WE ARRIVE AT OTJR CAMP. 283 



about ten feet square, logs were leaned up, the ends of which 

 rested upon the ground, the interstices between them care- 

 fully stopped with moss, and the whole covered with bark ; the 

 ends consisted of stakes, driven into the ground and chinked 

 with moss. Into this sleeping apartment a door was cut from 

 the parlor, large enough for a man to pass by getting down 

 on all-fours ; while within was a plentiful supply of boughs 

 from the spruce and fir tree. In this hut, now so dark", and 

 in which the air was so dead and fetid, a solitary trapper 

 had wintered, pursuing his occupation of martin and sable 

 hunting the which, if tolerably successful, would yield him 

 some two or three hundred dollars the season. He carried 

 into the woods a bag of flour or meal, a few pounds of pork, 

 pepper, salt, and tea ; and this, with the game he killed, 

 made up his supply of food. With no companion but his 

 dog, he had probably spent two or three months, and very 

 possibly more, in this lonely cabin. 



We arrived at our camp towards evening, and dined 

 sumptuously on fresh venison and trout. Our pioneer had 

 provided a luxurious bed of boughs within, and had fashioned 

 rude seats in front of our tents. He had rolled the butt of a 

 huge tree, which he had felled, to the proper place, against 

 which to kindle our camp-fire, and we had a pleasant place 

 to sit, with our pipes, in the evening, looking out over the 

 water, listening to the pile-drivers, half a dozen of which 

 were driving their stakes along the reedy shore, with com- 

 mendable diligence. The sunlight lay so beautifully on the 

 hillsides, and contrasted so admirably with the deep shadows 



