BIRCH BROWSINGS. 223 



So filling my canteen from the spring, I 

 set out again, taking the spring run for my 

 guide. Before I had followed it two hundred 

 yards, it sank into the ground at my feet. I 

 had half a mind to be superstitious, and to 

 believe that we were under a spell, since our 

 guides played us such tricks. However, I 

 determined to put the matter to a further 

 test, and struck out boldly to the left. This 

 seemed to be the keyword, to the left, to 

 the left. The fog had now lifted, so that I 

 could form a better idea of the lay of the 

 land. Twice I looked down the steep sides 

 of the mountain, sorely tempted to risk a 

 plunge. Still I hesitated, and kept along 

 on the brink. As I stood on a rock deliber- 

 ating, I heard a crackling of the brush, like 

 the tread of some large game, on a plateau 

 below me. Suspecting the truth of the 

 case, I moved stealthily down, and found 

 a herd of young cattle leisurely browsing. 

 We had several tunes crossed their trail, and 

 had seen that morning a level, grassy place 

 on the top of the mountain, where they had 

 passed the night. Instead of being fright- 

 ened, as I had expected, they seemed greatly 

 delighted, and gathered around me as if to 

 inquire the tidings from the outer world, 



