SPECKLED TROUT. 121 



longer possible. The water coursed down the under- 

 side of the boards, and dripped in our necks and 

 formed puddles on our hat-brims. We shifted our 

 guns and traps and viands, till there was no longer 

 any choice of position, when the loaves and the fishes, 

 the salt and the sugar, the pork and the butter, 

 shared the same watery fate. The fire was gasp- 

 ing its last. Little rivulets coursed about it, and 

 bore away the quenched but steaming coals on their 

 bosoms. The spring run in the rear of our camp 

 swelled so rapidly that part of the trout that had 

 been hastily left lying on its banks again found them- 

 selves quite at home. For over two hours the floods 

 came down. About four o'clock, Orville, who had 

 not yet come from the day's sport, appeared. To 

 say Orville was wet is not much ; he was better than 

 that, he had been washed and rinsed in at least 

 half a dozen waters, and the trout that he bore dan- 

 gling at the end of a string hardly knew that they 

 had been out of their proper element. 



But he brought welcome news. He had been 

 two or three miles down the creek, and had seen a 

 log-building, whether house or stable he did not 

 know, but it had the appearance of having a good 

 roof, which was inducement enough for us instantly to 

 leave our present quarters. Our course lay along an 

 old wood road, and much of the time we were to 

 our knees in water. The woods were literally flooded 

 everywhere. Every little rill and springlet ran like 

 a mill-tail, while the main stream rushed and roared, 



