CHAPTEE XY 

 A SMOKY ATMOSPHERE 



* ' Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 

 Where most it promises : and oft it hits 

 Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits." 



ALL'S WELL. 



IT was a most peculiar hunting season. The air, 

 having been loaded with dense smoke for many days 

 and weeks, was dry and resonant. A breaking twig 

 sounded almost like the cracking of a sapling. The 

 laugh of the loon reverberated from ridge to ridge, and 

 his " ha-ha's " echoed and reechoed for a long time. 



The noisy barking of the red squirrels never sounded 

 louder, and on our approach they told every living 

 thing in the forest, " Look out, look out, a man is 

 coming." 



The hammering of the hollow trees by the big red- 

 headed woodpeckers sounded like blows struck by a 

 wooden mallet. 



I had ordered the roof to be removed from a camp 

 on the farther side of the lake, and so as to be out 

 of reach of the noise, I took a road that led back 

 through a great swamp on our side of the water. 

 Two miles or more into the swamp was traveled, until 

 a likely place for watching for game was found, and 

 here I sat down to watch and to listen. 



Maybe half an hour passed, and then I heard a crash 



