't control himself, and sang: 
 
 "We're on our way to Durant Bay — 
 There the pike fish play. 
 Freddie will catch a fish, 
 'Twill be everybody's wish. 
 
 In Durant Bay, 
 Where the big pike fish play." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 123 
 
 The waves were rolling high, yet they were with 
 us, so they only gave us good speed. Ira was with 
 us, and with Ira went the pretty little canoe. Every 
 time I would look at it I could hear something say, 
 "beware!" 
 
 Now the way to Durant Bay is through the Nar- 
 rows, passing Squaw Point, passing Pine Point, and 
 on down the big lake, about five or six miles beyond 
 Stony Point. This is the longest trip we could pos- 
 sibly take, yet the Syndicate, care free, started it at 
 the late hour of nine o'clock, or after Mr. Segur had 
 his morning nap. 
 
 When we got about the middle of the big lake, 
 between Stony Point, Pine Point and Ottertail Point, 
 the pretty little canoe sank. Then followed a skirmish 
 to see which would right itself, the big launch or the 
 pretty little canoe. Finally with considerable exertion 
 — and some instruction on behalf of Mr. Segur — we 
 succeeded in raising the canoe and were on our way 
 very cheerily. 
 
 We reached a camping place on Durant Bay about 
 two o'clock. The grub box was landed and a fire 
 built. 
 
 Doc and Charley had been missing during the first 
 part of the preparation for dinner. 
 
 "Hello, Doc," shouted Remus from the bank, as Doc 
 turned his boat toward the shore. 
 
 "Have you got any fish," shouted Remus. 
 
 "Narry a one," shouted Doc with a smile. 
 
 "Now don't that beat us? We have no meat and 
 no fish," Remus said with a tinge of disappointment 
 as Fred went to take a long look into the bay. 
 
 In a little while we landed the boat of Doc, and Doc 
 pulled from the side of his boat a wonderfully fine 
 string of pike. 
 
124 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Where did you catch 'em?" etc. was drowned by 
 the suggestion, I will take these and prepare them for 
 dinner. Thus we had meat and plenty of it, nice fresh 
 pike steaks. 
 
 Oh, how extravagant we were with our meat — it 
 always is the case. We took several large pike fish, 
 cut the skin down the center of the back on each side 
 of the vertabrae, around the gills and on each side of 
 the breast bone, skinned the fish, and then cut the 
 steak out of each side of the back. This piece of meat 
 was generally about a foot long, an inch and a half to 
 two inches wide and three-fourths of an inch thick. It 
 was free from bones. The rest of the fish we buried. 
 
 "Doc," said Fred, with considerable sternness to 
 his voice, "it will take a half hour to cook that fish — 
 plague take it. I came here to fish." 
 
 Yet, of course, dinner had to be cooked and time 
 had to be taken to eat it. Fred contented himself for 
 the time being only, but hurried through the meal, took 
 a drink of water out of the lake, stood on the bank 
 and seemed very despondent. Of course he wasn't 
 fishing, yet there were fish all around him. He had a 
 good stomach full and there still remained on the 
 fish string of Doc and Charley enough pike for the whole 
 crowd to have pike steak for two additional meals. 
 
 "Yes," said Percy to himself, "some folk are 'niver' 
 satisfied," as he helped put the grub box into the 
 launch. 
 
 Remus and Charley were still sitting on the bank 
 near the place where dinner was served. 
 
 "You haven't cooked enough bacon," said Charley, 
 looking at Remus. 
 
 "Well," said Remus, "don't look at me as if to 
 • accuse me of being a cook. I was discharged as a 
 
THE SYNDICATE 125 
 
 cook by Fred. He said I took too much time, anyhow. 
 If you want any more, ask Fred to cook it." 
 
 "Daresn't," replied Charley, with smile and a wink. 
 
 Fred had gone for another drink out of the bay. 
 
 "Well," said somebody, "there's Fred drinking again. 
 My, but he's a hard drinker." 
 
 "Yes, it's a wonder he doesn't turn into a fish, he 
 likes them so, and he most breathes the water." 
 
 Doc started a discussion about the subject of almon- 
 ers. Remus thanked Percy for inquiring as to its 
 particular meaning. 
 
 "It is a giver of good; the doer of good. It comes 
 from the idea of giving alms. Yet the thing which is 
 given does not necessarily have to be alms. The 
 doing of a good deed, in a way, would cause a person 
 to be an almoner. So we should all try to be almoners," 
 philosophized Doc. 
 
 "By dig," said Fred, slightly vexed, "what in the 
 world has alms got to do with a fishing party, anyway ? 
 Ain't you fellows going fishing? By dig, I can smoke 
 a pipe at home; but when I come this far, I want to 
 fish. Now won't somebody go fishing with me?" 
 
 "Well," said Remus, "come along with me." 
 
 So Remus, Dan and Fred went for a fish; and Char- 
 ley, Doc and Clint went in another boat, leaving Ira 
 and I to fish from the canoe. 
 
 "What time shall we go home," was asked. 
 
 "Oh, any time," shouted Doc. 
 
 And any time it was. It didn't make much differ- 
 ence. We didn't have any engagement after supper; 
 we didn't have any cooks who would be vexed at our 
 being late; we didn't have any supper awaiting us; 
 we had brought cooks and supper with us. We had 
 no one to disappoint. We were care free, so any time 
 was everybody's time. It was vacation time, that's all. 
 
126 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 The Magawot, the largest passenger boat upon the 
 lake, was anchored some distance up the bay. They 
 had brought a party of city folk to Durant Bay to fish. 
 
 They were fishing according to the suggestions of 
 the guides who were rowing the various boats. They 
 were catching some fish. 
 
 The other two boats pulled off and left Ira and I. 
 We took the launch and made a tour of Durant Bay, 
 and then headed our boat for Pelican Island. We then 
 turned toward the extreme southern portion of Bear 
 Island, a considerable distance east and south. We 
 had gotten a number of miles from our camp and 
 quite a distance out into the big lake when we looked 
 back toward the place where we had camped and saw 
 a huge black cloud coming directly toward us. The 
 cloud seemed to be filled with wind and as it approached 
 it gave a hissing sound. It was as black as ink and 
 blowing directly off shore. In a little while the storm 
 was upon us. As it approached we got into our rubber 
 boots and oilskin clothing and in this way were pro- 
 tected from the lash of the waves. The waves grew 
 angry and seemed to roll with an awful churn. 
 
 We headed our boat toward Durant Bay, and in the 
 course of a half hour drove into shelter of the shore. 
 We drove up to the Magawot and asked the red-faced 
 captain how much he would charge to tow us to Walker. 
 The captain said that the fishing party had chartered 
 the boat; thought that about twelve dollars would be 
 very reasonable and that possibly they would want to 
 charge us fifteen dollars. I suggested something like 
 two dollars, and no dicker was made. The fishing party 
 and the Magawot seemed to be afraid to remain in 
 that portion of the water any longer and pulled out 
 and left us to wrestle with the storm and waves. Down 
 
THE SYNDICATE 127 
 
 the black cloud scooped upon us. Oh, how the lake did 
 boil; how the breakers did roll. 
 
 We found shelter near the shore and in a little 
 while the storm passed over and left the sun shining 
 very bright and warm. 
 
 With the sunshine there came a rainbow. It was 
 the most beautiful I have ever seen. It began in a 
 portion of the lake near Bear Island, followed a circular 
 path in the horizon and sky until it buried itself upon 
 Ottertail Point. There was a rainbow v/ithin a rainbow. 
 All of the colors were distinguishable in both of the 
 gigantic bows. 
 
 "Isn't this a wonderful country," suggested Ira. 
 "How grand it is to be here; to be away from civiliza- 
 tion; to enjoy the life of the wild." 
 
 "Yes," said Percy. "This is God's great out-of-doors; 
 it is the answer to the call of the wild. We speak of 
 civilization and progress, and with it we have the 
 rumble of the great cities. We speak of industry, and 
 with it we have unceasing labor, misery and strife. 
 Of course, happiness follows in its wake, yet do you 
 think that we, in our higher state of civilization, are 
 happier than the primitive Indians were here? Does 
 progress advance our happiness?" 
 
 "It is indeed a wonderful place. There is a question 
 as to whether progress is an advancement toward 
 happiness," added Ira. "Oh, my, how easy it would 
 be to drop out of the world. It looks like if anybody 
 would want to hide themselves from the world, it 
 would be very easy to come here and be away from 
 everybody," added Ira. And then we talked of the 
 various universities, the things we did while attending 
 school, he at Wisconsin University and I at Yale. 
 Some of the books we had read, and some of the things 
 we had done in our effort to gain an education. And 
 
128 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 then we turned to our sport. We caught a number 
 of good sized pike. 
 
 The waves were rolling very high and it was grow- 
 ing late. We had lost trace of the boat of Dan, Remus 
 and Fred. They were somewhere on the big lake. 
 We were alarmed over the situation. I had not seen 
 them since the storm. We motored from the extreme 
 end of Durant Bay to Stony Point, yet no sign of them 
 could we find. Thinking that they would return to 
 camp after they had got tired of fishing, we tied up 
 our launch and fished again from the canoe. It was 
 great sport riding the rollers. I paddled and Ira 
 trolled. 
 
 The sky grew gradually darker and we began to feel 
 alone on the big lake. We divided ourselves into 
 scouting parties. We again motored to the extreme 
 end of Durant Bay, and there we found Dan, Fred 
 and Remus serenely fishing. What cared they for 
 camp and for supper; what cared they for the high 
 rolling waves and the rough road to Kabekona Bay. 
 The fish were biting. They had a wonderful string 
 of beautiful pike. They were having such a good time 
 and Fred was realizing his fondest ambitions. 
 
 "Ah! Isn't that a wonderful string," said Fred, as 
 he lifted a portion of his string of pike from the side 
 of his boat and smiled. 
 
 "Come on, boys, it's time to go," shouted Doc. It 
 was time to go, and past the time. 
 
 "You can go if you want to, but we are going to 
 fish some more," shouted Fred. "This is Remus and 
 Dan's last day. You go on and get supper and we 
 will be there in a little while." 
 
 "All right," said Doc. "Don't stay too late, because 
 it looks like we were going to have another storm." 
 
THE SYNDICATE 129 
 
 We had been fishing on the lee side of the lake 
 and did not appreciate the size of the waves and sea. 
 
 We tied Doc's boat on behind the launch and the 
 canoe on behind Doc's boat. Ira rode in the canoe. It 
 was splash, splash, splash for the next four hours. 
 We were standing on first one end and then the other. 
 I ran the engine and Charley pumped the water out 
 of the launch. He was busy doing that all the time. 
 It took us a half hour to round Stony Point. When 
 we got on the outside of Stony Point the full sea struck 
 us. I had to cut down the power to almost nothing in 
 order to live in the high waters. We headed for the 
 Onigum cutoff. 
 
 Now this cutoff or channel lays at the extreme end 
 of a very large bay, which is made by the promontories 
 of Pine Point and Stony Point, and down this bay the 
 wind was coming at a terrific pace. The channel lead- 
 ing to Onigum Bay is to some extent hidden by a 
 marshy growth. It is hard to find in the daytime, and 
 when the sun is shining. Charley steered the boat and 
 between us we located the channel safely, just as the 
 sun sank behind the major portion of the ground that 
 forms itself into Pine Point. Upon reaching the chan- 
 nel I had to get out and push the boat over the sand- 
 bar. My, but the water was cold and the back lash 
 of the big waves ran over the top of my rubber boots. 
 I then had to hang over the end of the motor and take 
 the weeds off of the propeller. In order to do this I 
 had to remove my oil coat, my hunting coat and my 
 woolen shirt, as I had to get quite a distance under 
 the water. Every now and then a swell would come 
 into the channel from the lake and strike us. We 
 then wormed our way through the inlet and headed 
 for the canal at the extreme end of Onigum Bay. 
 
130 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 On our way we passed an Indian village and the 
 Indian burial ground. 
 
 We then headed our boats for Walker. We reached 
 Walker safely, got the mail and started for camp. We 
 reached camp at 10 o'clock. Yes, tired — dog tired; 
 frozen to the bone. We all pitched in, made a fire 
 and started dinner. Everything was in a whizz, and 
 at eleven-thirty in plunged Remus, Dan and Fred, 
 hungry, tired, cold and wet. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness, I believe I am going to have a 
 chill," shouted Fred. 
 
 "Throw a little more wood into the fire," shouted 
 Remus. "I believe that stove is packed with ice," 
 spoke Remus as he warmed his numb hands. 
 
 "Supper is ready, everybody," said Percy. "Come 
 on, Fred can wash the dishes, it will warm his hands 
 a bit." 
 
 We sat down to a supper of fresh pike steak, eggs, 
 two and three apiece, as well as a big bowl of oatmeal, 
 potatoes, rutabagas, cucumbers, and for dessert we 
 had pears which Doc had purchased while in Walker. 
 
 '"Did you see the northern lights," asked Doc, as we 
 all pulled a chair back from the table. "They were the 
 most beautiful I have ever seen in my life. I never saw 
 Aurora Borealis as wonderful even in Alaska. Let's 
 go out and see them, boys." 
 
 And there, upon stepping outside of our grub house, 
 we saw the most wonderful phenomena I have ever 
 witnessed in my life. There were huge search lights 
 shooting from the horizon to the top of the heavens. 
 The sky seemed to be filled with shafts of light which 
 were constantly playing upon the heavens, and then 
 there were curtains of light which shot from the hori- 
 zon to a point above us. It made a huge chandelier 
 
THE SYNDICATE 131 
 
 in the shape of a drinking glass, which hung over the 
 entire country. 
 
 As these lights fell upon the various clouds in the 
 sky the clouds were colored, some dark blue, indigo, 
 purple. There were some silver lined clouds and gold 
 as well. 
 
 "Isn't this wonderful!" proclaimed all who were 
 present. 
 
 "The people used to think a long time ago that these 
 lights: were caused by a reflection of light from the 
 icebergs of the north, but now feel positively that it is 
 an electrical display," explained Doc. 
 
 "Yes," said Percy, "there are a lot of other things 
 we are going to find out about this old world as time 
 goes on." 
 
 "And this Northern light made it so light on the lake 
 that we could see our way home," said Ira. "The power 
 of this light is indeed very wonderful." 
 
 "By dig," said Mr. Segur, "I am going to have to go 
 in and sit by the fire, or I'll have a chill sure." 
 
 Dan's teeth were chattering and the whole crowd 
 were nearly frozen. We went into the grub house and 
 gathered about the fire. Fred again fell asleep with 
 the Ladies Home Journal before him. Remus and Dan 
 were busy preparing a number of fish to take home with 
 them, so Fred slept on. As we went over to the sleep- 
 ing cottage we took a farewell look at the Northern 
 lights and went to bed and to sleep. 
 
132 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 The morning of August twenty-seventh, nineteen 
 sixteen, came as usual, but it didn't find anybody astir 
 about the camp at an early hour. Thank goodness! 
 Getting up was postponed until eight thirty. Remus, 
 however, got up at six o'clock and started breakfast. 
 He did the dishes; the New England conscience of my 
 friend Fred was indeed faint last night in its chiding. 
 This service was indeed thankfully received. 
 
 Here I want to extend to Remus my heartfelt thanks, 
 and the thanks of the Syndicate. God bless him for 
 his kindness. 
 
 I busied myself with the cooking and serving. In a 
 little while a large breakfast was consumed — yet, with 
 it, a little philosophy. Fred sat himself comfortably at 
 the table. He was reading the paper. I took a hand- 
 kerchief, put it on my head, found a piece of an old 
 sheet and made an apron and skirt. 
 
 "Fred! You brute! Here you are reading the paper 
 at the breakfast table," I cried, in the shrill feminine 
 voice. 
 
 "That's all you think of me," again I shouted, as I 
 threw the dishpan to the floor and started a torrent of 
 tears. 
 
 "Gee, Percy!" said Remus, with a smile. "You cer- 
 tainly played that part well. Ha, ha!" 
 
 "And how did you know I played it so well, Remus?" 
 
 "Well," said Fred, with a smile, "this is the first time 
 in thirty-six years, this New Year's; the Missus never 
 would stand for it." 
 
 Charley suggested it was not like that at his house. 
 He further suggested that there was a general rush 
 for the paper in the morning. Ira, being a bachelor, 
 
THE SYNDICATE 133 
 
 raised under such pleasant environment, I fear the 
 philosophy of my play will go with him a secret to the 
 grave. 
 
 "That was a dandy story of Mr. Stephenson's," said I. 
 
 "Oh, yes, said Remus. "It started out all right, but, 
 pray forgive me, I fell asleep before he got to the 
 point. Tell it to me again, Percy — " 
 
 "Oh, yes, it was about a couple sixty-nine or seventy; 
 oh, yes, getting married." 
 
 "Sixty-nine or seventy, getting married," put in 
 Fred, looking very serious. 
 
 "A couple sixty-nine or seventy," shouted Remus. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness!" cried Fred. 
 
 "Doc, what under the sun do folks that age get mar- 
 ried for, anyhow?" 
 
 Doc cleared his throat, looked very dignified and 
 smiled, and, fearing that Doc might make the matter 
 too plain for explanation later, as doctors generally do, 
 I added the complexity of the legal profession by say- 
 ing: "Companionship." 
 
 "That's it! Companionship! What a wonderful 
 state; what a wonderful word — companionship." 
 
 Doc then read us a thorough lecture on the state and 
 the word. 
 
 "Yet, with all of that, I have my doubts," suggested 
 Charley. 
 
 "Well, why do folks get married, anyway?" asked 
 Fred. 
 
 "Well," says Doc, "let us put it this way: Why 
 shouldn't we marry? Some folk get married for one 
 purpose and some another, but, be whatever their pur- 
 pose may, it should be their ultimate aim to come into 
 a closer relation with the soul of the feminine com- 
 panion which is in perfect harmony with theirs. Mar- 
 riage, then, is the highest degree of companionship. 
 
134 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 It must be the highest degree, or marriage will be the 
 rankest of all failures." 
 
 So, the matter being thoroughly settled, I lit my corn- 
 cob pipe and seated myself comfortably at the table. 
 
 "This house is in an outrageous condition — it hasn't 
 been swept since we were here last year," said Mr. 
 Pettibone, as he looked about. 
 
 "You might try sweeping it; see if anybody cares," 
 shouted Remus. 
 
 Fred and Ira waded into the dishes. Percy Field and 
 Clint made themselves scarce. Charley proceeded to 
 sweep out and Remus and Dan packed up. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness!" said Mr. Segur. "Things will be 
 like a funeral around here when Remus and Dan are 
 gone." 
 
 Charley, Doc, Ira and I went into the interior and 
 bought some vegetables from a farmer's wife and there 
 we got acquainted with two Minnesota "jack -farmers." 
 
 In the northern part of Minnesota, a few miles off 
 Leech Lake, on the Northern Pacific Railway, there 
 lives a happy man. He has cleared a farm of twenty 
 acres. He is the proud father of thirteen or fourteen 
 or fifteen children, ranging from the cradle up. He 
 works on the section part of the time. He has plenty 
 to eat, fresh air, and everything a man would want but 
 society; yet, a wonderful society — my, my — a whole 
 party for each meal, and three times a day — merry 
 laughter, the play of children — yet he lives in the wil- 
 derness, away from the bright lights. What cares he? 
 Judging from their behavior, when they called upon 
 our camp one day with some vegetables, I am inclined 
 to think that there is no room in his life for the bright 
 lights — society, with its frills and pomp. A smiling 
 faced girl or boy, be the face clean or dirty, is far, far 
 
THE SYNDICATE 135 
 
 better to him — and the life he lives is far better than 
 any life he could plan where he could support all of 
 his children so comfortably. 
 
 These dear little flowers of the wilderness called on 
 me while I was peeling potatoes. 
 
 "Are you the cook?" ventured a little girl, named 
 Hulda. 
 
 "Sure, I'm the cook," said I. "How would you like to 
 cook for such a pack?" 
 
 "It would be a big job," she ventured again. 
 
 And then, having become so very well acquainted, 
 I gathered the little folk about me and told them a 
 fairy story. Oh, how happy I was to watch their eyes 
 glow, and see them feel sad for the little hero — and 
 then Hulda told me a story. It was just a simple 
 story of a little child. "And they lived happily ever 
 afterwards," said she. So I hoped she would, and she 
 hoped I would — and I have been happy ever since. I 
 hope she has. 
 
 "Percy," said Doc, as we walked along, "how would 
 you like to live in this state as this farmer does?" 
 
 "Not at all," said I. 
 
 "Do you suppose a city girl would come to this sort 
 of a life?" 
 
 "Don't know," said I. "But it would be a sacrifice on 
 her part." 
 
 "Yes," says he. "We wouldn't be mean enough to 
 demand it — yet these people have reached a goal — 
 possibly it is as high as ours in a way." 
 
 "Yes," said I. "They are happy, and that is the ulti- 
 mate goal — and the only difference between them and 
 the others is that of a different mode of being happy; 
 we call one notion progress — the other may be called 
 contentment — yet they are neither contented nor pro- 
 gressive — just happy." 
 
136 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 We purchased a number of things and then walked 
 through the woods to the camp. 
 
 There we found Remus and Dan all packed and 
 ready for dinner. 
 
 We all busied ourselves with dinner and in time a 
 very heavy dinner was served. It consisted of chicken 
 soup, steak of pike fish, rutabagas, potatoes, boiled 
 onions, cabbage, and corn on the cob. We also had 
 some pickled and cooked beets; also a lettuce and to- 
 mato salad and hot biscuits. The biscuits and salad 
 Fred prepared, and I cooked the rest of the dinner. 
 
 Of course everybody enjoyed this meal. 
 
 After the usual pipe of tobacco, we discovered that 
 our beards had long been in need of attention, so we 
 sharpened up our razors and proceeded to shave. We 
 found that Doc's mustache had given him considerable 
 trouble, when he was attempting to enjoy the soup, 
 and it was getting in his ears, and suggested that he 
 trim it according to the custom of the city. 
 
 He took the razor and proceeded with his undertak- 
 ing, but did not seem to do the job up to the taste of 
 the Syndicate, so Percy was elected to trim Doc up so 
 the people in Walker wouldn't know him. After cut- 
 ting off about four feet of his mustache, it left him 
 with something which resembled the wings of a butter- 
 fly. The Syndicate every one excepting Doc expressed 
 their entire satisfaction with the effort. 
 
 Remus also removed the mask of a German general 
 from the lower part of his face and also imitated cut 
 of Doc's mustache, while Charley got to trimming on 
 his to such an extent that he took it all off. 
 
 We took a last farewell dip into the lake. The 
 water was so cold, however, that we couldn't enjoy 
 swimming very much. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 137 
 
 After the swim we carried all of the baggage of 
 Remus to the dock and then loaded the big launch with 
 the Syndicate and headed for the place directly across 
 the channel of the inlet to Kabekona Bay. There a 
 large white steamboat stood. 
 
 We found this boat occupied by a rich logging con- 
 tractor who lived at Bemidji, a Mr. Welch, who evi- 
 dently had gathered quite a fortune logging. He had 
 started a large farm in this country. He had seven 
 hundred acres. A large amount of this was under cul- 
 tivation. He was making a modern dairy farm out 
 of it. He was an agriculturist. 
 
 There we met the foreman, a Mr. Prall, who was very 
 courteous indeed upon meeting us. Of course he rec- 
 ognized our capitalistic bearing and dignity. He took 
 great pains to show us everything about the farm. I 
 was very much surprised to find as much growing as 
 we did. Everything was in the pink of condition. He 
 told us that it cost about forty dollars per acre to clear 
 the land of the stumps and the underbrush and that 
 the land originally could have been bought for about 
 ten dollars an acre. He told us that any person with 
 enough capital to properly farm could make a return 
 upon his money and labor. 
 
 We spent a considerable length of time walking 
 over the farm. Mr. Prall took such an interest in us 
 that we did not get back to camp until six-thirty. 
 There a light supper was served. 
 
 After supper we began the undertaking of loading 
 the baggage of our friends into the boats. 
 
 Of course we all had to help load the heavier pieces, 
 and the heavier the load the greater number it took. 
 There was the engine of Dan. It was all boxed ready 
 to be expressed to Kansas City. There were any num- 
 ber of other things crammed into the box. It weighed 
 
138 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 several hundred pounds. And then there was the dock, 
 built by Doc under the direct superintendence of Fred. 
 The launch had to be drawn up to the extreme end of 
 the dock in order to load the engine. 
 
 Everybody was on the dock and so was the big en- 
 gine. Fred was standing at the extreme end, just 
 ready to put the engine into the launch. Doc, Remus 
 and Dan were standing on the dock on each side of the 
 engine, while Charley and Ira were behind the engine 
 near the shore. Percy was just walking onto the dock. 
 "Now, boys, everybody lift," shouted Fred. As every- 
 body started to lift, down went the dock built by Doc, 
 engine, Fred and all. Everybody excepting Fred made 
 a leap for shore, but Fred — he stayed with the engine 
 and gradually sank until he was standing in the cold 
 water up to his waist. 
 
 "Oh, my goodness!" shouted Fred, as I rushed to his 
 rescue. He and the engine were safely landed on shore. 
 At that time I remembered the manner in which he had 
 carried on when I had fallen in the lake and all my 
 clothing was soaked — when I had to stop and go for 
 a swim in order that my clothes would dry. 
 
 "By dig!" cried he. "Plague take it. Drat it all. 
 Why do I always have to get into it?" And then Fred 
 jumped into another boat, cold, wet, and shivering. 
 Doc went over toward him. 
 
 "Now, Fred, go into camp. Change your clothes," 
 shouted Doc. 
 
 Fred remained seated in the boat and endeavored to 
 wring the water out of his trousers. 
 
 "No, siree. I'll not be stopping the party and be al- 
 ways in the way. Drat it; I'll not go." 
 
 The suggestions of Doc ripened into what appeared 
 to be hostile commands and Fred was led away by Doc. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 139 
 
 "You should have seen the expression on Fred's face 
 when the dock gave way and Fred sank," thought 
 Percy to himself. Percy wasn't cruel enough to laugh 
 outright, or especially to stand first on one foot and 
 then the other and laugh until his sides pained him. 
 
 When Fred returned, in a little while, in dry clothes, 
 he didn't have much to say. 
 
 We finally got our boats loaded and started for 
 Walker. On our way to Walker I was seated at my 
 usual place at the wheel and as the engine pounded 
 on with its monotonous turn this little story flashed 
 through my mind: 
 
 A long time ago, when the Mississippi river was the 
 chief mode of transportation from the Gulf to St. 
 Louis, a certain merchant in St. Louis had consigned 
 to him a large number of anvils. He was standing 
 upon the river bank hiring negroes to load the anvils 
 into the steamboat. 
 
 "Do you want a hand to load dem dare anvilles into 
 dat dare boat?" inquired a large negro man. 
 
 He was informed by the merchant that he did need 
 just such a hand. 
 
 "Lawd, man, how much you going to pay for carry- 
 ing dem dare anvilles across dat dare gang plank into 
 dat dare boat?" 
 
 The merchant replied that he would pay fifteen cents 
 an anvil. 
 
 "Lawd, suh, dat sure is a little mite of money for 
 such big anvilles. Do it make any difference if I carry 
 two of dem dare anvilles at a time?" drawled the col- 
 ored man. 
 
 The merchant told him that it would make no differ- 
 ence whether he carried two or three; that he would 
 receive fifteen cents for every one he carried across the 
 gang plank. 
 
140 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 The big colored man then put an anvil under each 
 arm and started across the gang plank. Upon reach- 
 ing the end of the plank, the gang plank broke and the 
 colored man and the anvils fell into the water. 
 
 "Look here, man!" shouted the colored man, as he 
 arose to the surface of the water for the third time. 
 "If you don't throw me a rope I suah am going to drop 
 one of these here anvilles." 
 
 There was Fred in a similar position with the en- 
 gine and he true to his cause. 
 
 Upon our arrival at Walker we loaded everything on 
 the dock, and here again Fred most fell into the lake. 
 Then we all fell to and pushed the trunks and the lug- 
 gage up the hill to the station. 
 
 We gave our departing friends, Dan and Remus, a 
 list of innumerable messages to deliver upon their 
 reaching Kansas City. This they said they would do. 
 
 Just before we were ready to go, I gave Fred a lamp 
 to hold, while I cranked the engine, with special in- 
 structions not to lay it down or tinker with it, as it 
 seemed to be in a very delicate state and would fall to 
 pieces at the slightest opportunity. I felt that it was 
 a serious undertaking to put it together on the rolling 
 sea. He took it and immediately put it down with 
 such force that it fell to pieces. He and Doc proceeded 
 to solve the problem of putting it together in the dark. 
 The result of their labor was to put it together back- 
 wards. In this way it would not work. 
 
 In the course of a half hour and a number of "By 
 digs" and "Plague take its," Mr. Kulander, the gentle- 
 man from whom we had rented our camp, came along, 
 and after much pleading for the opportuity to help 
 Fred was permitted to put the lamp together so that it 
 would work. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 141 
 
 After the lamp was put together so it would work, 
 we started for camp. 
 
 "Good-bye and God be with you until we meet again," 
 floated over the waves to our friends on shore, as we 
 pushed our boats out into the lake. 
 
 I was at the wheel. Everybody signaled for me to 
 drive the boat in a different direction. The steers- 
 man paid no attention to the signals of the various 
 captains and soon the launch was passing under the 
 railroad bridge and up to our dock. It was very late 
 when we got to camp. The air was cold and crisp. 
 We built a fire in the stove and after toasting our feet 
 and smoking a few pipes of tobacco went to bed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The morning of the twenty-eighth day of August, 
 nineteen hundred and sixteen, found the old sawmill 
 working late. There must have been an exceptionally 
 large number of heavy logs on hand, for the buzz, 
 buzz, buzz was unusually loud. Of course one of the 
 big saws was missing, yet' the rest of the crowd seemed 
 to buzz the more. 
 
 Awaking at the customary hour, six o'clock a. m. 
 — not by my own motion, but by force of habit — I 
 again felt myself being lulled to sleep by the persis- 
 tent buzz; and, think of it, this buzz came from one 
 of those fellows who could not lie a-bed in the morning, 
 especially after four-thirty a. m. My early morning 
 companion had gone. I aroused myself from the state 
 into which I had been lulled by the sleepers and 
 dressed. There before me they lay. They looked so 
 very peaceful there. I really thought they needed the 
 
142 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 sleep, so I left them in the mystic realm, of dreams 
 while I went about my work. 
 
 I called at the cottage at eight o'clock. I found Fred 
 and Doc had just raised in their beds. 
 
 "By dig!" shouted Fred, "I just can't get anybody to 
 go swimming with me." 
 
 "Well," cried Doc, "I'll go with you, Come on." 
 
 And so it was that the two boys bantered each other 
 into going swimming. I say bantered, because the 
 water was too cold for anyone to think of swimming 
 without something of that kind to encourage them. 
 
 Breakfast over, dishes washed and placed in their 
 regular order on the table, in readiness for the even- 
 ing; the lunch box packed, and Percy, having filled the 
 tanks with gasoline, we were ready to embark on the 
 "big drink," as Fred was always bound to call the big 
 lake, where we enjoyed the glorious sunshine and out- 
 of-doors of the Northland. 
 
 "What's the matter with that do-dad? Plague take 
 it, something always has to go wrong," worried Fred, 
 as he directed Percy in his efforts to fix the engine in 
 the launch. Percy soon had the motor in working or- 
 der and away we motored for Shingobee. 
 
 Now Shingobee Bay is located about eight miles 
 south and east of Walker, so we headed our boats first 
 for Walker, and then for that portion of the lake upon 
 which stands the sawmill of Walker, about a half a 
 mile down the lake from Walker. 
 
 We soon found there was a lively breeze from the 
 south, blowing straight up Walker Bay and kicking up 
 some sea, rough enough so that we kept close in to 
 Morris Point, then cutting across to shelter behind the 
 point, near Walker. 
 
 At Walker Remus and Charley stopped for a supply 
 of the weed which has made the red man famous, but 
 
THE SYNDICATE 143 
 
 the other two boats kept right on their course to Shin- 
 gobee. 
 
 Below the sawmill and approaching Shouse's Hole 
 (another famous fishing water for Fred), the fisher- 
 man's instinct, which makes a man fish at every oppor- 
 tunity, overcame Fred. He was steering the big 
 boat, but that did not prevent him running out a long 
 line, attached to which was a number eight Skinner 
 spoon, decorated with red flannel and baited with a 
 frog. 
 
 "Now," said Fred, "I'm going to get a 'he one.' " 
 
 We, who watched Fred steer and fish at the same 
 time, were convinced that it was a man's job, but 
 Fred's bump of perseverance is well developed, and 
 steer and fish he must, and did. Had the boat left a 
 visible track, others following might have wondered 
 why the course, as it was so like a corkscrew. Twice 
 Jie almost landed on the shore where a landing was 
 not intended, but he didn't land the "he one." 
 
 The entrance to Shingobee Bay is spanned by a long 
 railroad bridge of the Northern Pacific Railway. Un- 
 der this bridge we passed and upon motoring three or 
 four miles came to a place where a beautiful, murmur- 
 ing brook emptied itself into the bay. On our way 
 there was much discussion as to the best place to camp. 
 We decided, however, to tie our boats at this inlet and 
 camp here. 
 
 This is indeed a delightful camping ground. The 
 shore has been improved with a rickety old dock. Not 
 far from the shore is a wonderful spring of cold, pure 
 water, over which has been built a rickety old summer 
 house. Some distance back from this inlet, upon the 
 top of a high hill, stands a summer cottage of, as we 
 were told by a native of this vicinity, two old maids. 
 
144 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 The country in and about Shingobee is very wild. It 
 is surrounded by high hills, which are covered with 
 second growth pines and shrubs, the virgin forest hav- 
 ing been cut down. The air about the place is filled 
 with the rich perfume of the pine trees. I was tired 
 and sleepy, so I stretched myself on the rickety old 
 dock and fell asleep, while the rest of the boys went 
 for a fish. 
 
 When they had tired of fishing — for the first time — 
 possibly as they were down on their luck, they returned 
 to the old dock. I was informed that it was the notion 
 of Charley that I had had a better sleep than they had 
 fish. 
 
 Upon arrival of the Syndicate they made a careful 
 examination of our surroundings. We found that a 
 motor boat had been hurriedly pulled upon shore and 
 there deserted. This was apparent, as the motor was 
 exposed to the wind and rain and the boat was half full 
 of water. Its owner had doubtless left in great haste. 
 
 Doc went up to the cottage on the hill, but found no 
 trace of the living, although, through the windows, 
 evidence of late occupancy could be seen, as the bed- 
 ding and clothing were scattered about. This, accord- 
 ing to Charley, intensified the mystery of the deserted 
 boat. 
 
 "A mystery," said Charley, "is always interesting." 
 
 There was a delightfully uncanny feeling about these 
 premises, and it gave us a topic for much speculation; 
 still we were unable to solve the problem. 
 
 In the meantime, and during our discussion, Dan and 
 Ira had climbed the hill immediately behind our camp, 
 and through which ran a beautiful bubbling brook. 
 On the return of the wanderers, we concluded once 
 again to give Fred another chance to fish. Thus it 
 
THE SYNDICATE 145 
 
 was necessary for us to hurry through with our dinner 
 of fish, cheese, milk, bread and coffee. 
 
 Ira and I went canoeing. We paddled our canoe into 
 the extreme southern portion of Shingobee Bay in 
 search of Shingobee River, which flows from Shingobee 
 Lake. We found the river so filled with bog that it 
 was impossible for us to paddle to Shingobee Lake. 
 We returned to the place where we had camped about 
 four o'clock and sighted the other boat trolling. 
 
 They had fished all day long, with little success, so 
 Fred, Charley and Ira decided they would go to Oni- 
 gum for a visit with friends there, with whom they 
 had spent some previously happy vacations. They 
 took the large boat, with Ira as skipper, and after pass- 
 ing under the bridge laid their course for Onigum. 
 
 After going some distance, Ira discovered the keys 
 to the grub house in his pocket. Consternation! 
 Here was a serious offense indeed. It was one which 
 had stirred up a great deal of trouble on previous oc- 
 casions, when some forgetful one would carry off the 
 keys, and others, upon arriving home first, would have 
 to boost the lightest one of the crowd, usually Doc or 
 Dan, through a window, and when the luckless one re- 
 turned he got the full benefit of the indignation of the 
 whole crowd. Memories of these occurrences brought 
 terror to the soul of Ira, so by dint of loud shouts and 
 waving of hats the attention of the other boat was at- 
 tracted and the keys delivered — much to the relief of 
 Ira. 
 
 Did you ever approach Onigum via Agency Bay on 
 a bright summer afternoon? It is a sight one cannot 
 forget. The high point near the canal is carelessly 
 wooded, with here and there a stately pine which tow- 
 ers majestically. Upon passing through the canal, a 
 small inlet to Onigum Bay, which has been made for 
 
146 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 the Indians, we come into view of the Indian school 
 buildings, and in the foreground the Mercer Memorial. 
 Further to the right, the row of houses occupied by 
 the government agency employes. This point, upon 
 which stand these improvements, juts out into the lake 
 like a battleship. Upon looking farther on down the 
 shore line of the bay we see the Indian village, and 
 beyond, in the distance, the Indian burying ground. 
 
 There is no very great difference between the bury- 
 ing ground of the Indians and that of other people, 
 yet their graves mark not only their difference of 
 opinion of hereafter but their appreciation for their 
 loved ones. They build rude little houses over the 
 graves, and in the front of these houses they cut a 
 hole, large enough for a bumble bee to pass, for the 
 spirits to use. 
 
 Doc, Charley and Ira landed at the dock at Onigum, 
 just below the Mercer Memorial Episcopal church. 
 This church is a quaint sort of a building. Its appear- 
 ance recalled to the minds of Fred and Charley the 
 Sunday they attended services at the church at the in- 
 stance and insistence of Miss Colby, the missionary. 
 No doubt for penance. For a time I can imagine it 
 was possibly a novel thing, but as the lessons, songs, 
 and sermon, which was by no means a short one, were 
 in the Ojibway tongue, I have no doubt but that it 
 developed into deep penance. Of course I can readily 
 appreciate how Fred escaped the strain and the great- 
 er part of it by sleeping soundly, and I hope quietly, 
 while sitting straight up in a most dignified manner. 
 
 There was also another custom about this church, I 
 have been informed by Charley, which they contend 
 they will never forget. That is that the contribution 
 plate is placed at the altar, and the contributors came 
 forward — and why? 
 
THE SYNDICATE 147 
 
 As Charley, Fred and Ira walked on up to the top of 
 the hill, they came to the cottage of Miss Colby. It is 
 a white, one-story sort of a house, nestling close to 
 the church, vine-covered. By the house were rose 
 bushes. In the yard were flowers of golden glow, 
 sweetpeas, mignonette, rose geraniums — some cheerful 
 bloom for all summer, typical of the cheery and happy 
 person who lives there. 
 
 Ah, Miss Colby! Have you ever met this good 
 woman? It is a pleasure for anyone to know her. 
 She is reasonably plump, not very tall, wears a pleas- 
 ant face at all times; and, while her face isn't the 
 kind which some folk rave about on the stage, yet it 
 is one of those good, wholesome faces which we soon 
 — yes, very soon, indeed, enjoy seeing. She has kind 
 blue eyes. To look into her eyes is to view the inner 
 chambers of goodness. She has given more than 
 twenty years of her life to the work of bringing com- 
 fort and hope for better things, both for here and 
 hereafter, to her dusky wards, in a missionary ca- 
 pacity. 
 
 Fred, Ira and Charley always feel sure of a warm 
 welcome at the home of Miss Colby; and so do every- 
 body else. They and we feel much at home there. 
 And why not? Isn't there a step at the gate which 
 was built by Fred and Charley? And do not Fred 
 and Charley know exactly where the ax should be 
 put. Can't either of them go into the kitchen in the 
 dark and find the water pail? 
 
 It is a rare treat to visit Miss Colby. Our eyes 
 grow large and frequently dim when she tells of the 
 many things her life with the Indians necessitated; 
 her going out and coming in, day after day, year after 
 year, summer and winter. And, mind you, they have 
 
148 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 winter at Leech Lake. They also have days of wind, 
 when it is not possible to cross the big water, yet, if 
 anyone must go, Miss Colby is always the one to go. 
 She came to the Ojibway Indians when the railroad 
 was no nearer than Brainard and when all travel was 
 by canoe, sled or wagon. 
 
 My! what experiences she has had. One night, when 
 she was busy with her household cares, alone, no one 
 near on whom she could call, the door opened and in 
 walked six big buck Indians in full war paint, with 
 tomahawks, knives and the symbols of war. They 
 filed into the room, walked over to the fire and sat 
 down without speaking a word. They watched her in 
 this way for more than an hour, and, notwithstanding 
 this fact, Miss Colby went about her work undisturbed. 
 A curious member of our party upon asking if she 
 was afraid, was informed that she didn't dare permit 
 the Indians to think she was. 
 
 Then, again, on a very dark and cold winter night, 
 word came to her that an Indian was dying, so through 
 the forest alone Miss Colby went; out into the storm 
 of winter, across the water, to bring help and good 
 cheer to those who suffered; and those who suffered 
 were only dirty Indians — a copper-colored Indian was 
 dying in the Northern wild. Many had died before 
 without the assistance and kind words of a good 
 woman, yet, on this cold winter night, Miss Colby must 
 go. She must go because his own people cared little 
 for his comfort. She found the Indian sick with tuber- 
 culosis. He died. The next day it was very cold — 
 thirty below zero. There had to be a funeral, and this 
 service Miss Colby had to preach. To do this she had 
 to stand out in the ice and snow and await the digging 
 of the grave, which had to be dug through the frozen 
 ground. She did this with the only reward that the 
 
THE SYNDICATE 149 
 
 Indians would learn to know and to respect our God, 
 to be civilized. 
 
 When you think of these things, and know that they 
 are possibly only two of the many, many cruel hard- 
 ships which this good woman had undergone for the 
 glory of God, we cannot help but admire her goodness; 
 and when we ask ourselves this question, What have 
 we done, what shall our answer be? 
 
 After visiting Miss Colby, Fred, Ira and Charley 
 went over to call on Mr. and Mrs. Silas Walter. They 
 are two good folk of the Indian reservation. Mr. Wal- 
 ter is the general carpenter, millwright, cabinetmaker 
 and casketmaker for the Indians, and a general utility 
 man about the reservation. They are two mighty good 
 people. Mrs. Walter is a proud mother of a number 
 of good boys. She knows that boys, even rather old 
 ones, are always ready to eat. 
 
 Does the great bigness of things have its effect on 
 character? It would certainly seem so. When it is 
 given one to know, as we know, our friends at Onigum, 
 we feel that they have absorbed and made a part of 
 themselves something of the wholesomeness of God's 
 great out-of-doors. 
 
 Doc and Percy, upon receiving the keys to the grub 
 house, headed for Kabekona Bay. We prepared a 
 splendid supper, and as we were about to sit down 
 to the table we heard the hearty voices of our com- 
 panions. 
 
 "And how did you find the darling Miss Colby?" 
 shouted Percy. 
 
 "And Dad Walter and Mrs. Walter?" added Doc. 
 
 "Oh, very well, indeed," put in Charley. 
 
 "Come, pull up your chair; here's a fine supper 
 awaiting you," cried Percy. 
 
150 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 "Supper! What do we want with supper? Why, 
 we have dined with the Walters. Yum-yum, ice 
 cream! Great saucers full; rich, made from the cream 
 of Dad's famous 'Can't Hook Cow.' Ah, my dear boys, 
 the cake! Huge pieces, four-layer chocolate cake! Ah, 
 frosted cake! Pike fish might be good, but nobody's 
 boys or girls ever had a better home, or food either, 
 than that of Dad Walter," said Charley. 
 
 Notwithstanding the ice cream and cake, the boys 
 paid their respects to the supper we had prepared. 
 
 By the time dishes were put in shape everyone had 
 quietly crept away to bed, leaving the camp to the buzz 
 of the mosquitoes and the sleepers. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 It was decided last night that we should get up at 
 five-forty-five and take another trip to Durant Bay. 
 At five-forty-five this morning, Tuesday, August 29th, 
 1916, everybody in and about the camp was very busy, 
 and at seven o'clock we headed our boats for Durant 
 Bay. This morning the air was exceedingly fine and we 
 arrived there at a seasonable hour prepared for fishing. 
 I had again prepared a cold lunch so that Fred would 
 not have to take the time out from his hard and con- 
 sistent fish. He expected to make a big catch today. 
 Upon arriving at the place we had camped before at 
 Durant Bay, Fred, Doc and Charley took the row boat 
 and Ira and I the canoe. We all went for a fish. The 
 waves were very high; in fact, the lake was so rough 
 that we only caught enough fish to eat, notwithstanding 
 the fact that we fished all day long. We started home 
 at six o'clock and then followed another battle with the 
 waves. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 151 
 
 We reached camp at nine-thirty p. m. and started 
 supper. We were all hungry, tired, cold, wet and worn 
 out. I prepared a reasonably good supper. Mr. Segur 
 again said his New England conscience would keep him 
 awake if the dishes were not washed, so we all went to 
 work on the dishes and in the course of half an hour 
 were ready for bed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Wednesday, August 30, 1916, was a very important 
 day in and about our camp. Our vacation time had been 
 fast slipping away. We had been so very, very busy 
 that we hardly appreciated the fact that this was the 
 morning for our packing up and making ready our 
 debut into civilization. We were to leave the simple 
 life; to leave the beautiful lake with its cold springs 
 and its fish; the covering of the blue sky; the fresh air; 
 the Indians; to take off our rough clothing, our winter 
 wear; to put on a high collar; to dress as custom and 
 civilization demanded. 
 
 The sun rose this morning at its usual time, but not 
 the Syndicate. Percy Field woke from force of habit 
 at 6 o'clock. He could hear the lazy chiming of the 
 cowbells and the buzz of the sleepers. He knew they 
 were all tired, so he, like the rest of the crowd, slept 
 late this morning. Around the hour of eight-thirty the 
 Syndicate one by one dressed and went about their 
 duties. 
 
 Breakfast was served; it was a very good one. Doc 
 made a reputation for himself on cakes this morning. 
 Fresh fish was cooked by Percy, as well as oatmeal to 
 the taste of all concerned. There was no place suggest- 
 
152 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 ed to go; everything seemed to suddenly become melan- 
 choly and glum; there was the packing to be done. What 
 can be more irksome from a vacation; to break camp, 
 and to take such steps as tended to end a happy camp- 
 ing party? 
 
 This was indeed a tiresome undertaking. I didn't 
 like it and I don't think anybody else did. 
 
 Everybody hustled about, however, and in a little 
 while had things ready for traveling. I took a swim in 
 the cold waters of the lake and so did the rest of the 
 party. My, but it was cold today, and I didn't enjoy 
 the swim at all. 
 
 Charley and Ira went for a fish in Kabekona Bay. 
 They caught a few pike, which we cooked for dinner, 
 and after dinner came the job of assorting our fishing 
 paraphernalia and the packing. 
 
 "By dig," shouted a certain member of the Syndicate, 
 apparently much peeved about something, "I made one 
 suggestion the first day I was here and nobody paid 
 any attention to it. By dig, I'll not make another." 
 
 Somebody had asked the member his views about 
 having a large boat sent from Walker for our baggage. 
 
 Upon this utterance of Fred another member of the 
 Syndicate, now the proud possessor of a sporty mus- 
 tache, sprang to his feet and told Fred a thing or two. 
 
 "Now, Doctor, dear, pardon me, please. I didn't un- 
 derstand the situation," said Fred amicably, as he em- 
 braced Doc. 
 
 "Very well," said Doc, "but don't you fly off half 
 cocked, or something will happen to you, my dear boy." 
 
 "Yes, doctor dear. Now don't blame me for making 
 you hear my side of the question," said Fred, as he 
 started another loud discussion, which in time came to 
 a happy ending. 
 
THE SYNDICATE 153 
 
 "Fred and Doc are certainly two peaceful children — 
 they never have any differences at all," suggested 
 Percy with a smile. 
 
 "Indeed they are," put in Charley. 
 
 "Yes," said Percy, "they remind me of a little inci- 
 dent which took place in my home a good many years 
 ago. I was sitting in my reading room, which at that 
 time was just across from the kitchen. 
 
 " 'Go on with you, you little old burr-headed black 
 man. You jes boss aroun', boss aroun' and boss aroun'! 
 Now hush you' big mouth, little old bow-legged man, 
 or I'll take this hare butcher knife and cut off your 
 little old bullet head," was the conversation of our old 
 colored woman and her husband. Realizing the 
 probability of her husband opening his mouth again, I 
 dropped the paper and rushed out into the kitchen. 
 
 "'Charity! What does this mean. Put down that 
 butcher knife,' I shouted, as I beheld Charity standing 
 over her husband, most in the act of decapitating him. 
 
 " 'Fo' da Lawd's sake, Mistah Field,' said Charity, 
 greatly astonished at my interpretation of their con- 
 versation. 'Oh, Lawdy, we's jest visitun.' " 
 
 "Yes," added Charley, "that is evidently the case with 
 some folk," as he winked at Fred and Doc, "you have 
 to know them to understand them." 
 
 We then loaded all of the heavy luggage into the 
 boats, shaved and dressed ourselves in our city clothes. 
 
 "Mr. Charles I. Pettibone, I believe?" spoke Percy, 
 with a bow, as he walked over to where Charley was 
 standing. 
 
 "Yes," said Charley, "and this is Mr. Field. I am 
 glad to meet you in this far away place, but there are 
 two other distinguished gentlemen." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Frederick W. Segur and Doctor H. 0. 
 Leonard. They are from Kansas City. I know them 
 
154 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 very well there. They must be strangers in these parts. 
 And there is Mr. Ira Pettibone." 
 
 "Mr. Ira Pettibone, I am delighted, indeed, to see 
 you," announced Mr. Field, as he shook hands with Ira. 
 
 We then loaded our light baggage into the boats 
 very carefully and then with a great deal of pains 
 everybody else got in the boats. 
 
 "Careful there, Fred," shouted Doc, "you'll give my 
 city friends a wetting. Now, Percy, start the engine 
 and keep close to the shore, our city friends don't want 
 to get wet." 
 
 Thus Messrs. Frederick W. Segur, Charles I. Petti- 
 bone, Doctor Homer O. Leonard, Ira Pettibone and Percy 
 C. Field rode to Walker. 
 
 After starting the engine I stood up in the boat and 
 upon turning my face toward camp beheld the sun, a 
 magnificent sunset. It appeared to be sinking into 
 Lake Benedict; and, as it was gradually swallowed up 
 by the lake, it lighted the bay with a rich reddish, fiery 
 stream, leaving everything peaceful and quiet, except- 
 ing for the monotonous pound of our engine and the 
 gentle swish of the water as it passed our boat and 
 rolled into huge waves behind. There in the distance 
 was the inlet to Lake Benedict, and far away to the 
 right the inlet to Kabekona River, the various other 
 wild shore lines as well. 
 
 The old grub house and the tent houses were rapidly 
 being left behind. They looked cold and desolate. A 
 loon cried and its weird call proclaimed that the crea- 
 tures of the forest and lake reigned supreme. 
 
 As we approached the railroad bridge, I turned my 
 face to the bow, to avoid striking the bog or the piers. 
 
 "Good-bye, Kabekona! Good-bye, Lake Benedict!" 
 shouted Mr. Frederick W. Segur, as he waved his hand 
 
THE SYNDICATE 155 
 
 and threw a kiss to the respective haunts of our pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 "Good-bye, Steamboat Bay, and good-bye, Squaw- 
 Point, the Narrows, and your watery growth," said Doc, 
 as he gave them, a farewell salute. 
 
 "Nov/, don't let us forget Durant Bay," shouted Ira. 
 
 "Or Shingobee, or Ottertail — yes, good-bye to you all, 
 our happy hunting ground; farewell, until we meet 
 again," proclaimed Doc with a voice of sadness. 
 
 And everybody murmured a fond Amen. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 We reached Walker in due time; unloaded our boats, 
 put our trunks upon a push cart, and pushed the cart 
 and baggage up the hill to the station platform. Ah, 
 never before was a hill so steep or a load so heavy. 
 
 We then went over to the restaurant, across the 
 railroad tracks, and had a very poor supper. 
 
 After supper Percy registered at the Chase Hotel 
 and wheeled his trunk and grips to The Annex, or Lake 
 View Hotel, while Mr. Segur went to the railroad sta- 
 tion. 
 
 "I want to do some figuring, may I use your high 
 desk?" inquired Mr. Segur of the station agent, a very 
 fat and jovial fellow. 
 
 "Help yourself, my dear sir, help yourself," the fat 
 man added, as Mr. Segur took charge and spread a 
 bundle of papers upon the desk. He figured on first 
 one side of a very large sheet (big enough to wrap a 
 turkey in with ease) and then the other side. Never 
 before did Mr. Frederick W. Segur appear to be so 
 popular with the boys and the station agent, and never 
 
156 THE SYNDICATE 
 
 before did the station agent and the rest of the Syn- 
 dicate desire so to talk with Fred. We talked at him, 
 to him, and possibly through him, but he just kept on 
 a-figuring and adding and talking to himself. 
 
 As the train which was to take the Syndicate back 
 to their loved ones and civilization pulled into Walker, 
 Mr. Frederick W. Segur gathered up his papers and 
 presented each member with an itemized statement of 
 his proportionate expense. These bills were imme- 
 diately paid, and the party boarded the train. 
 
 I told everybody good-bye as they stepped on the 
 train. When I did, the words seemed to choke in my 
 throat. It was my fate to remain, to stay in the fresh 
 air, to keep away from home and my loved ones; to 
 keep away from the pollen of the ragweed and golden 
 rod and the earthy smell of Missouri. 
 
 The train pulled out and with it the sunlight of my 
 life in and about Walker. 
 
 "They have gone," said I to myself as I walked to 
 my lonely room in The Annex, "but not forever, for I 
 shall meet them again in Kansas City." 
 
 I did, and to my great pleasure. 
 
 THE END. 
 

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