Mr. Mackworth knew the restaurants of America and Europe as some people know the capitals and museums. Because of this his tastes were simple but precise. In the woods or in camp he never failed to superintend the preparation of each meal offered his guests. Even in cities, on special occasions, he frequently descended into club, restaurant and hotel kitchens for a word with the chef or, like as not, added the last touch by his own hand to the principal dish.

This evening he gave no sign of interfering with Chef Belknap beyond general directions for the dinner. But, just before seven o’clock, he spoke to Jake and the colored boy disappeared in the direction of the depot not far distant. Soon after a dusty train from the north rattled in. A few minutes later Jake reappeared carrying a basket from which water was dripping.

[116]

As he passed along the side of the car Mr. Mackworth arose and disappeared toward the kitchen where he remained some minutes. When he returned it was quite dark. The lights had been turned on in the rear room and the assembled guests presented a festive appearance. Captain Ludington and Lord Pelton were in dinner coats, as was Mr. Graham.

“I am surprised you don’t invite us to travel with you!” exclaimed Mrs. Graham as her brother made his appearance. “This is a great waste of luxury on a party of unappreciative men.”

“Who are now appearing in state for the last time,” replied Mr. Mackworth waving his hand toward his formally attired companions. “But we’ll compromise by taking your husband,” he added, nodding toward Mr. Graham.

“Not for me,” exclaimed Frank’s father, laughing. “When I go into the wilderness I don’t carry feather beds and chefs.”

The mystery of Jake’s basket came out when the party reached the dining room. Aside from the two shaded lamps and the bowl of white roses, the table was barren of decoration. Ten[117] places were laid, but only the plates, forks and heavy napkins were in sight. At a signal from Mr. Mackworth Jake removed the roses from the center of the table, and at the same moment Nelse deposited in their place a large white platter.

On this dish, devoid of decoration and wholly without sauce, were ranged several dozen golden, smoking strips from which arose an incense that was ample compensation for the removed roses. The two Englishmen leaned forward with eager curiosity. All other recognized the dish instantly.

“Gentlemen,” began Mr. Mackworth soberly, “it affords me great pleasure to present to you a delicacy that is, I take it, the daintiest edible in the world. It is a dish that must be eaten alone, unprofaned by association with other foods or drinks. Captain Ludington and Lord Pelton, in honor of your first visit to this part of the world, and with the assistance of Chef Robert, I offer you that which even your own venerated Isaac Walton never enjoyed or saw—the glory of Michigan’s woodland brooks—a dish of trout.”

[118]

With this speech Mr. Mackworth, pleased at the surprise of his guests, explained how he had telegraphed to the north the day before and ordered brook trout; how they had been caught early that morning in the Manistee and been forwarded that afternoon by express. Then, dropping his formality, their host exclaimed:

“And now, go to ’em. Remember, we may have nothing but pork and beans in a few days. Help yourselves. I don’t know what else Robert has for dinner.”

When the little golden brown fish had disappeared, held by the head and eaten like a confection—for Mr. Mackworth would permit neither knife nor fork—Captain Ludington sank back with a sigh.

“Mr. Mackworth,” he exclaimed, “of all the pleasures you have given us and promised, none can take the place of this. It is the sweetest morsel I ever ate.”

“And the cook who prepared that dish is to go with us?” asked Lord Pelton eagerly.

Mr. Mackworth looked about and nodded his head toward Jake Green.

“Robert thinks he cooked ’em,” he answered[119] laughing, “but he only thinks so. It was Jake who gave them just the dash of salt; the suspicion of pepper and a touch of flour. No railroad chef knows just the temperature of the pure olive oil into which they were dropped for a few moments. Jake,” continued Mr. Mackworth, “they were almost as good as if they had been cooked on the Little Manistee.”

“Thank you, sir,” exclaimed Jake, “but trout ain’t trout away from the stream.”

“That’s right,” said his employer. “And if we’re lucky enough to find some mountain rainbow trout where we are goin’, Jake’ll attempt his masterpiece—a balsam bake. Then he’ll serve you what the chefs of Europe can’t duplicate—a cooked trout on whose sides the gold and carmine tints are yet glowing.”

“I suppose,” broke in Mr. Graham with a laugh and addressing the Englishmen, “you’d like to know why the trout were served first and alone?”

The guests turned toward him curiously.

“My brother-in-law has created a beautiful little romance. But we don’t talk that way in the woods. The fact is that, after one or two[120] meals, we get saturated with trout. Then, when we have guests, we give them their trout first and alone. We don’t even go to the table until that course is served. If you don’t believe me, when you get a chance, watch Mackworth while he’s fishing. He don’t want to catch the trout—unless it’s a whale. He’s fly casting. He’s only thinking about his skill with the rod and the fly. When he can’t help hooking fish he sends them away at once to his friends.”

While all were laughing over this, Mr. Mackworth alone excepted, Mr. Graham continued:

“Why I once heard an old fisherman say that two meals of brook trout were great. After that he preferred, of all fish, a nice stew of salt cod with plenty of potatoes.”

In such manner the dinner in the Teton proceeded. At its conclusion there was an hour or more of leave taking between the boys and their parents and, sometime after ten o’clock, Mr. and Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Ewing withdrew. Mr. Mackworth and his guests prepared for a last smoke of the evening and after filing some telegrams for Mr. Mackworth, Frank and Phil retired to their stateroom. They were not[121] sleepy and for some time the two boys rattled along in talk of the great events to come. At last they heard their elders withdraw to their staterooms.

“I’m not goin’ to bed till we start,” announced Frank sleepily.

“We can go out and sit in the observation end after a bit,” suggested Phil. But, each being in his pajamas and in bed, when Frank looked at his watch later he was astounded to see that it was three o’clock. The car was in motion. It had been attached to the midnight train and was on its way to Chicago.

When Phil awoke his surprise was even greater, for it was after six o’clock and the heavy Teton was hammering along over the hundreds of railway intersections in the suburbs of Chicago. The two boys tumbled out at once. But they were not the first to arise. The berths in the dining room were made up; th............