80 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 



of ravens, which usually frequent only the loneliest 

 and most inaccessible parts of the mountains. 



The trail led through deep forests and up and across 

 mountains, and was so covered with ice and snow as 

 to be difficult going. At one point the Collector 

 showed me a place where he had been walking 

 years ago, when he suddenly became conscious that 

 he was being followed by something or somebody. 

 At a point where the trail doubled on itself, he ran 

 back swiftly and silently, just in time to see a bay- 

 lynx — which had been trailing him, as those big 

 cats sometimes will — dive into a nearby thicket. 

 Anon he cheered the way with snake stories, for Seven 

 Mountains in summer swarm with rattlesnakes and 

 copperheads. 



By the time he had finished it was dark, and I 

 thought with a great longing of food and fire — 

 especially fire. It did not seem possible to be so cold 

 and still live. In the very nick of time, for me at 

 least, we caught sight of the lamplight streaming 

 from the windows of the Squire's house. Dripping, 

 chilled, tired, and starving, we burst into Mrs. 

 McMahon's immaculate kitchen and were treated 

 by the old couple like a pair of long-lost sons. In 

 less than two minutes our waterlogged shoes were off, 

 our wet coats and sogged sweaters spread out to 

 dry, and we sat huddled over a glowing stove while 

 Mrs. McMahon fried fish, made griddle-cakes, and 

 brewed hot tea simultaneously and with a swiftness 

 that just saved two lives. We ate and ate and ate 

 and ate, and then, in a huge feather-bed, we slept 



