"Nice 'Saucy Seven' those chaps will make of our holiday," groaned one
of the grads. "'Sorry Seven,' we'd better call ourselves, I say, and
to-morrow I'm for moving, striking camp at daylight and getting away
from that gang that camps with _rugs_." The last word took on the
expression of an article of actual disgrace. "Hello! They're running up
the colors," interrupted Bob. "It's a Union Jack, all right. Perhaps
they're not such rummies, after all."
Then, after much peering and squinting, they made out that the biggest
tent stretched directly at the base of the flagstaff, and contained the
despised scarlet rugs, which the boys were still jeering at when they
noticed a little canoe, singly manned, put out from the rocky ledge and
make swiftly towards them. The Saucy Seven unbent sufficiently to all
go in a body to the landing. Their minds were fully made up to invite
the intruder to "shinny on his own side," and not come "moseying"
around the camp, when the canoeist beached his bow and sprang lightly
ashore. He was a very handsome young man, clean shaven and merry-eyed,
and, touching his cap lightly, he said in a tremendously English voice:
"Beg pardon, gentlemen, sorry to trouble you, but His Excellency, the
Governor-General, presents his compliments, and would you kindly lend
him a can of condensed milk? Our cook seems to have forgotten
everything. We haven't a drop for our coffee."
The Saucy Seven raised seven disgraceful-looking caps, but only one
spoke. It was the biggest grad. "Why, we're honored. We had no idea who
it was."
"Oh, that's all right," answered the Englishman. "You know His
Excellency goes camping for a day or two every year, just for the fun
and fish and things."
"Fish? Does he like fish?" asked Bob. Then, without waiting for a reply,
he disappeared, only to return with the can of condensed milk and three
splendid four-pound bass he had landed for their own supper. He looked
shyly at the young aide-de-camp, handing him the can, and said, "Will
you present our compliments to His Excellency, and ask him to accept
these for supper?"
"Delighted, I'm sure," said the officer. "He's fond of bass. Thanks
for the milk, gentlemen. Perhaps we can help you out some time." And
in another minute the canoe was skimming away towards the point, where
the Union Jack hung idly against a background of firs, but just before
the Englishman was out of hearing the big grad yelled, "Tell the
Governor-General that the fish were caught and sent by Bobbie."
"All right," came faintly across the distance, with a wave of the smart
little cap, and a bright backward smile from the handsome Englishman.
The Saucy Seven looked at each other, then the big grad simply expressed
things in one explosive "Well!"
"No, I don't think we'll move to-morrow," said one.
"Move from here!" said another.
"Well, I'm a frazzle," added a third.
"The Governor-General of all Canada," gasped another.
"And borrowing milk from us!" chimed in two more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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