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Updated: June 4, 2025
But out on Lake Wissanotti, far out, so that you can only just see the lights of the town away off to the south, when the propeller comes to a stop, and you can hear the hiss of steam as they start to rake out the engine fires to prevent an explosion, and when you turn from the red glare that comes from the furnace doors as they open them, to the black dark that is gathering over the lake, and there's a night wind beginning to run among the rushes, and you see the men going forward to the roof of the pilot house to send up the rockets to rouse the town, safe?
Gallagher's house, the Mariposa Tennis Club rent it, you remember, for fifty cents a month, and Pupkin used to perform perfect prodigies of valour, leaping in the air to serve with his little body hooked like a letter S. Sometimes, too, they went out on Lake Wissanotti in the evening in Pupkin's canoe, with Zena sitting in the bow and Pupkin paddling in the stern and they went out ever so far and it was after dark and the stars were shining before they came home.
Out on the lake the last thin threads of the mist are clearing away like flecks of cotton wool. The long call of the loon echoes over the lake. The air is cool and fresh. There is in it all the new life of the land of the silent pine and the moving waters. Lake Wissanotti in the morning sunlight! Don't talk to me of the Italian lakes, or the Tyrol or the Swiss Alps. Take them away.
I was not talking about a steamer sinking in the ocean and carrying down its screaming crowds of people into the hideous depths of green water. Oh, dear me no! That kind of thing never happens on Lake Wissanotti. But what does happen is that the Mariposa Belle sinks every now and then, and sticks there on the bottom till they get things straightened up.
The little town changes to a sort of summer resort. There are visitors up from the city. Every one of the seven cottages along the lake is full. The Mariposa Belle churns the waters of the Wissanotti into foam as she sails out from the wharf, in a cloud of flags, the band playing and the daughters and sisters of the Knights of Pythias dancing gaily on the deck. That changes too. The days shorten.
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