188 A BED OF BOUGHS. 



our air-woven tent and prepared our dinner, and we 

 gathered boughs for our bed in the gloaming. Break- 

 fast had to be caught in the morning and was not 

 served early, so that it was nine o'clock before we 

 were in motion. A little bird, the red-eyed vireo, war- 

 bled most cheerily in the trees above our camp, and, 

 as Aaron said, " gave us a good send-off." We kept 

 down the stream, following the inevitable bark road. 



My companion had refused to look at another " di- 

 viding ridge" that had neither path nor way, and 

 henceforth I must keep to the open road or travel 

 alone. Two hours' tramp brought us to an old clear- 

 ing with some rude, tumble-down log-buildings that 

 many years before had been occupied by the bark and 

 lumber men. The prospect for trout was so good in 

 the stream hereabouts, and the scene so peaceful and 

 inviting, shone upon by the dreamy August sun, that 

 we concluded to tarry here until the next day. It 

 was a page of pioneer history opened to quite unex- 

 pectedly. A dim footpath led us a few yards to a 

 superb spring, in which a trout from the near creek 

 had taken up his abode. We took possession of what 

 had been a shingle shop, attracted by its huge fire- 

 place. We floored it with balsam boughs, hung its 

 walls with our "traps," and sent the smoke curling 

 again from its disused chimney. 



The most musical and startling sound we heard in 

 the woods greeted our ears that evening about sun- 

 down as we sat on a log in front of our quarters, 

 the sound of slow, measured oounding in the valley 



