DAYS IN THE WOODS 253 



Out on the lake it was blowing a gale, and right 

 against us. We had to kneel in the bottom of the 

 canoes, instead of sitting on the thwarts, and 

 vigorously ply our paddles. The heavily laden 

 craft plunged into the waves, shipping water at 

 every jump, and sending the spray flying into our 

 faces. Sometimes we would make good way, and 

 then, in a squall, we would not gain an inch, and 

 be almost driven on shore ; but after much labour 

 we gained the shelter of a projecting point, and 

 late in the evening reached our destination, and 

 drew up our canoes for the last time. 



While others make camp, old John wanders off 

 with his head stooped, and eyes fixed on the 

 ground, according to his custom. The old man 

 always looks as if he had lost something and was 

 searching for it. Indeed, this is very often the 

 case. I remember, after watching him one day 

 prying and wandering about an old lumber camp, 

 asking him what on earth he was doing. " Oh, 

 nothing, sir," he answered ; "I hid a clay pipe 

 here, somewhere — let me see, about thirty-five 

 years ago, and I was looking for it." After dark 

 he comes quietly in, sits down by the fire and 

 lights his pipe, and, after smoking a little while, 

 observes, " Moose been here, sir, not long ago. 



