104 ADVENT UEES IN THE WILDERNESS. 



" Well, we '11 go to Salmon Lake ; that 's the 

 nigher/' I said. " Shall we get rain ? " 



As John was about to reply, a dull, heavy sound 

 came up from the depths of the forest, — a solemn, 

 ominous sound, breaking the dead silence. An- 

 other and another followed ; a muffled roar, filling 

 the air, so that one might not tell from what quar- 

 ter it came. 



" Yes," said John, as the noise died away, — " yes, 

 it will rain. The old trees never lie. Those sounds 

 you have just heard are made by falling trees. 

 You always hear them before a storm." 



" But, John," I exclaimed, " what makes them 

 fall this morning ? There is not a breath of air 

 stirring." 



" I don't know," responded John, " what makes 

 them fall. I have often thought how queer it is. 

 Many a time have I sat in my canoe on a morn- 

 ing like this, when there was not wind enough 

 to float a feather, and seen the old fellows come 

 crashing down. I tell you what," continued he, 

 " it makes a man feel solemn, to see tree after tree, 

 great, giant chaps, a hundred and fifty feet high, 

 begin all of a sudden to quiver and reel, and then 

 fall headlong to the ground ; when, for aught you 

 can see, there is no earthly cause for it. Let us sit 

 still a moment and hear them." 



I did as requested. Now, far away in the forest, 

 the same didl, heavy roar would arise, linger a mo- 



