102 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDEENESS. 



Diver, — ever on the alert, liad gone under with the 

 flash ; and the bullet, striking the SAvirl made by 

 his dive, glanced np, and went bounding, in ever- 

 lessening skips, across the lake. The crack of the 

 rifle awoke John from a slumber such as men sleep 

 after fourteen hours of constant rowing ; and, start- 

 ing up, the fire was soon rekindled, and the coffee 

 boiling. Soon all was ready, and we were pro- 

 visioning ourselves for the coming day. Trout, 

 coffee, and the inevitable flapjacks made up the 

 bill of fare. 



The morning, in its atmospheric appearances, was 

 peculiar. Not a breath of air was stirring. The 

 little lake was as liquid glass, without ripple or 

 seam. Even the forest, that, like the sensitive 

 strings of a harp, is rarely, if ever, silent, sent 

 forth no sound, and its dim recesses were still as 

 death. Above, the clouds were dull and slaty. 

 They, too, hung motionless. No scud drifted 

 athwart their surface ; no rift broke their smooth 

 expanse. The sun, with its broad face barred with 

 streaks of cloud, looked red and fiery. It had 

 a hot, angry look, as if enraged at seeing the ob- 

 structions in its upward path. In the west, out 

 of the slaty cloud, the white and feathery heads of 

 some cumuli upreared themselves, suggesting rain 

 and the hot blaze of lightning. 



"Jolm," said I, as we each sat with a warm 

 trout in one hand and a pint-cup of coffee in 



