168 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 



We took possession of what had been a shingle- shop, 

 attracted by its huge fireplace. We floored it with 

 balsam boughs, hung its walls with our "traps," 

 and sent the smoke curling again from its disused 

 chimney. 



The most musical and startling sound we heard in 

 the woods greeted our ears that evening about sun- 

 down as we sat on a log in front of our quarters, — 

 the sound of slow, measured pounding in the valley 

 below us. We did not know how near we were to 

 human habitations, and the report of the lumber- 

 man's mallet, like the hammering of a great wood- 

 pecker, was music to the ear and news to the mind. 

 The air was still and dense, and the silence such as 

 alone broods over these little openings in the primi- 

 tive woods. My soldier started as if he had heard 

 a signal-gun. The sound, coming so far through 

 the forest, sweeping over those great wind-harps of 

 trees, became wild and legendary, though probably 

 made by a lumberman driving a wedge or working 

 about his mill. 



We expected a friendly visit from porcupines that 

 night, as we saw where they had freshly gnawed all 

 about us; hence, when a red squirrel came and 

 looked in upon us very early in the morning and 

 awoke us by his snickering and giggling, my com- 

 rade cried out, "There is your porcupig." How the 

 frisking red rogue seemed to enjoy what he had 

 found! He looked in at the door and snickered, 

 then in at the window, then peeked down from be- 

 tween the rafters and cachinnated till his sides must 



