A BED OF BOUGHS 167 



because the water was less cold. Neither had the 

 creek here any such eventful and startling career. 

 It led, indeed, quite a humdrum sort of life under 

 the roots and fallen treetops and among the loose 

 stones. At rare intervals it beamed upon us from 

 some still reach or dark cover, and won from us our 

 best attention in return. 



The day was quite spent before we had pitched 

 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, 

 warbled 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 

 "dividing 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 

 clearing 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 unexpectedly. 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. 



