238 BIRCH BROWSINGS. 



After dark, as I was frying the fish, a 

 panful of the largest trout was accidentally 

 capsized in the fire. With rueful counte- 

 nances we contemplated the irreparable loss 

 our commissariat had sustained by this mis- 

 hap; but remembering there was virtue in 

 ashes, we poked the half-consumed fish from 

 the bed of coals and ate them, and they were 

 good. 



We lodged that night on a brush-heap, 

 and slept soundly. The green, yielding 

 beech-twigs, covered with a buffalo robe, 

 were equal to a hair mattress. The heat 

 and smoke from a large fire kindled in the 

 afternoon had banished every " no-see-em " 

 from the locality, and in the morning the 

 sun was above the mountain before we awoke. 



I immediately started again for the inlet, 

 and went far up the stream toward its source. 

 A fair string of trout for breakfast was my 

 reward. The cattle with the bell were at the 

 head of the valley, where they had passed 

 the night. Most of them were two-year-old 

 steers. They came up to me and begged for 

 salt, and scared the fish by their importuni- 

 ties. 



We finished our bread that morning, and 

 ate every fish we could catch, and about ten 



