A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



tain. The rest followed, but would fain 

 have paused and ciphered away at their own 

 uncertainties, to see if a certainty could not 

 be arrived at as to where we would come 

 out. But our bold leader was solving the 

 problem in the right way. Down and down 

 and still down we went, as if we were to 

 bring up in the bowels of the earth. It 

 was by far the steepest descent we had 

 made, and we felt a grim satisfaction in 

 knowing that we could not retrace our steps 

 this time, be the issue what it might. As 

 we paused on the brink of a ledge of rocks, 

 we chanced to see through the trees distant 

 cleared land. A house or barn was dimly 

 descried. This was encouraging; but we 

 could not make out whether it was on 

 Beaver Kill or Mill Brook or Dry Brook, 

 and did not long stop to consider where 

 it was. We at last brought up at the bot- 

 tom of a deep gorge, through which flowed 

 a rapid creek that literally swarmed with 

 trout. But we were in no mood to catch 

 them, and pushed on along the channel of 

 the stream, sometimes leaping from rock to 

 rock, and sometimes splashing heedlessly 

 through the water, and speculating the 

 while as to where we should probably come 



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