In the Midst of Alarms | Page 8

or delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of
the forest."
"There ought to be some nice places along the lake shore."
"No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would remind me of the Lake Shore
Railroad when it was calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. No,
sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have hired a tent and a lot
of cooking things. I'm going to take that tent over to Canada to-morrow;
and then I propose we engage a man with a team to cart it somewhere
into the woods, fifteen or twenty miles away. We shall have to be near
a farmhouse, so that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, of
course, is a disadvantage; but I shall try to get near someone who has
never even heard of New York."
"You may find that somewhat difficult."
"Oh, I don't know. I have great hopes of the lack of intelligence in the
Canadians."
"Often the narrowest," said the professor slowly, "are those who think

themselves the most cosmopolitan."
"Right you are," cried Yates, skimming lightly over the remark, and
seeing nothing applicable to his case in it. "Well, I've laid in about half
a ton, more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty jug."
"An empty one?"
"Yes. Among the few things worth having that the Canadians possess,
is good whisky. Besides, the empty jar will save trouble at the
customhouse. I don't suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Kentucky
article, but you and I will have to scrub along on it for a while. And,
talking of whisky, just press the button once again."
The professor did so, saying:
"The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about drinking less or smoking
less, did he?"
"In my case? Well, come to think of it, there was some conversation in
that direction. Don't remember at the moment just what it amounted to;
but all physicians have their little fads, you know. It doesn't do to
humor them too much. Ah, boy, there you are again. Well, the
professor wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, and put
plenty of ice in it; but don't neglect the gin on that account. Certainly;
charge it to room 518."

CHAPTER III.
"What's all this tackle?" asked the burly and somewhat red-faced
customs officer at Fort Erie.
"This," said Yates, "is a tent, with the poles and pegs appertaining
thereto. These are a number of packages of tobacco, on which I shall
doubtless have to pay something into the exchequer of her Majesty.
This is a jug used for the holding of liquids. I beg to call your attention
to the fact that it is at present empty, which unfortunately prevents me

making a libation to the rites of good-fellowship. What my friend has
in that valise I don't know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, and would
advise you to search him."
"My valise contains books principally, with some articles of wearing
apparel," said the professor, opening his grip.
The customs officer looked with suspicion on the whole outfit, and
evidently did not like The tone of the American. He seemed to be
treating the customs department in a light and airy manner, and the
officer was too much impressed by the dignity of his position not to
resent flippancy. Besides, there were rumors of Fenian invasion in the
air, and the officer resolved that no Fenian should get into the country
without paying duty.
"Where are you going with this tent?"
"I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps you can tell us. I don't know the
country about here. Say, Stilly, I'm off uptown to attend to the
emptiness in this stone utensil. I've been empty too often myself not to
sympathize with its condition. You wrestle this matter out about the
tent. You know the ways of the country, whereas I don't."
It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations in the hands of his
friend. He was quick enough to see that he made no headway with the
officer, but rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously over his
shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the professor, and marched up
the hill to the nearest tavern, whistling one of the lately popular war
tunes.
"Now," he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar tenderly on the bar,
"fill that up to the nozzle with the best rye you have. Fill it with the old
familiar juice, as the late poet Omar saith."
The bartender did as he was requested.
"Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may be
taken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?"

The barkeeper smiled. "How would a