PHANTOM FALLS. 143 



own. Day after day we had heen pushing our 

 light, narrow shell up unexplored creeks, building 

 our fire each night on the shore of some lake or 

 pond where it is doubtful if fire was ever kindled 

 before. As we proceeded down the lake, the roar 

 of the rapids came more and more distinctly to our 

 ears, and as the shores converged the boat began 

 to feel the action of the water beneath it, where 

 were the beoinnins^s of the current. As John felt 

 the movement, he lifted his oars, and, laying them 

 carefully along the bottom of the boat, pointed 

 toward a huge pine that stood to the west of 

 a projection of land along tlie other side of which 

 rushed the rapids. Understanding the motion, I 

 turned the bow of the boat toward the tree, and 

 then, with easy stroke, urged it along. 



"How well I remember the night I camped 

 here," said John, speaking half to liimself. " How 

 naturally that old pine looks, and the three hem- 

 loclts on the point, and the rock against which I 

 built my fire. I wonder if the old story is true, 

 and if I did see her, or whether it was only a 

 dream ! " 



By this time the boat had run into a little 

 notch or bay, and a few sharp strokes sent it to 

 the shore with a force that urged it half its length 

 up over the yielding sand. We stepped to the 

 beach. 



Supper having been prepared and eaten, we 



