84 A TRAMP IN THE CATSKILLS 



a small stream and quite an extensive alder swamp, 

 evidently the ancient bed of a lake. I explained to my 

 half-vexed and half-incredulous companions that we 

 were probably above the lake, and that this stream 

 must lead to it. " Follow it," they said ; " we will wait 

 here till we hear from you." 



So I went on, more than ever disposed to believe 

 that we were under a spell, and that the lake had 

 slipped from my grasp after all. Seeing no favorable 

 sign as I went forward, I laid down my accoutrements, 

 and climbed a decayed beech that leaned out over the 

 swamp and promised a good view from the top. As I 

 stretched myself up to look around from the highest 

 attainable branch, there was suddenly a loud crack 

 at the root. With a celerity that would at least have 

 done credit to a bear, I regained the ground, having 

 caught but a momentary glimpse of the country, but 

 enough to convince me no lake was near. Leaving all 

 incumbrances here but my gun, I still pressed on, 

 loath to be thus baffled. After floundering through 

 another alder swamp for nearly half a mile, I flattered 

 myself that I was close on to the lake. I caught sight 

 of a low spur of the mountain sweeping around like a 

 half-extended arm, and I fondly imagined that within 

 its clasp was the object of my search. But I found only 

 more alder swamp. After this region was cleared, the 

 creek began to descend the mountain very rapidly. Its 

 banks became high and narrow, and it went whirling 

 away with a sound that seemed to my ears like a burst 

 of ironical laughter. I turned back with a feeling of 

 mingled disgust, shame, and vexation. In fact I was 

 almost sick, and when I reached my companions, after 

 an absence of nearly two hours, hungry, fatigued, and 



