a summer in a canyon-第1章
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A Summer in a Canyon： A California Story
by Kate Douglas Wiggin
SCENE： A Camping Ground in the Canyon Las Flores。
PEOPLE IN THE TENTS。
DR。 PAUL WINSHIP Mine Host
MRS。 TRUTH WINSHIP The Guardian Angel
DICKY WINSHIP A Small Scamp of Six Years
BELL WINSHIP The Camp Poetess
POLLY OLIVER A Sweet but Saucy Lass
MARGERY NOBLE A Nut…Brown Mayde
PHILIP NOBLE The Useful Member
GEOFFREY STRONG A Harvard Boy
JACK HOWARD Prince of Mischief
HOP YET A Heathen Chinee。
PANCHO GUTIERREZ A Mexican man…of…all…work。
CHAPTER I： PREPARATION AND DEPARTURE
'One to make ready； and two to prepare。'
It was nine o'clock one sunny California morning； and Geoffrey Strong
stood under the live…oak trees in Las Flores Canyon； with a pot of
black paint in one hand and a huge brush in the other。 He could have
handled these implements to better purpose and with better grace had
not his arms been firmly held by three laughing girls； who pulled not
wisely； but too well。 He was further incommoded by the presence of a
small urchin who lay on the dusty ground beneath his feet； fastening
an upward clutch on the legs of his trousers。
There were three large canvas tents directly in front of them； yet no
one of these seemed to be the object of dissension； but rather a
redwood board； some three feet in length； which was nailed on a tree
near by。
'Camp Frolic！ Please let us name it Camp Frolic！' cried Bell
Winship； with a persuasive twitch of her cousin's sleeve。
'No； no； not Camp Frolic；' pleaded Polly Oliver。 'Pray； pray let us
have Camp Ha…Ha； my heart is set upon it。'
'As you are Strong； be merciful；' quoted Margery Noble； coaxingly；
'take my advice and call it Harmony Camp。'
At this juncture； a lovely woman； whose sweet face and smile made you
love her at once； came up the hill from the brookside。 'What； what！
still quarrelling； children？' she asked； laughingly。 'Let me be
peacemaker。 I've just asked the Doctor for a name； and he suggests
Camp Chaparral。 What do you say？'
Bell released one coat…tail。 'That isn't wholly bad；' she said；
critically； while the other girls clapped their hands with approval；
for anything that Aunt Truth suggested was sure to be quite right。
'Wait a minute； good people；' cried Jack Howard； flinging his
fishing…tackle under a tree and sauntering toward the scene of
action。 'Suppose we have a referee； a wise and noble judge。 Call
Hop Yet； and let him decide this all…important subject。'
His name being sung and shouted in various keys by the assembled
company； Hop Yet appeared at the door of the brush kitchen； a broad
grin on his countenance； a plucked fowl in his hand。
Geoffrey took the floor。 'Now； Hop Yet； you know I got name； you got
name； everybody got name。 We want name this camp： you sabe？ Miss
Bell； she say Camp Frolic。 Frolic all same heap good time' （here he
executed a sort of war…dance which was intended to express wild joy）。
'Miss Pauline； she say Camp Ha…Ha； big laugh： sabe？ Ha！ ha！ ha！ ha！
ha！ ha！' （chorus joined in by all to fully illustrate the subject）。
'Miss Madge； she say Camp Harmony。 Harmony all same heap quiet time；
plenty eat； plenty drink； plenty sleep； no fight； no too muchee talk。
Mrs。 Winship； she say Camp Chaparral： you sabe？ Chaparral； Hop Yet。
Now what you say？'
Hop Yet seemed to regard the question with mingled embarrassment and
amusement； but being a sharp and talkative Chinaman gave his answer
promptly： 'Me say Camp Chap…lal heap good name； plenty chap…lal all
lound； me hang um dish…cloth； tow'l； little boy's stockin'； on chap…
lal； all same clo'se…line velly good。 Miss Bell she folic； Miss
Polly she ha！ ha！ allee same Camp Chap…lal。'
And so Camp Chaparral it was； the redwood board flaunted the
assertion before the eyes of the public （which was a rather limited
one； to be sure） in less than half an hour； and the artist； after
painting the words in rustic letters a foot long； cut branches of the
stiff； ungracious bushes and nailed them to the tree in confirmation
and illustration of the fact。 He then carefully deposited the paint…
pot in a secret place； where it might be out of sight and touch of a
certain searching eye and mischievous hand well known and feared of
him； but before the setting sun had dropped below the line of purple
mountain tops； a small boy； who will be known in these annals as
Dicky Winship； might have been seen sitting on the empty paint…pot；
while from a dingy pool upon the ground he was attempting to paint a
copy of the aforesaid inscription upon the side of a too patient
goat； who saw no harm in the operation。 He was alone； and very； very
happy。
And now I must tell you the way in which all this began。 You may not
realise it； dear young folks； but this method of telling a story is
very much the fashion with grown…up people； and of course I am not to
blame； since I didn't begin it。
The plan is this： You must first write a chapter showing all your
people； men； women； children； dogs； and cats； in a certain place；
doing certain things。 Then you must go back a year or two and
explain how they all happen to be there。 Perhaps you may have to
drag your readers twenty…five years into the regions of the past； and
show them the first tooth of your oldest character； but that doesn't
matter a bit；the further the better。 Then； when everybody has
forgotten what came to pass in the first chapter； you are ready to
take it up again； as if there had never been any parenthesis。
However； I shall not introduce you to the cradles； cribs； or trundle…
beds of my merry young campers； but merely ask you to retrace your
steps one week； and look upon them in their homes。
On one of the pleasantest streets of a certain little California town
stood； and still stands for aught I know； a pretty brown cottage；
with its verandahs covered with passion…vine and a brilliant rose…
garden in front。 It is picturesque enough to attract the attention
of any passer…by； and if you had chosen to peep through the crevices
in the thick vines and look in at the open window； you might have
thought it lovelier within than without。
It was a bright day； and the gracious June sunshine flooded the room
with yellow light。 Three young girls； perhaps fourteen or fifteen
years old； were seated in different parts of the large room； plying
industrious crochet needles and tatting shuttles。 Three pairs of
bright eyes were dancing with fun and gladness； and another pair； the
softest and clearest of all； looked out from a broad white bed in the
corner；tired eyes； and oh； so patient； for the health…giving
breezes wafted in from the blue ocean and carried over mountain tops
and vine…covered slopes had so far failed to bring back Elsie
Howard's strength and vigour。
The graceful； brown…haired girl with the bright； laughter…loving
face； was Bell Winship。 She of the dancing blue eyes； pink cheeks；
and reckless little sun…bonnet was Pauline； otherwise Polly Oliver。
Did you ever know a Polly without some one of these things？ Well； my
Polly had them all； and； besides； a saucy freckled nose； a crown of
fluffy； reddish…yellow hair； and a shower of coaxing little pitfalls
called dimples round her pretty mouth。 She made you think of a
sunbeam； a morning songbird； a dancing butterfly； or an impetuous
little crocus just out after the first spring shower。 Dislike her？
You couldn't。 Approve of her？ You wouldn't always。 Love her？ Of
course； you couldn't help yourself；I defy you。
To be sure； if you prefer a quiet life； and do not want to be led
into exploits of all kinds； invariably beginning with risk； attended
with danger； and culminating in despair； you had better not engage in
an intimate friendship with Miss Pauline Oliver； but fix your
affections on the quiet； thoughtful； but not less lovable girl who
sits by the bedside stroking Elsie Howard's thin white hand。
Nevertheless； I am obliged to state that Margery Noble herself；
earnest； demure； and given to reflection； was Polly's willing
