The Story of Porcelain | Page 7

obliged now and then to stop and rest. Mr. Croyden, on the contrary, swung along the narrow trail with the ease of an Indian.
"You will get into trim in a few days," he observed encouragingly to Theo. "I myself am always stiff and slow until I get limbered up."
When, however, Owl Lake finally came into sight both Theo and his father instantly forgot their fatigue.
There stretched the tiny sheet of water, a gem of flashing blue whose calm surface mirrored the pines and delicate birches bordering its margin.
The punt and canoe were launched, the tackle unpacked, and amid a silence broken only by the dip of oar and paddle the fishermen drifted out into the stillness.
Ah, it was a day never to be forgotten! Certainly Theo would never forget it, for it was during the first half-hour of this Arabian Night's dream that he proudly landed a beautiful lake trout, the first one he had ever caught.
From the moment he felt the tug at his line until his catch was safely in the bottom of the boat his excitement was tremendous. How the little creature pulled! How it swept away with the bait into deep water! With Manuel, Dr. Swift, Tony, and Mr. Croyden all coaching him, and almost as frenzied as he, poor Theo hardly knew where he was. But he obeyed the insistent command of: "Play him! Play him!" and play him he did. Even with the captive's final leap into the air the trout did not succeed in freeing itself from the hook. Keeping his prize well away from the boat that the line might not slacken Theo at last reeled in his victim.
He gasped when the feat was accomplished.
The second time he knew better what to do; and before the sun was high and the fish had ceased to bite he landed five beauties.
In the meantime both his father and Mr. Croyden had been so absorbed in watching his pleasure that they had almost forgotten their own lines, and it was not until a big land-loch struck that the Doctor remembered he, too, was fishing. When finally a lull in the sport came and the party pulled up-stream toward the lean-to, there were a dozen good-sized trout in Mr. Croyden's basket and as many more in the Doctor's.
Then came the disembarking at the upper end of the lake, and the building of the fire. Dry wood was taken from the shelter of the house, and in the clearing before the camp, on a foundation of large flat stones, the fire was kindled. It was a marvel to Theo to see how quickly Manuel and Tony made things ready. They produced a small frying-pan, greased it, and had the fish sizzling in it before you could say Jack Robinson. Then they unpacked the hampers and brought forth tin plates, knives, and forks.
How good the meal tasted!
The great slices of bread-and-butter, with layers of creamy cheese between them, seemed a royal feast to the ravenous sportsmen; and the steaming coffee and thin slices of crisp bacon food for the gods. As for the trout--particularly the big one Theo himself had caught--well, there never was such eating!
After lunch was done the fishermen were loth to leave the sunny shelter of the cabin.
Dr. Swift and Mr. Croyden lounged on the door-sill, while Theo skipped stones in the water until his arm was tired. Then exhausted by his exertions he sank wearily down on a stump near the lean-to and remarked:
"Why wouldn't this be a good time, Mr. Croyden, to tell us some more about Greek pottery?"
"Greek pottery? Bless my heart! I thought you had forgotten all about that."
"So I had when I was fishing," confessed Theo honestly. "But I have remembered it again now."
"You are a frank youngster," laughed Mr. Croyden. "Well, let me see. You know the making of pottery was a fine art among the Greeks. They made two kinds--neither of them glazed, of course, because at that time nobody knew how to glaze pottery. The first kind was a pottery of red clay on which were placed decorations of black pigment; the other was a pottery on which they painted figures in red, afterward filling in the background around them with black. These two varieties of ware are briefly known as black on red, and red on black. The black portion of this pottery possessed a wonderful polish which came from the black pigment mixed with the clay; the red part, on the contrary, had no lustre, evidently being smoothed and polished with some hard tool after the vase was finished. These vases were very beautiful in form and design, no two of them being alike. Each was made by an individual artist who pleased himself as to the arrangement of the birds, animals, and gracefully draped