CHAPTER IV 



IN SOUTHERN HOOSIER HILLS 



The Lost River of Indiana is well named. It flows along 

 its noisy course for many miles, and then suddenly disappears 

 into the bowels of the earth. At a point more than a mile 

 from where the stream gets lost it reappears, and thence 

 to its mouth its way is "clear and above ground." The river 

 flows for some distance through a natural bowl. A rain of a 

 few hours' duration causes an overflow of its banks, and the 

 bowl becomes a lake. A heavy thunder-storm occurred dur- 

 ing the night following my first day's trip afield in the Lost 

 River country. The morning showed the haunts of the red- 

 birds and juncoes well under water. There was not a cloud 

 in the sky, but the little valley through which we had tramped 

 the day before was flooded from hill to hill. The highlands 

 offered the only conditions that seemed likely to prove satis- 

 factory to birds and bird-lovers. 



I found a companion for the second day's outing in a 

 young Indianapolis physician who had sought southern Indi- 

 ana "for the healing of the waters." Apparently he had 

 sought it to good effect. Two weeks before he had been 

 carried into the hotel, too weak to walk, and to-day he was 

 willing to undertake a tramp of ten miles over the hills. 

 Some one told us of a sugar-bush that was to be found in the 

 back country. This information was an added inducement 

 to the doctor who confessed a weakness for maple sap. 



Before we struck out for the higher hills we came across a 



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