162 HILLS AND LAKES. 



haunches, watching us calmly from the point, and he 

 trotted gaily along the bank, as we floated to our 

 landing-place by our shantee. 



The evening was close and dark, save when the 

 millions of fire-flies flashed their little torches over 

 the water. The tree-frogs quavered vociferously all 

 around us, and the old owl hooted mournfully from 

 his perch in the dense foliage, as we lay down to 

 sleep. About two o'clock in the morning I awoke, 

 and the rain was pattering steadily on the roof of our 

 shantee, and dripping in big drops from the leaves of 

 the trees. It was a soothing and pleasant sound, the 

 steady falling of the rain on our shantee, and among 

 the dead leases. The tree-frog had ceased his music, 

 and all the wild forest notes were hushed. I glided 

 away into slumber again, and slept an hour later in 

 the morning, than I had done before, since I entered 

 the woods. My guide was up when I awoke, and busy 

 preparing breakfast. He had, while I slept, caught 

 some fine trout, which, with a venison steak, he was 

 broiling on the coals. The rain was still falling steadily, 

 the clouds were sweeping low, and wet and heavy 

 above us before a steady but slight southern breeze, 

 and all around us betokened a wet, unpleasant day. 



