STILL-WATER. — A FLOODED CAMP. 95 



sheets, in torrents, in floods, — descended without method, 

 — deluged US; while we for a time sought protection under 

 the dripping branches of our half-completed shelter. The 

 trees trickled and then poured water and were full of show- 

 ers ; the moss under our feet was like a saturated sponge, 

 oozy wet; there was not a dry stick or limb for a tire, — not 

 even the lee-side of a big tree for shelter, — " water, water, 

 everywiiere, " and not the slightest susiiicion that there 

 would ever again be a dry place in tiiat region. We stood 

 about in our slouched hats and rul)ber coats, as helpless, 

 bedraggled and dispirited as ever did a conununity ol" barn- 

 yard fowls in an autunmal rain. 



The night was near at hand. The pre-sing questions 

 were: when Avill this flood cease? where shall we sleep and 

 what shall be our bed? how shall we kindle a fire in this 

 drowned and water-soaked forest ? 



The Editor is a man of keen pei-ceptious and quick deci- 

 sion. After a word witli me, he said: 



" Bo3's, how far is if to Fullei'sV" 



"Ten miles — rapids, carries and all. 



" Going to rain all night V " 



" Guess so. " 



"Can you take us through and home in the dark y" 



"That we can;" — and it was Chris. Crandall who s[)oke, 

 the most noted guide of the region, — t;dl, bony, shaggy, 

 o iie-lff/^/r (I and ns'inix a crutch and cane, rude and rough, 

 but with a C(mimanding intellect that made him the favor- 

 ite hunter and guide of all that i)art of the wilderness, and- 

 his word law with all his associates. 



