IN A LOG HUT. 61 



to describe lies within the limits of the State of 

 Maine, about sixty miles north-east of Moose Head 

 Lake. 



The days that had heralded the advent of March 

 had been extremely warm, the nights clear, with sharp 

 frost; just such weather as would be pronounced 

 first-class for the collecting of sap to make maple 

 sugar. Two days' journey had been required to bring 

 us to the desired locality, for we had both agreed that 

 no search for moose should be made till a favourite 

 neighbourhood was reached, alike beautiful in summer 

 or winter. Moreover, here we should find a log hut, 

 erected two seasons previously, and which we had 

 every reason to believe would be in a thorough state of 

 repair. In due course of time we arrived at our ren- 

 dezvous; the snow was cleared out of the structure, 

 and, considering all things, the two Penobscot Indians 

 who accompanied us succeeded in making our tempo- 

 rary residence look more than inviting. The first 

 night passed in the usual manner ; we each pledged 

 the other's health more than once, and again and again 

 requited our pipes with baccy. Still we slept soundly, 

 and day had well broken before either turned out. A 

 hurried cup of coffee and a few morsels of cold meat 

 and biscuit sufficed for breakfast, so that ere the sun 

 had risen over the neighbouring hill we were en route 

 for the scene of action. The country that we traversed 

 was covered, but not densely crowded, with hard wood 

 so open, in fact, that a fair shot would severely have 

 punished woodcock which had taken shelter in a similar 

 locality. After tramping three miles, the Indians 

 leading, and I causing much amusement by a suc- 

 cession of catastrophes from one snow-shoe overlapping 



