CROSSING THE CARRY. 119 



piece of pork lay at my feet, and another was 

 sticking up, some ten feet off, in the mud. It 

 looked very queer, — slightly out of place. With 

 the same motion with which I hung my boots on 

 a limb, as I seated myself, I stuck my rifle care- 

 fully into the mud, muzzle downward. I never saw 

 a gun in that position before. It struck me as 

 being a good thing. There was no danger of its 

 falling over and breaking the stock. The first 

 thing I did was to pass the gridiron under me. 

 When that feat was accomplished, I felt more com- 

 posed. It 's pleasant for a man in the position I 

 was in to feel that he has something under him. 

 Even a chip or a small stump would have felt 

 comfortable. As I sat thinking how many uses a 

 gridiron could be put to, and estimating where I 

 should then have been if I had n't got it under 

 me, I heard John forcing his way, with the boat 

 on his back, through the thick undergrowth. 



" It won't do to let John see me in this posi- 

 tion," I said; and so, with a mighty effort, I 

 disengaged myself from the pack, flung off the 

 blanket from around my neck, and seizing hold 

 of a spruce limb which I could fortunately reach, 

 drew myself slowly up. I had just time to jerk 

 the rifle out of the mud and fish up about half'of 

 the trout, when John came struggling along. 



"John," said I, leaning unconcernedly against 

 a tree, as if nothing had happened, — " John, 



