But leaving out this little matter of Kit’s preference, and also the other little matter of the trout’s preference, I feel sure that an arbutus-trouting is peculiarly satisfying. It meets every human need—the need of food and beauty, the need of feeling strong and skillful, the need of becoming deeply aware of nature as living and kind. Moreover, it is very satisfying afterwards. As we sat that evening, over a late supper, with a shallow dish of arbutus beside us, I remarked, “The advantage of getting arbutus is, that you bring the whole day home with you and have it at your elbow.”
“The advantage of getting trout,” remarked Jonathan dreamily, as if to himself, “is, that you bring your whole day home with you, and have it for breakfast.”
“Jonathan, did you ever live without a clock,—whole days, I mean,—days and days—”
“When I was a boy—most of the time, I suppose. But the family didn’t like it.”
“Yes, I liked it all. I seem to remember getting pretty hungry sometimes, but it’s all rather good as I look back on it.”
“No. Society is an enlarged family, and wouldn’t like it. But this summer, when we camp.”
“The things we know best we don’t always know how we know.”
“_When_ we camp—let’s live without a watch.”
As it turned out, my “when” was truer than Jonathan’s “if.” We did camp. We did, however, use watches to get there: when we expressed our baggage, when we sent our canoe, when we took the trolley car and the train; and the watch was still going as our laden craft nosed gently against the bank of the river-island that was to be our home for two weeks. It was late afternoon, and the shadows of the steep woods on the western bank had already turned the rocks in midstream from silver to gray, and dimmed the brightness of the swift water, almost to the eastern shore.
“Will there be time to get settled before dark?” I asked, as we stepped out into the shallow water and drew up the canoe to unload.
“Shall I look at my watch to see?” asked Jonathan, with a note of amiable derision in his voice.
“Well, I _should_ rather like to know what time it is. We won’t begin till to-morrow.”
“You mean, we won’t begin to stop watching. All right. It’s just seventeen and a half minutes after five. I’ll give you the seconds if you like.”