A TRAMP IN THE CATSKILLS 93 



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 also was dimly descried. This was encour- 

 aging; 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 bottom 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 out. On the Beaver 

 Kill, my companions thought; but, from the position 

 of the sun, I said, on the Mill Brook, about six miles 

 below our team; for I remembered having seen, in 

 coming up this stream, a deep, wild valley that led 

 up into the mountains, like this one. Soon the banks 

 of the stream became lower, and we moved into the 

 woods. Here we entered upon an obscure wood-road, 

 which presently conducted us into the midst of a vast 

 hemlock forest. The land had a gentle slope, and we 

 wondered why the lumbermen and barkmen who prowl 

 through these woods. had left this fine tract untouched. 

 Beyond this the forest was mostly birch and maple. 

 We were now close to the settlement, and began 

 to hear human sounds. One rod more, and we were 

 out of the woods. It took us a moment to comprehend 

 the scene. Things looked very strange at first; but 

 quickly they began to change and to put on familiar 



