I was surprised and annoyed.The principal charm of Seabury Pond was that so few people visited it.Also fewer still knew how good the fishing was there.I was not more than ordinarily selfish, but I did not care to have the place overrun with excursionists from the city, who had no scruples as to number and size of fish caught and would ruin the sport as they had ruined it at other and better known ponds.The passerby, whoever he was--a native probably--would, if he saw me, ask questions concerning my luck, and be almost sure to tell every one he met.I left my fire unkindled, stepped back to the shade of the bushes and waited in silence, hoping the driver would go on without stopping.There was no real road on this side of the pond, but there was an abandoned wood track, like that by which I had come.The horse was approaching along the track; the sounds of hoofs and crackling branches grew plainer.
The odd part of it was that I heard no rattle of wheels.It was almost as if the person was on horseback.This seemed impossible, because no one in Denboro or Bayport--no one I could think of, at least--owned or rode a saddle horse.Yet the hoof beats grew louder and there was no squeak, or jolt, or rattle to bear them company.They came to a point in the woods directly opposite where I sat in the shade of the bushes and there they stopped.Then they recommenced and the crackle of branches was louder than ever.The rider, whoever he was, was coming down the bank to the pond.
A moment more and the tall swamp-huckleberry bushes at the edge of the sandy beach parted and between them stepped gingerly a clean-cut, handsome brown horse, which threw up its head at the sight of the water and then trotted lightly toward it.The rider, who sat so easily in the saddle, was a girl.And the girl was Mabel Colton!
She did not notice me at first, but gave her attention to the horse.The animal waded into the water to its knees and, in obedience to a pull on the reins, stopped, bent its head, and began to drink.Then the rider turned in her seat, looked about her, saw the heap of wood for the fire, the open lunch basket, the rods and landing-net, and--me.
I had stepped from the bushes when she first appeared and was standing motionless, staring, I imagine, like what Dorinda sometimes called her husband--a "born gump." There was Fate in this! no doubt about it.The further I went to avoid this girl, and the more outlandish and forsaken the spot to which I fled, the greater the certainty of our meeting.A feeling of helplessness came over me, as if I were in the clutch of destiny and no effort of mine could break that clutch.
For a moment she looked as if she might be thinking the same thing.
She started when she saw me and her lips parted.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, softly.Then we gazed at each other without speaking.
She was the first to recover from the surprise.Her expression changed.The look of alarm caused by my sudden appearance left her face, but the wonder remained.
"Why! Why, Mr.Paine!" she cried."Is it you?"I stepped forward.
"Why, Miss Colton!" said I.
She drew a breath of relief."It IS you!" she declared."I was beginning to believe in hallucinations.How you startled me! What are you doing here?""That is exactly what I was going to ask you," I replied."I am here for a fishing excursion.But what brought you to this out-of-the-way place?"
She smiled and patted the horse's shoulder."Don here brought me,"she answered."He saw the water and I knew he was thirsty, so Icame straight down the bank.But I didn't expect to find any one here.I haven't seen a horse or a human being for an hour.What a pretty little lake this is.What is its name?""It is called Seabury's Pond.How did you find it?""I didn't.Don found it.He and I came for a gallop in the woods and I let him choose his own paths.I have been in his charge all the morning.I haven't the least idea where we are.There, Don!
you have had enough and you are splashing us dreadfully.Come back!"She backed the horse out of the water and turned his head toward the woods.
"It is great fun to be lost," she observed."I didn't suppose any one could be lost in Denboro.""But this isn't Denboro.Seabury's Pond is in Bayport township.""Is it, really? In Bayport? Then I must be a long way from home.""You are; four miles and a half, at least.More than that over the road."She looked at her watch and frowned slightly.
"Dear me!" she said."And it is after twelve already.I am perfectly sure I can't find the way back in time for luncheon.""I shall be glad to go with you and show you the way.""No, indeed! Don and I will get home safely.This isn't the first time we have been lost together, though not on Cape Cod.Of course I shouldn't think of taking you from your fishing.Have you had good luck?""Pretty fair.Some bass and two good-sized pickerel.""Really! Bass? I didn't know there were any about here.May Isee them?"
"Certainly.They are over there in the bushes."She swung lightly down from the saddle and, taking her horse by the bridle, led him toward the spot where my catch lay, covered with leaves and wet grass.I removed the covering and she bent over the fish.
