190 BIRCH BROWSINGS. 



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 

 encumbrances 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 

 disheartened, I would have sold my interest in Thomas's 

 Lake at a very low figure. For the first time, I heart- 

 ily wished myself well out of the woods. Thomas might 



