Of course I was awake before Susie
knocked at my door, and only waiting for her to help me lace those high
boots of mine. She is the only woman I ever knew who can make knots that
will not come undone until you want them to. I suppose that it is an
inherited trait from her ancestry of fishermen and sailors.
We rowed across the cove to the place where we land when we go
salmon-fishing. I was distressed when I saw the size of the packs the men
were carrying, for it looked as if they had prepared for an excursion
beyond the Arctic Circle, and of course it was chiefly on my account.
Susie clamored to be allowed a bundle also but neither Sammy nor Frenchy
would hear of it.
"Ye'll be havin' ter help th' lady when we's on the mash," Captain Sammy
told her.
I discovered later that the mash is really a marsh, or swamp, or rather a
whole lot of them. Sammy opened the procession, followed by Yves. Then I
came, aided and abetted by Susie, and the doctor closed the imposing
line, also bearing a big pack. Whenever the nature of the ground
permitted Susie would walk beside me and impart her views. She trudged on
sturdily, her feet enclosed in a vast pair of skin boots borrowed from
some male relative. The evident disproportion in the sizes did not
trouble her in the least.
"I got four pair o' stockins," she informed me, "an' me feet feels good
an' aisy."
A little later she imparted to me some of her views on the sport we were
pursuing.
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