"The forenoons we usually spent in reading and writing, each in his
or her chamber. (Oh, the journals, Ned!--but you shall not see
mine.) After a midday meal,--I cannot call it dinner,--we sat upon
the stoop, listening while one of us read aloud, or strolled down
the shores on either side, or, when the sun was not too warm, got
into a boat, and rowed or floated lazily around the promontory.
"One afternoon, as I was sauntering off, past the garden, towards
the eastern inlet, I noticed Perkins slipping along behind the
cedar knobs, towards the little woodland at the end of our domain.
Curious to find out the cause of his mysterious disappearances, I
followed cautiously. From the edge of the wood I saw him enter a
little gap between the rocks, which led down to the water.
Presently a thread of blue smoke stole up. Quietly creeping along,
I got upon the nearer bluff and looked down. There was a sort of
hearth built up at the base of the rock, with a brisk little fire
burning upon it, but Perkins had disappeared. I stretched myself
out upon the moss, in the shade, and waited.
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