BIRCH BROWSINGS. 215 



nest in a little sapling about ten feet from 

 the ground. 



After continuing our descent till our only 

 guide, the spring run, became quite a trout 

 brook, and its tiny murmur a loud brawl, we 

 began to peer anxiously through the trees 

 for a glimpse of the lake, or for some con- 

 formation of the land that would indicate 

 its proximity. An object which we vaguely 

 discerned in looking under the near trees 

 and over the more distant ones proved, on 

 further inspection, to be a patch of ploughed 

 ground. Presently we made out a burnt 

 fallow near it. This was a wet blanket to 

 our enthusiasm. No lake, no sport, no trout 

 for supper that night. The rather indolent 

 young man had either played us a trick, or, 

 as seemed more likely, had missed the way. 

 We were particularly anxious to be at the 

 lake between sundown and dark, as at that 

 time the trout jump most freely. 



Pushing on, we soon emerged into a stumpy 

 field, at the head of a steep valley, which 

 swept around toward the west. About two 

 hundred rods below us was a rude log-house, 

 with smoke issuing from the chimney. A 

 boy came out, and moved toward the spring 

 with a pail in his hand. We shouted to him, 



