"Now, bears have a way," continued Marco, "whenever they are angry with anything, of grasping it in their arms and hugging it tight. The man did not think of this; he only hoped that the saw would saw the bear in two. The log moved on nearer and nearer, and at last brought the bear along so far that the next stroke cut right down his back. He immediately turned around and seized the saw, and hugged it with all his strength, and it tore him all to pieces."

"Indeed," said Forester. "That is quite a story."

Forester did not seem so much astonished at this account as Marco had expected, but farther conversation on the subject was prevented by the occurring of a new object of attention. The millman began to make arrangements for drawing up more logs from the water of the river, by means of a long chain passing around a revolving axis, in the manner which has been already explained.

Marco watched the first log, as it came slowly up, and then he wanted to go down the inclined plane to the water below. The moon was just rising, which gave them sufficient light, and so Forester and Marco went down. Marco wanted to ride up on the next log, but Forester thought that that would be a very dangerous experiment. There was, however, a boat lying there, which, Forester said, perhaps they might get into, and take a little excursion upon the water, by moonlight. Marco thought that he should like that very well, and so he went up into the mill again, to ask permission to take the boat. The millman said that they might have the boat all night, if they wanted it.

Marco accordingly returned down the inclined plane, telling Forester that they could have the boat. But Forester, who began to find the evening air too cold and chilly, said that he did not think it was worth while for them to set out on a voyage at so late an hour. But Marco's imagination was so much taken with the idea of a voyage in a boat by moonlight, that he was very urgent to have Forester go. So Forester consented, and they both got into the boat.

"Which way shall we steer?" asked Marco.

"We must go up the stream," said Forester.

"Why must we?" asked Marco.

"Because there is a dam and a waterfall below us," replied Forester.

There was a dam across the river, at the mill, and the inclined plane, which led from the floor of the mill down to the shore of the river, terminated at the edge of the water just above the dam. The water was so low that it did not fall over the dam near the shore, though Forester and Marco could hear the roaring of the water, which fell over the dam nearer the middle of the river.

"We must take care," said Marco, "or we shall get carried over the dam. I read of an Indian once, who was carried over the falls of Niagara."

"Yes," said Forester; "we must be careful."

Forester turned the head of the boat up the river, keeping near the shore, so as to avoid all possibility of being carried over the dam. The boat shot along swiftly through the water.

"The boat goes very well," said Marco.

"Yes," replied Forester; "and yet it is only a log canoe."

"A log canoe," said Marco. "Is this only a log canoe?"

"That is all," replied Forester. "It is made of a log, hollowed out. They use a great many such boats on this river. They go very easily with paddles."

Forester and Marco both had paddles. Marco sat about in the middle of the boat, but Forester sat in the stern, propelling the boat and steering it at the same time. When they got up a little way above the dam, they went out farther towards the middle of the river. Forester soon became warm by the exercise of paddling, and had no disposition to return. They both found it very romantic and delightful to glide smoothly over the glassy surface of the water, which was silvered by the moonbeams.

They soon came to a turn in the river, which carried them away from the sight of the mills and the dam, and brought them under high banks, which, in some places, presented rocky cliffs to the view, and, in others, were covered with forests. This scenery had a peculiarly sombre and solemn expression, seen thus, under the light of the moon. Marco gazed at it in silence, and with a feeling of awe.

They went on in this manner for half an hour, until they found themselves approaching a rocky island, crowned with forests. Marco wanted to land upon it.

"Very well," said Forester; "I have no objection; but would you not rather go back?"

"No," said Marco. "I want to explore this island."

"But are you not cold?" asked Forester.

"No," said Marco, "not at all."

"My hands and feet are a little cold," said Forester.

"Then we will go back pretty soon," said Marco, "but first just let us land a minute upon this island."

So Forester turned the head of the boat towards the shore, and Marco, as soon as it touched, scrambled out upon the rocks.

"Oh, Forester!" he exclaimed, at once, "here is plenty of drift-wood. Let us make a fire, and warm your hands and feet."

"Drift-wood?" rejoined Forester. "Will drift-wood make a fire?"

"Why not?" asked Marco.

"I should think it would be too wet," replied Forester.

Marco said no more, but, at that instant, Forester observed a little flash, and then a faint glimmer of light where Marco was. He had lighted a match by rubbing it against some drift-wood. He touched it to some dry bark, and soon had a pleasant little blaze upon the rocks, near the shore. He piled on pieces of drift-wood, such as branches of trees, old slabs, &c., which he found lying about there, and he soon had a very good fire. Forester sat down upon the rocks, and warmed his hands and feet.

"I wish I had a hatchet here," said Marco, "or an axe."

"Why?" asked Forester.

"Why, we could make a camp, and lie here all night," said Marco.

"O, no," said Forester.

"Yes," said Marco, "for the man said we might have his boat all night."

"No," replied Forester. "We will camp out when we get fairly into the forests on Dead river."

Accordingly, after a little time, when the fire had burnt down somewhat, they threw the brands into the river, and then, embarking in their boat, they returned to the mill.



CHAPTER VIII.

THE BIVOUACK.

Marco and Forester had an opportunity to encamp for the night, in the woods, in a manner different from what they expected. It happened in this way. In the course of their rambles among the forests which are about the lakes and the upper branches of the Kennebec, they came, one night, to a farm-house, where they had to spend the night. The house was built of logs. It was in a small opening in the woods. This opening was occupied with fields, which were divided from each other by log fences. The fields were full of stumps. The whole opening was bordered on every side by a perpendicular wall of forest,—the tall stems forming a colonnade, which reminded Marco of the palisades on the North river, just above New York.

There was but one room in this log house, and, at first, Marco did not know where he and Forester were to sleep. There was a great blazing fire in the fire-place, which was made of rough stones. The hearth was made of great flat stones. These stones were tolerably smooth on the upper side; but, as they were not square, there were many spaces left between them, and at the corners, which were filled with earth. But, though the fire-place was rough, the great fire blazed merrily in it; and Marco thought that it was pleasanter than his father's marble fire-place, in New York, with a grate in it, filled with a hard coal fire, looking like red-hot stones.

"I wish we had such a fire-place as this in New York," said Marco.

"And wood to burn in it," replied Forester.

"O, we can get wood enough in New York," said Marco. "The carmen bring it along every morning. We might have such a fire-place down in the basement, or in that little room in the stable, and then I would go and build fires in it."

Just then, the farmer's wife came with a spider to the fire, to broil some chickens for their supper. She pulled out the coals with a long-handled iron shovel, which she called a slice. She cooked the young travellers a most excellent supper.

The farmer and his wife were both rather young. They had one child. He was asleep in the cradle. This cradle was only a box, made of boards, and mounted on rockers. Marco asked the farmer if he made the cradle himself, and he said he did.

There was a boy living in this house, named Isaiah. Isaiah was the farmer's brother. He worked hard all day on the farm, and at night he slept in a sort of garret, which they called the loft. The way to get up to the loft was by a ladder on one side of the room.

When bed-time came, Forester and Marco climbed up this ladder, and went to bed. They slept upon a straw bed, which was lying in a corner. They had two clean but very coarse sheets, and a good warm coverlid. Marco crept in well under the eaves of the house, but Forester slept on the outer side of the bed, where the roof was higher.

Marco was awaked in the night by a strange sound, which he heard, directly over his head. He lifted up his head and listened. It was the pattering of rain upon the roof. The roof was, however, very tight, and none of the rain came in. The roof was covered with shingles, which the farmer had made himself, in a little shop near his house.

Marco listened to the rain a few minutes, and then went to sleep again. He was glad to hear it rain, because he wanted to stay at this house the next day, and he thought Forester would not go away in the rain.

The next that he knew was that it was morning. He spoke to Forester, saying,

"It rains, cousin Forester."

"Does it?" said Forester. "Then I don't know what we shall do."

"We must stay here, to-day," said Marco. "Then I can see Isaiah make a shingle. Isaiah can make a shingle. Did you know it?"

"I don't hear it rain," said Forester.

"I mean to get up and see," said Marco.

There was no glass window in this garret, but the light shone through the chinks between the logs. There was a wooden window, as Marco called it; that is, there was an opening in the wall, with a wooden shutter to close it. Marco went to this window and opened it. He looked out upon the wild and solitary scene which was before him with great interest. At length he said,

"No, cousin Forester, it does not rain,—but I wish you would stay here to-day."

"Very well," said Forester. "I will stay here as long as you wish."

Marco was rejoiced to hear this; and he spent two hours, after breakfast, in rambling about the farmer's house and grounds. He went into the little shop, and amused himself for half an hour in seeing Isaiah make shingles. Isaiah let him try to make one himself, and he succeeded pretty well. He carried his shingle in to Forester to show it to him.

Forester said he thought it was a very good shingle.

"I should like to carry it home," said Marco; "but I suppose you would think that that would be a foolish plan."

"No," said Forester, "I do not think it would be foolish. The shingle is flat, and will lie down in the bottom of your trunk; and, after you get tired of it as a shingle, you can have a little box made of it, and keep it all your life, as a memorial of this expedition."

This was a very good plan, for Marco had not shaved his shingle very thin. In fact, it was of about equal thickness at the two ends. This, though a very serious fault in a shingle, made it much more suitable as a material for making a box of.

Marco also amused himself for half an hour in going down to the spring, where the farmer's wife went to get water, and playing there. There was a pleasant little path leading from the house down to the spring. He went down once alone, and brought up a pail half full of water, for the farmer's wife, which seemed to please her very much.

While he was doing these things, Forester remained in the house, writing letters. Before Forester had finished his last letter, however, Marco had got tired of all his amusements, and began to think that they had better resume their journey.

"Very well," said Forester; "whenever you say the word."

"How are you going?" asked Marco.

"I have made a bargain with the farmer," said Forester, "to let us have his wagon to go through the woods about twenty-five miles, and Isaiah is going with us, in order to drive the wagon back."

Marco was much pleased with this arrangement, and Forester asked him what time they should start. "We are under your direction, you know," said he.

"Yes," said Marco, "and I wish you would let me have the direction all day."

"I have a great mind to do it," said Forester.

"Do," said Marco, "and see how well I'll manage."

"Well," said Forester; "I will give up the command to you till I resume it again."

Marco was quite pleased with his new powers. He said they must take a hatchet and a bag of provisions, for he meant to dine in the woods on the way. Isaiah accordingly put a hatchet in the wagon. They also took some bread and cheese, and some other articles of food, in a bag; and also a tin dipper, to drink from. When all was ready, Marco called Forester, and they set off. Their trunk was put into the wagon behind.

They went on very well for ten miles. The road led through thick forests for a large part of the way, and it was very stony and rough. But the wilderness, and even the difficulties of the way, interested Marco very much. He thought that it was much pleasanter travelling through those forest scenes, the wheels of the wagon sometimes jolting over roots, stones, logs, and sometimes sinking in the mire, than riding in a carriage, as he had often done with his mother, over the smooth and broad avenues leading into New York.

After they had gone about ten miles, they were brought to a sudden stop by a tree, which had been blown down, and had fallen directly across the road.

"What is to be done now?" said Marco.

Nobody answered.

"What is to be done now, cousin Forester?" repeated Marco.

"I don't know," said Forester. "I've nothing to do with it. You are commander."

"Oh, very well," said Marco. "Then I'll decide what to do. We'll chop the tree off with our hatchet."

Marco bustled about with an air of great importance, taking the hatchet from the back of the wagon, and advancing towards the tree, as if he expected to sunder it at a single blow. He looked towards Isaiah, and, seeing a lurking smile upon his countenance, he immediately perceived how absurd was the idea of chopping off such an enormous stem with a hatchet.

He accordingly turned suddenly about, saying,

"No; we can't cut it off with the hatchet. It is too big; or, rather, the hatchet is too little. We'll see if we can't find a way to get around it."

So Marco asked Forester to look on one side of the road, while he and Isaiah examined the other side. They found that, by cutting down one or two small trees, they could get around very well. So Marco directed to have these trees cut down, and then they led the horse around without much difficulty, excepting a slight obstruction from the bushes.

Marco was quite pleased with the successful result of his management in this first serious emergency. They rode on five miles farther, and then Marco determined that it would be a good plan to look out for a place for their dinner. He chose a place in a pleasant dell, overshadowed by tall pines and hemlocks, and watered by a brook which meandered through the middle of it.

Marco directed Isaiah to drive the horse out to one side of the road, at a place where there was a pretty broad and level spot, which seemed to Marco a convenient place for the horse to stand. Marco told Forester that he and Isaiah might go and employ themselves in finding a good spot for them to make a fire, and in collecting some dry wood, while he fastened the horse. Isaiah accordingly took the axe, and Marco was to bring the bag of provisions.

Marco drew the horse out of the road, and brought his head up near to the stem of a little tree, which was growing there. He then took out the bag, and made his way through the bushes, in the direction in which Forester and Isaiah had gone, down a little cow path, which descended to the bank of the brook.

He found Forester and Isaiah very readily. Forester was seated upon a flat stone near the water, and Isaiah was gathering dry sticks for a fire. It was a warm and pleasant day, and they wanted a fire, not so much for its warmth, as for the cheerful and pleasant aspect it gave to the place. There was a gentle breeze blowing that day in the open ground. This breeze was not felt among the trees, but it caused a gentle draft of air, which carried all the smoke away from them, and made their seat, on the great flat stone, very pleasant.

"Have you fastened the horse?" said Forester.

"Yes," replied Marco.

"You ought to fasten him pretty strong," said Isaiah, "for he's very apt to get away."

"O, he won't get away," said Marco; "I fastened him to a good stout tree."



When the fire was burning well, Isaiah and Marco buried some potatoes, which they had brought with them, in the embers under it. They also put some apples down to roast on a flat stone, which they placed near the fire.

"I wish we had some Carolina potatoes," said Marco.

"What kind of potatoes are they?" asked Isaiah.

"They are sweet. They would be excellent to roast in the woods."

"I never heard of a potato being sweet," said Isaiah.

"Yes," said Marco. "They have plenty of them in New York."

"Then why don't they call them New York potatoes?" asked Isaiah.

"Why, I believe they came from Carolina first," said Marco. "And now I want a long stick for a toaster."

So Marco cut a long stick, and, after he had made the end sharp, he put a slice of bread upon it, and placed it before the fire, and thus toasted the bread. It is remarkable that the business of cooking the food, which, in houses and cities, is considered a disagreeable drudgery, which is to be kept as much as possible out of sight, is always in the woods a very important part of the entertainment, in which all the guests are pleased to take a share.



CHAPTER IX.

THE ENCAMPMENT.

Our party of travellers remained at the place of their bivouack more than an hour. At the end of that time, having eaten all that they had cooked, they began to think of resuming their journey. Marco was sitting upon the stone, wishing that he had put down one more potato to roast, when suddenly he perceived a large grey squirrel upon a log near him. The squirrel ran along the log, and Marco immediately rose and went in pursuit of him.

The squirrel ascended a tree, running up the stem. Then he glided along one of the branches till he came to the end of it, when he leaped through the air and caught the end of another branch, which was growing from another tree. This branch, which was very slender, bent down half way to the ground under the squirrel's weight. Bunny ran up the branch, however, as easily as if it remained level. Thus he went along from tree to tree, following, generally, the direction of the path by which Marco had descended in coming from the wagon.

At length he emerged from the wood, just at the point where Marco had fastened the horse. But all farther pursuit of him, on the part of Marco, was suddenly arrested by the astounding fact, which here burst suddenly upon Marco, that the horse and wagon were gone. Marco looked all about, this way and that, to assure himself that it was the very same place where he had fastened the horse. There could be no doubt of it. There was the very tree to which he had tied him, and the marks of his feet, near it, upon the ground.

Marco was in consternation. He looked all around, and then ran into the road and looked both ways, but no signs of the horse were to be seen. He then hurried back to the edge of the woods and called out in a loud voice:

"Cousin Forester! Isaiah! cousin Forester! our horse has got away."

Isaiah sprang from the seat and ran, quicker than the squirrel had done, up the path. As he came out to the place where Marco was standing, Marco began to say, "There's where I tied him. I fastened him strong to that tree." But Isaiah paid no attention to what he said, but ran directly to the road. He did not stop to look both ways, but taking the road which led towards his home, he ran along as fast as he could go. Marco followed him as far as into the road, and looked after him as long as he could see him. Isaiah was, however, soon out of sight, and Marco went back to find Forester. Forester was coming up the path very leisurely, bringing the bag, with the remaining provisions in it, in one hand, and the hatchet in the other.

"Well, cousin Forester," said Marco, "we are in a fine condition. Our horse and wagon have run away, and now Isaiah has run away too."

"I think Isaiah will come back pretty soon," said Forester. "As to the horse and wagon, that is more doubtful."

"And then what shall we do?" asked Marco.

"I don't know," said Forester. "We are ten miles from any house in one direction, and fifteen in another. But I'm not commander. It's nothing to me. I've only to obey orders. I'll do whatever you say."

"Yes, but I should think you might advise me," said Marco. "Generals get advice from their captains and colonels in battle."

"Oh yes," said Forester; "I'll advise you. I think we had better wait first till Isaiah comes back. Perhaps he'll find the horse."

They waited about fifteen minutes, and then Isaiah came back. But he had no horse. He said he went on until he reached the top of a hill where he could see the road for a long distance before him, but that the horse was not to be seen.

"He'll get home before I should overtake him," said Isaiah.

"Yes," said Marco, "unless he stopped where the tree fell across the road."

"True," said Isaiah; "perhaps he has stopped there."

"Or would not he find his way round the tree through the woods?" asked Marco.

"I don't know," said Isaiah; "perhaps he would."

"Is he a pretty sensible horse?" asked Marco.

"Yes," replied Isaiah; "we have to keep the granary door locked, or else he will open the latch with his teeth, and go in and get the corn."

"Then," said Marco, "I've no doubt that he will find his way around the tree and go home; and so we've got nothing to do but to walk back fifteen miles."

"Or forward ten," said Forester.

"Yes," said Marco; "we can go on, to be sure, if we only knew the way."

Here followed a long discussion as to what it was best to do. Marco thought that, if there was any probability that the horse would have stopped at the tree, it would be better for him to go back and get him; but that, if he had got by the tree, and had gone home, it would be better for Isaiah to go back and get him, while they went forward to the end of the day's journey. He said that the trunk might be sent on.

Forester was himself very much at a loss to know what it was best to do. As it was farther to go back than it was to go forward, it would be plainly best for them to keep on, were it not for the difficulty of finding their way. But Isaiah told them he thought they would not have any difficulty on that account, as there were very few roads in such a new country. He said that, if they kept the principal road, they could get along without any trouble.

So Marco and Forester concluded to go on, while Isaiah returned. Isaiah said that he was not afraid to return alone. He said also that, if he found the horse at the tree, he would turn about and come and overtake them. And if he did not find him there, he would walk on home, and come the next day with their trunk.

Marco and Forester then went back to the place where they had dined, and collected together all the food which had been left, thinking that they might possibly have occasion to use it, before getting to the end of their journey. They also took the hatchet with them, and bidding Isaiah good-by, they set forth upon their solitary journey.

The road, though rough and narrow for wheels, was very good for a foot-path, and the travellers went on for several miles without difficulty, and with good courage. There was an unbroken forest on each side of the way, with here and there a solitary bird in the topmost branches, singing in melancholy notes, which echoed far and wide under the endless colonnades of trees. After they had gone on about four miles, they met a man coming with a team, who told them that there was no road of any consequence to turn them off, and that they would, therefore, probably find their way without much trouble. They were quite pleased to hear this. In fact, it was some relief to them to know that they were right, so far.

Marco was, however, not much accustomed to walk, and Forester, to accommodate him, advanced slowly. When they had gone about five or six miles, the shades of evening began to draw on. The days were getting shorter at this season of the year, and then, besides, it happened that, on this evening, there were some dark clouds in the west, and the sun was darkened behind them before the regular hour of his going down. Then, besides, the trees of the forest made it darker in the road in which Marco and Forester were travelling.

Now, just as it was thus beginning to grow dark, they happened to come to a place where the road divided, and Marco and Forester were both puzzled to decide which was the one which they must take. The roads seemed to be nearly equally travelled, though it was so dark that they could not see very well. They examined both as carefully as they could, and finally decided according to the best of their judgment, and went on.

They had some doubt whether they were right, and Forester thought, as they proceeded, that the road appeared somewhat different from the one in which they had been travelling. However, they thought it best to go on. After advancing about two miles, in a very circuitous direction, they came at last to a place where several trees seemed to have been cut away, and there were remains of several log huts. Marco was very much interested in this discovery, and he wanted to examine the huts very particularly. But Forester, when he found that they were not inhabited, thought it best to lose no time, especially as it was now beginning to be quite dark, and he urged Marco to leave the huts and press on.

They went on for half a mile farther, when Marco, seeing a glimmer through the trees, exclaimed that they were coming to some water.

"So it is," said Forester. "It looks like a pond or a river. If it is a river, we're lost."

They walked on a short distance farther, and then they began to hear the rippling of the water. In a few minutes, they were down upon the bank. It was a small river, flowing rapidly along, between banks overhung with bushes. Marco looked for a bridge, or for some place to cross, but they found none. In fact, the road did not go down to the water, but seemed to lose itself among the trees, before reaching the bank.

"This is not our road," said Forester. "We must go back."

"What road can this be?" asked Marco. "It seems to lead nowhere."

"I presume it is a logging road," replied Forester.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Marco. "Why, I suppose that those huts must have been a logging camp, where the men lived in the winter, when they came here to cut logs; and this is the road that they drew the logs by, down to the water. But this summer it has been neglected. They don't cut the logs in the summer."

"And what shall we do?" asked Marco.

"We must go back to the place where the road branched off," replied Forester.

"Or else go and stay in the huts all night," said Marco.

"Yes," replied Forester, "we can do that. Let us go back and see."

They accordingly went back to the huts. Marco asked Forester whether he thought they had better stay there.

"I don't know," said Forester, "Let us strike a light, and see how the huts look."

Marco took out his match-box, and, after first gathering a few dry sticks, he struck a light, and soon made a little fire. They found a birch tree growing near, and they stripped off some pieces of the bark. These they laid upon the fire, holding the ends of two long sticks upon them, in such a manner, that, as the pieces of birch bark curled up under the influence of the heat, they curled around the ends of these sticks, thus making flambeaux. These flambeaux, though of rude construction, gave a very excellent light, and Marco and Forester walked about the huts, waving them in the air, and illuminating the whole scene in a very brilliant manner.

They found that the huts were in a ruinous state. Only one of them had a roof, and that had been originally made of hemlock branches, which had now become entirely dry by long exposure. This covered hut was only a sort of booth, being entirely open on one side. Forester said that he recollected having heard of such huts, and that the men built their fire, not in them, but on the ground opposite the open side.

Forester and Marco concluded to remain in this hut for the night. They got together a great many hemlock branches, which they spread in the bottom of it for a bed, and they built a fire opposite the open part, to keep them warm.

Marco took a great interest in this fire. He piled the dry sticks upon it until he had a very warm and cheerful blaze, and then he collected by the side of it a heap of fuel, to use during the night.

In fact, Marco raised his fire too high; for, from the column of smoke and sparks, one little brilliant fragment lighted upon their roof; and it was slowly burning and smoking there, while Forester and Marco were opening their bag of provisions, to see what they could make out for supper.

Marco was counting out the potatoes, saying, "two for you, and two for me," when his attention was arrested by a spark which, at that instant, fell into his lap. He looked up to see where it came from, and saw that the fire, which had spread from the original spark which had fallen upon the roof, had burned a hole through, and the air, which was drawn up through the opening, was at that moment fanning it into a flame.

Marco ran out, calling out, "Get some water! Get some water!"

There was plenty of water in a brook, which flowed with a murmuring sound down a little glen behind the huts, but there were no buckets, and Marco called in vain. It would have been equally useless to have raised an alarm of fire, as there was nobody within ten miles to hear the cry. The flames spread rapidly, and Forester and Marco soon saw that there was nothing to be done but for them to stand quietly by and witness the conflagration. The flames rose very high and raged fiercely, and the light shone far into the forest, bringing into distinct view the whole scene around, which had been involved in deep obscurity. The roof was soon consumed, but the logs, of which the walls had been built, were much longer in burning. The fire made by these logs, when they fell in together upon the bed which Forester and Marco had prepared, was so intensely hot that it could not be approached for a long time.

As soon as the intensity of this fire had a little declined, Forester said that they must go to work and build themselves another hut. They examined the ruins of those which remained, but they concluded that it would be better to build a new one than to attempt to repair one of these. They accordingly determined to build one anew.

They found two young trees, growing pretty near each other, which had branches about six feet from the ground, so situated that they could place a strong pole across from one tree to the other, resting the ends upon the branches. This, Marco called the ridge-pole. They then cut other poles, which they placed with the end on one side upon the ground, and the other ends upon the ridge-pole. These were rafters, and upon the rafters they placed a great many branches of hemlock, which formed a roof. This roof, however, was only upon one side. The other side of the hut was open, and they built a fire opposite this opening, feeling safe in regard to their roof, as it was made of green branches.



This work occupied them an hour. At the end of that time, they put their potatoes into the fire to roast, and then laid down upon the hemlock beds which they made, to rest themselves a little while, till the potatoes should be done. Wearied with their long walk and the labors of the evening, they fell asleep, and did not wake again till four o'clock the next morning.



CHAPTER X.

LOST IN THE WOODS.

When Marco awoke, he at first supposed that he had been asleep about an hour, and he was surprised to see how much the fire had burned down in that time. He crept towards it, and began to put the brands together, when suddenly he recollected the potatoes. So he began to feel for them in the ashes, by means of a long stick, which they had obtained for a poker. The potatoes were all burnt to a cinder.

Marco then awoke Forester, saying,

"Cousin Forester! cousin Forester! wake up. The fire has gone out, and our potatoes are all burnt up."

Forester awoke, and, after looking at the fire, and at the charred and blackened remains of the potatoes a moment, he took out his watch, and said,

"Why, Marco, it is four o'clock. It is almost morning."

"Is it?" said Marco. "Then we have not got much more time to sleep. Let us build up a good fire, and then lie down again."

"Yes," replied Forester. "We must keep up a good fire, or we shall take cold, it is such a cool night. It looks as if it were going to rain."

"What shall we do in that case?" asked Marco.

"I don't know," replied Forester. "It would be rather a hard case for us."

"We could stay here, I suppose," said Marco. "I don't think the rain would come through our roof."

"No," said Forester, "not much. But then we have nothing to eat."

"Could not we get anything to eat about here?" asked Marco.

"Not very well," replied Forester. "We have got money enough, but this is a case where money does not seem to be of any use."

"How do the men who come here in the winter to cut down the trees, get anything to eat?" asked Marco.

"O, they bring it all with them," said Forester. "The roads are better, in the winter, for sleds and sleighs, than they are now for wheels; for then all the stumps and roughnesses are covered up with the snow. So, wherever there is a camp, there is a road leading to it, and sleigh loads of provisions are brought up for the men, from time to time, all the winter."

"I wish one would come now," said Marco, "to us."

"I wish so too," said Forester. "But it is of no use to wish, and so we may as well lie down and go to sleep again."

"But, Forester," said Marco, "I don't see what we are going to do if it rains."

"Nor do I," said Forester. "But this is not the time for forming a plan. This is the time for going to sleep. I make it a rule, in all perplexities and troubles, when there is nothing to be done immediately in order to get out of them, to lie down and go to sleep."

Marco said no more, and Forester was soon asleep again. Marco himself felt so much concern about his situation that he could not go to sleep for some time. He lay watching the flames, which were creeping slowly around the logs which he and Forester had put upon the fire; for, while they had been holding the conversation above described, they had been employed in replenishing the fire.

Marco heard a sound, which, at first, he thought was a bear. He was on the point of awakening Forester, but, after listening a little longer, he concluded that it was only the roaring of the wind upon the tops of the trees. After lifting his head from his pillow of hemlock branches for a moment, until he satisfied himself that it was no wild beast, he lay down again and went to sleep.

He was awakened again, about three hours afterwards, by a long rumbling clap of thunder.

"What is that?" said Forester. "Thunder?"

"I believe it is," said Marco.

"And it rains, I believe," said Forester.

Marco raised his head, and looked out through the open part of the hut. He saw the drops of rain descending, and he heard the murmuring sound which the rain makes when falling upon the leaves in a forest. He saw, too, that everything was wet in the opening about the hut, although it seemed dry in the forest beyond, where the drops of rain had been intercepted by the leaves of the trees.

"We must get our wood under cover," said Marco, "or it will get wet and won't burn, and then our fire will go out."

"True," said Forester. "There is room for some of it in this hut. Let us get up and put it in."

So Marco and Forester arose, and, as they were already dressed, they were soon at work, putting the logs into the hut. Marco then proposed that they should go into the forest, where it did not rain, and get some more wood. But Forester said he thought that would be of no service, as they had no provisions, and, of course, could not stay there. "We must go," said he, "at any rate, whether it rains or not; for it is better to get wet than to starve."

"We have got something left in our bag," said Marco.

"Yes," replied Forester, "just enough for breakfast."

"How I wish I had a bushel of potatoes," said Marco. "Then we could stay here a week. Only we should want a little salt too."

Forester opened the bag and took out the provisions which were left. They found about enough for a breakfast for them, but they concluded to eat but half of their supply, as Forester thought it was best that they should put themselves upon short allowance.

"You see, it is possible," said Forester, "that we may be kept here in the woods a day or two; so we must use our provisions economically."

After breakfast, they went into the forest a little way, where they found that they were protected from the rain by the trees. This proved, as Forester said, that it had not been raining very long; and he thought, from appearances, that it would soon clear up.

At a little distance from their encampment, they found another hut, which was in better condition than either of those which they had seen before. It was covered with strips of birch bark, which made a very good roof. Some of these strips, or rather sheets, for they were quite large, had fallen down, and Marco ran and got one of them, exclaiming,

"What a monstrous sheet of birch bark!"

This sheet, which Marco lifted up from the ground where it was lying, was about four feet long and two feet wide. Marco wondered that so large a sheet could be got from any tree.

"What a monstrous tree it must have been!" said he to Forester.

"No," said Forester, "not very large. This sheet is about four feet long, which would make the tree only about sixteen inches in diameter."

"How do you prove that?" asked Marco.

"Why, the distance through a tree is about one third the distance round it," replied Forester. "Now, this bark grew around the tree, and it is about four feet long. Four feet is forty-eight inches, and one-third of forty-eight is sixteen. Now, sixteen inches in diameter would not be a very large tree."

"I mean to try this bark on some of these trees," said Marco, "to see how big a tree it will fit."

So Marco took up the sheet of bark. It was white and clean, especially on the outside, having been blanched by the summer rains. Marco, in order to carry the sheet more easily, put it upon his shoulders, drawing it up around his neck like a shawl.

"Cousin Forester," said he, "see my shawl. It would do for an umbrella, if I only had a handle."

So saying, Marco drew the sheet of bark up higher, holding it in such a manner that it covered his cap, rising into a point above his head. He held it in such a manner as to leave a little crevice open in front, to peep through, in order that he might see where he was going.

"See, Forester," said he,—"see my umbrella."

Forester looked at Marco's contrivance, and he immediately thought that such a sheet would be an important protection to the head and neck, in case they had to walk in the rain. He accordingly went to the hut and selected a sheet for himself, saying,

"This is not a bad plan. The most important point is to protect the head and neck, and this will do it pretty well. We can roll the sheets up and carry them under our arms, unless it rains fast, and then we can wrap them around us."



Having thus found a rude substitute for an umbrella, Forester thought that it would be best for them to set out on their journey. They accordingly returned to their encampment, and made preparations for resuming their march. As it was raining but very little at that time, they rolled up their umbrellas and carried them under their arms. Marco took the hatchet, and Forester the bag of provisions. Marco wanted to set fire to the hut which had sheltered them for the night. He wanted Forester to hear what a loud crackling the green hemlock branches, which they had put upon the roof, would make, when the flames from the wood below should envelop them.

But Forester would not consent to this. He said that some accident might possibly happen, by which they should be obliged to come back and spend another night there, though he hoped such a measure would not be necessary.

"I hope so, too," said Marco.

"We may lose our way again," said Forester.

"But then," said Marco, "we shall not come back to this place."

"Why, I have heard," said Forester, "of people losing their way in the woods, and, after a great deal of wandering, getting back to the place they started from. So that, possibly, we may wander about all day, and get back here at night."

"I hope not, I'm sure," said Marco. "I am tired of this old hovel."

"Why, the lumber-men stay in these places all winter," said Forester.

"Yes," replied Marco, "but then they know that they can get out whenever they please. We don't know that we can ever get out."

"That is true," said Forester, "and it makes a great difference."

"Don't you feel concerned about our finding our way out?" asked Marco.

"No," said Forester. "I make it a rule never to be concerned about anything."

"Oh, Forester!" said Marco,—"I think we ought to be concerned when we get lost in the woods."

"No," replied Forester. "We ought to do the best we can to get out, but not to be concerned. To be concerned is to be anxious and unhappy. This does no good. Being concerned would never help us find our way out of the woods."

Thus talking, the two unfortunate travellers walked on, with their rolls under their arms. It was well that they took them, for, after they had been walking about half an hour, the sky grew dark, and, a short time afterwards, the rain began to come down in torrents. Forester and Marco unrolled their umbrellas, and wrapped them about their shoulders and heads; and, at the same time, they fled for shelter under an enormous pine tree, which grew in such a spot that its branches extended in every direction, and formed a canopy above them, which kept off a great deal of the rain. When the rain abated a little, they walked on.

Their plan was to get back to the place where they had left the main road the day before. But they were somewhat perplexed to find it. In fact, they met with several roads which branched off from the one in which they were walking. These were old tracks, made by the lumber-men, and were partly grown up to bushes. They wandered about among these paths for some time, and at last, to their great joy, they came out into a good beaten road, which Forester immediately thought was the one which they had been travelling in the day before. Notwithstanding Forester's philosophical resolution, never to be concerned, he could not help confessing that he felt somewhat relieved to find the right road again; and, as the sun was just breaking through the clouds at this time, they both thought that their prospects were brightening considerably.



CHAPTER XI.

THE SHINGLE WEAVER'S.

The travellers walked on with fresh strength and courage, now that they thought they were in the right road. The road was, however, monotonous, being, for most of the way, through a dense forest; and it was so very similar to the road by which they had come the day before that they were convinced they were now right.

They went on, without any special adventure, for nearly two hours, when they arrived at what had the appearance of being an old wood road, which branched off at right angles to the one in which they were travelling. The trees were somewhat more open here. This admitted the sun; and there were several raspberry bushes growing at the entrance of the wood road, with ripe raspberries hanging upon them, for the season of raspberries had now arrived.

Marco seized this fruit with great avidity. Forester followed his example, and began gathering the berries. The bushes were, however, not entirely dry, and they had to advance cautiously among them. In fact, they found it better to keep along the wood road, gathering the berries as they advanced. It was not a road, strictly speaking, for there were no marks of wheels upon it, or tracks of any sort, made by travelling. It was only a space for a road, made by cutting away the trees and bushes.

Along this opening, Forester and Marco slowly advanced, eating the raspberries which grew by the side of the way. After going on for a few rods in this manner, Marco suddenly exclaimed,

"Why, here is another camp!"

Forester looked up and saw, just before them, the remains of a sort of hut, somewhat similar to those which they had seen the evening before. There was a large heap of chips and shavings about it.

"What can this be?" asked Marco.

"I presume," said Forester, "that it is an old shingle weaver's establishment."

"What is a shingle weaver?" asked Marco.

"A man who makes shingles," replied Forester, "such as they use for covering houses. They make them of clear straight-grained pine, which will split easily and true."

So saying, Forester advanced towards the hut, and took up one of the pieces of pine, which had been split out for a shingle. There were several of such pieces lying about among the chips and shavings. It was somewhat browned by exposure to the weather, but it had a very smooth and glossy appearance, shining with a sort of silken lustre.

"This is a beautiful piece of pine," said Forester.

"Let us carry some of it home," rejoined Marco.

"What good would it do us?" asked Forester.

"Why, we might make something of it," said Marco. "Perhaps I could make a little box."

"And that would serve as a souvenir of this expedition," added Forester.

"A souvenir?" said Marco,—"what is that?"

"Why, something to remember it by," replied Forester. "Hereafter, whenever you should see the box, you would be reminded of our wanderings and perils in this wilderness."

"Well," said Marco, "let us take it."

The farther conversation of our adventurers was interrupted by a sound, like that of wagon wheels, coming along the main road, which they had just left.

"There comes some traveller," exclaimed Forester. "Let us go and enquire about our way."

"Hark!" said Marco.

At this instant, the sound of the wheels suddenly stopped, and Marco and Forester heard the voice of a man calling out earnestly to his horse, "Whoa! whoa!" as if something had happened. Marco and Forester hastened to the spot, where they found that the horse had fallen down, and the man was trying in vain to get him up. The harness was drawn so tight about the horse's limbs, by the constrained position in which he was lying, that he could not get up, and the man could not extricate him. The man had gone behind, and had drawn the wagon back, so as to loosen the pressure of the harness upon the horse, but, until Forester and Marco came, there was no one to unbuckle the straps when they were thus loosened; and, if the man let go of the wagon, to go and unbuckle the harness, it was drawn back again at once by the tension of the straps, and made as tight as before.

He was, therefore, very glad to see Forester and Marco coming. He asked them to come and help him.

Forester and Marco were immediately going to attempt to unbuckle the harness, but the man told them that there was danger of their getting kicked by the horse, in case he should suddenly begin to struggle.

"Come here," said the man, "and hold the wagon back and I will loosen the harness."

By means of this plan of operations, the horse was soon liberated from his confinement, and he got up. The man seemed very thankful to Forester and Marco, and he asked them where they were going.

"We are going to No. 3," said Forester. "Is this the right way?"

The townships in a new country are numbered at first, not named. The place to which Marco and Forester were going had yet very few inhabitants, and it had no name but No. 3.

"Yes," replied the man, "this is the right road. I wish I was going that way, I would take you along in my wagon."

This answer puzzled Marco a little, on two accounts. First, the man was going the same way with them, but then Marco thought that, perhaps, he was going to turn off, pretty soon, into some other road. Then, secondly, he did not see how the man could possibly carry him and Forester, in any event, as the wagon seemed completely filled with bags, and kegs, and firkins, leaving scarcely room for the man himself to sit.

Forester told the man that they could walk very well; but he said that they were hungry, and if the man had anything to eat, in his wagon, they should be glad to buy something of him.

"Yes," replied the man, "I've a loaf of bread that I can spare, and a jug of milk."

"That will be just the thing," said Marco.

At first, the man was not willing to receive anything for the bread and milk, but as Forester insisted upon it, he consented to take a little pay. He then told Forester that he had some honey in his wagon, and a few apples, and Forester bought a supply of these. At first, they thought they should not have anything to put the honey in, but Marco ran to the shingle weaver's hut, and got one of the thin pieces which had been split out for shingles, and it made a very good plate. Forester bought a pound of the honey, and half a dozen apples.

They then bade the man good-by, and he resumed his journey. Forester and Marco went back to the hut, where they had a most excellent dinner. They built a fire, and roasted the apples and toasted the bread. They cut it into slices with Marco's knife. They made wooden spoons for the honey out of pieces of pine, which answered very well indeed. Marco said it was the very best dinner he ever ate in his life.

After dinner, they returned to the main road, and resumed their walk. Forester said he wished he had asked the man how far it was to No. 3, but he thought it could not be very far, as they had been travelling nearly three hours, and it was only about ten miles in the morning.

As he was saying this, they were just ascending a hill, and when they reached the top of it, they had a prospect of the road for a considerable distance before them. Marco thought he saw something coming, and he asked Forester what it was.

"I think it is only a stump, or something like that," said Forester.

"No, it moves," said Marco.

"It is another wagon," said Forester, "I really believe. Now we can find out how far it is to No. 3."

It was very soon quite evident that it was a wagon, and that it was coming on apace. As it drew nearer, it appeared that there was a boy in it.

"He is just about as big as Isaiah," said Marco.

"Yes," said Forester. "And the horse looks very much like the horse Isaiah had."

"I verily believe it is Isaiah," said Marco.

This supposition was confirmed as the wagon drew near. The boy was Isaiah, but he stared at Marco and Forester with a look of perplexity and wonder, as if he was very much surprised to see them.

"Isaiah!" said Marco, accosting him, as soon as Isaiah drew up the reins and stopped the horse opposite to them.

"What are you coming back for?" asked Isaiah.

"Coming back!" repeated Forester, not knowing exactly what Isaiah meant.

"Yes," said Isaiah. "I thought you were going to stay at No. 3, and I was going to carry your trunk there."

It immediately flashed upon Forester's mind that they had got turned about in their wanderings, and, instead of going on towards No. 3, as they supposed, they were in reality, though in the right road, going the wrong way in it.

Forester had a hearty laugh at this discovery, in which Marco joined, as soon as he fairly understood the case. At first, he was very much perplexed. He could not believe that they could have got their ideas of direction so completely reversed.

"Besides," said he, "that man told us that we were in the right way."

"Yes," said Forester, "but he did not tell us that we were going right in it."

"I suppose he did not know which way we were going," said Marco.

The question then arose, what was to be done. Forester proposed that they should get into the wagon and let Isaiah drive them to No. 3, but Marco said that he was commander, and he was not going to try to get to No. 3 any more. He had been travelling back and forth through those woods long enough, and he declared that he would not vote to go through them again, if he had to go round the world to get to the other side of them.

Forester laughed and submitted to the decision; so they all returned to Isaiah's father's.

The next morning they formed a different plan for pursuing their journey. They wanted to get to the Quebec road now, as soon as possible, and they found, by enquiry, that, by taking a boat upon a large pond or lake, a few miles distant, they could go about twenty miles by water, through a chain of ponds, which led in the direction in which they wished to go.

So Forester hired a man to go with them and bring back the boat. They went, in a wagon, to a place very near the landing, at the pond. The landing was in a small cove, surrounded by forests. The cove opened out into the pond by two points of land, rocky and precipitous, and crowned with evergreen trees. The water was smooth, and the whole scene highly picturesque. When Marco came in sight of it, he was much pleased with the prospect of a voyage on such a sheet of water.

There was considerable water in the boat when the party arrived on the beach, and Forester undertook to bail it out. The man who was going with them went and cut a bush, with a thick top, to use as a sail, in case there should be a fair wind. While he was bringing the bush, and Forester was bailing out the boat, Marco stood upon the beach, looking at the paddles.

"Does she leak, cousin Forester?" asked Marco.



"No," said Forester, "I presume not. This water all comes from the rain."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Marco, "for I don't want to go to sea in a leaky ship."

There was a great basket of provisions on the beach, by the side of Marco, while these preparations were making, for they were resolved not to expose themselves, a second time, to the danger of famine. When all was ready, the bush, the basket and the paddles were put on board, and our adventurers, after gliding smoothly through the water to the outlet of the cove, doubled one of the rocky points of land, and pushed boldly out upon the waters of the pond.



CHAPTER XII.

A VOYAGE ON THE POND.

As the boat moved on, propelled by the paddles, which Forester and the man who accompanied them were plying, Marco sat upon a thwart, and gazed upon the picturesque and romantic scene around him. The shores of the lake, or pond, formed many beautiful points and promontories, with deep bays between them. There were a great many islands too, scattered over its surface. Marco wanted to land upon some of these, but Forester thought that they had better make the best of their way towards their destined port.

Marco contented himself, therefore, with gazing on the changing scenery, as they passed, in succession, one island and promontory after another. The whole country was covered with forests, except that here and there was an opening, with the house and barn of a settler in the middle of it. Smokes were rising, too, in various directions, where new clearings were in progress. There was one in particular, on the side of a distant hill, which rose in such dense white volumes as especially to attract Marco's attention.

When Marco had admired these objects long enough, he leaned a little over the side of the boat, and began to look down into the water. The water was not deep, and the bottom was smooth and sandy. They glided rapidly along over these sands. Marco's leaning caused the boat to incline a little to one side; but Forester, instead of asking him not to lean over so, just moved himself a little in the contrary direction, and thus restored the equilibrium.

"There, Forester," said Marco, suddenly raising himself, "I forgot one thing."

"What is that?" said Forester.

"I forgot my piece of wood to make a box of."

"I am very sorry," said Forester. "But then you can get another piece, perhaps, before we get to the end of our journey."

"But I wanted a piece from that very hut, so as to make the box a souvenir of our having got lost in the woods," said Marco.

"Yes," rejoined Forester, "that would have been very pleasant,—but, perhaps, we shall meet with some other odd adventure, which will be as good as being lost in the woods."

"I don't think being lost in the woods is anything very good," said Marco.

"It is not a very good thing at the time, but the recollection of such adventures and dangers is always pleasant afterwards. You see you specially want a souvenir of it.

"But, Marco," continued Forester, "I have thought of something which will be, perhaps, better than a box. At any rate, it will be more convenient to make."

"What is it?" said Marco.

"A little press for pressing flowers," replied Forester.

"How could I make it?" asked Marco.

"Have two pieces of pine wood, planed out thin," said Forester. "They might be varnished, and that would make them look very neat and pretty."

"How large must they be?" asked Marco.

"Oh, about as large," replied Forester, "as the covers of a small book. Just large enough to make it convenient to carry in the pocket. Then you must have some pieces of soft paper, of the same size and shape, to put between them. You must also have a piece of cord or braid, or something of that kind, to tie around them, to keep them together. Then, when you are travelling, if you find any pretty flower, you can put it into this press, and put the press in your pocket. Thus, the press will not only be a souvenir itself, but it will procure for you a great many other souvenirs."

"That's an excellent plan," said Marco. "I like it very much. That will be better than a box."

"It will be easier to make, at any rate," replied Forester. "Any joiner can plane out and square the boards for you."

"Yes," said Marco. "I mean to get a piece of pine to make them of, the first time I find any."

Marco had an opportunity to get a piece of pine suitable for this purpose, and, at the same time, a souvenir itself of an adventure, sooner than he anticipated; for, after having paddled many miles, towards noon a breeze sprung up, which, though really not against them, retarded them somewhat, as it tended to drive them out of their course. Their intention had been to have stopped upon the water, about noon, to eat their dinner; but, as this breeze would prevent the boat from remaining at rest, they concluded to land upon an island, which was near where they were at the time, and take their dinner there. Marco was particularly pleased with this plan, as it would enable him to build a fire, and he always wanted to build a fire on such occasions, whether there was anything to be cooked by it or not.

The island was rocky, and it was covered with trees. On the sheltered side of it there was a beach, where the party landed. Although this beach was somewhat protected from the wind, still the waves which rolled in kept the water in a state of agitation. They, however, landed here, running the head of the boat upon the sand.

There was a large tree lying here, with its top in the water, and butt-end upon the beach. It was a tree which some settler had cut down at some place near the shore of the pond, and when the water was high it had been washed off, and, after drifting about the pond for some time, it had got lodged upon this beach, where it remained in the position in which our adventurers found it. It had been lying there for more than a year, and the branches which were out of the water were dead and dry. The foliage had long since disappeared.

The boatman brought the boat up alongside of this tree, so that Forester and Marco stepped out upon the trunk, and walked to the land. The boatman then tied the boat to one of the dead branches of the tree, and, taking the basket of provisions and the hatchet, they all walked along, in search of a place for their dinner.

They found a sheltered and pleasant place, at a little distance, under the trees. Marco soon struck a light, and began to build a fire. He found it somewhat difficult, however, to procure dry wood enough for the fire, until, at last, he thought of the branches of the tree to which the boat was fastened. He accordingly went to the place and began to cut them off.

The boat was somewhat in the way while he was doing this, and he thought he would move it. He could fasten it just as well, he thought, by a stake driven into the sand. He therefore cut off one of the branches, and, after squaring one end and sharpening the other, he drove it down as well as he could into the sand. He then fastened the boat to this stake, thus removing it from the tree, and clearing the way so that he could conveniently cut off the branches.

This was not, however, a very wise operation, for it is very difficult to drive a stake securely into sand. Sand, even when wet, has so little tenacity that it yields to the slightest force, and the stake soon began to work loose, by the motion of the boat, agitated by the waves; and, in fact, before Marco had finished carrying away the branches, the stake was entirely loosened from its bed, and was just ready to topple over.

As the boat continued to pull upon it, this way and that, as it was agitated by the fluctuation of the water, it soon drew it down, and the boat, being now entirely at liberty, began to move slowly off from the shore. It soon drifted out where it was more fully exposed to the action of the wind, when it began to move much faster. And thus, while our party of voyagers were eating their dinner, seated on a flat rock, by the side of a good fire, in fancied security, their boat was quietly drifting away, thus apparently cutting them off from all communication with the main land.

Marco made the discovery that the boat was gone, just after finishing his dinner, and he immediately gave the alarm. Forester and the boatman came at once to the spot. They could just see the boat, half a mile distant, under a ledge of rocks, which formed the shore in that place.

This was the third time, on this journey, that Marco had found himself isolated in circumstances of difficulty and danger, and cut off, apparently, from all convenient means of retreat; and, at first, he thought that this was the worst and the most dangerous of the three. In fact, he did not see in what possible way they could escape.

"What shall we do?" asked Forester.

"We must make a raft, somehow or other," said the boatman. "If I had a log, I could go after the boat on that."

"Won't this tree answer for a log?" asked Marco.

The boatman looked at the tree. He said that, if he had an axe, he thought he could cut off the top, and roll the trunk into the water; but it would take him a long time, he said, to hack it off with the hatchet.

There seemed to be, however, no alternative; so he set himself at work, and in due time he cut off the stem of the tree, just where it entered the water. They all three then took levers, which the boatman made with his hatchet, and, by making great exertion, they got the log out of the sand, and rolled it round into the water, where it floated. The man then cut a long pole, and, mounting upon the log, he pushed himself out over the surface of the water.

Forester and Marco watched his progress with great interest. Marco thought that he would certainly roll off the log, but he seemed to stand and to walk upon it, perfectly at his ease. He would advance to the forward end of the log, and then, planting the foot of his pole in the sand on the bottom, he would push, walking along as the log advanced, until he came to the stern end of the log, when he would draw out his pole, and walk back again. In this way he propelled the log until the water became too deep for his pole to reach the bottom, and then he ceased these efforts, and, standing upright, he left himself to be driven along slowly by the wind.



Forester and Marco saw plainly that he would be gone for some time, and they amused themselves, during his absence, in wandering about the shores of the island. In one place, Marco found, upon a rock a little above the water, a slab of pine wood, which was bleached by the sun and rain. It had drifted down, the summer before, from some stream emptying into the pond. In the winter it had been frozen into the ice, and, when the ice broke up on the following spring, the cake to which the slab was attached, had been crowded up upon the shore, where the slab had been left when the ice melted.

Marco immediately thought that this slab would furnish him with a good piece of wood to make a flower press of, and he accordingly dragged it up where he could work upon it with his hatchet. He soon cut off a piece, of the proper length, and hewed it down so as to make it of a convenient shape to carry.

When Forester came to examine it, he said he thought it was a very good piece, and when it was planed smooth and varnished, he thought, from its appearance, that it would be of a very pretty color.

"You can get it made at the first shop we come to," said Forester, "and then you can collect and preserve a great many flowers in it, when we get to Canada. When you get home; you can put them in a book, and call them the Canadian Flora."

"That's just what I'll do," said Marco, "and then, when I get home, I'll give some of them to my cousins. They will like them, because they came from Canada. But I can't put a great many into such a press."

"No," said Forester. "You only collect them in the press, which you always carry with you in your pocket. You put them all in a book, or in a larger press, as soon as you get home, and then you have the small press ready for use again."

While they were talking thus, they watched the boatman, who had, by this time, reached the land and recovered the boat. He came back quite rapidly, propelling the boat with the paddle. Marco and Forester embarked on board of her, and they finished their voyage without any further adventure. The next day, they reached the Quebec road, and, leaving the region of the Kennebec, they went on their way towards Canada.



TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

A Table of Contents has been added for the reader's convenience.

Inconsistent hyphenation (mill-man/millman) and spelling (bivouac/bivouack) have been regularized.