128 ADVENTUKES IN THE WILDERNESS. 



Soon after, John slioulclered the boat, and we 

 started. Some forty minutes' tramp, and we 

 reached the shore and made our camp. From it 

 the scene was delightful. The lake was nearly- 

 circular, some half a mile across, its' w^aters deep 

 and clear. Into it, so far as we could see, no water 

 came ; out of it no water went. It was, as John 

 had called it, one huge spring-hole ; the mountains 

 on aU sides sloped gradually up, an unbroken sweep 

 of pine and balsam, save where, at intervals, a 

 silver-beech or round-leaved maple relieved the 

 sombre color with lighter hues. Thus secluded, 

 seldom visited by man, the little lake reposed, 

 mirroring the surrounding hills in its cool depths, 

 and guarded safely by them. We stepped into 

 our boat and glided out toward the centre of the 

 pool. Not a motion in the air; not a ripple on 

 the water. At last the beeches along the w^estern 

 slope began to rustle. The mournful pines felt the 

 pressure of airy fingers amid their strings, and 

 woke to solemn sound. The zephyr at length 

 reached the lake, and the cool water thriUed into 

 ripples at its touch ; while the pool, which an in- 

 stant before shone under the sun like seamless 

 glass, shook with a thousand tiny undulations. 



"Now," said John, "if the fish haven't all 

 drowned since I w^as here, you '11 see 'em soon. 

 When one rises I '11 put you within casting dis- 

 tance of the wake, and if he likes it he '11 take the 



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