Here I remained
until the next trip of the boat, December 4.
Arriving in Norfolk at dusk of the same day, I
stored my canoe in the warehouse of the Old
Dominion Steamship Company, and quietly
retired to a hotel which promised an early meal
in the morning, congratulating myself the while
that I had avoided the usual show of curiosity
tendered to canoeists at city piers, and above all
had escaped the inevitable reporter. Alas! my
thankfulness came too soon; for when about to
retire, my name was called, and a veritable
reporter from the Norfolk Landmark cut off
my retreat.
"Only a few words," he pleadingly
whispered. "I've been hunting for you all over the
city since seven o'clock, and it is near midnight
now."
He gently took my arm and politely furnished
me with a chair. Then placing his own directly
before me, he insinuatingly worked upon me
until he derived a knowledge of the log of the
Paper Canoe, when leaning back in his chair he
leisurely surveyed me and exclaimed:
"Mr. Bishop, you are a man of snap. We
like men of snap; we admire men of snap;
in fact, I may say we cotton to men of snap, and
I am proud to make your acquaintance.
