CROSSING THE CARRY. 123 



followed suit with the gridiron. Then my fishing- 

 basket and a bag of bullets mounted upward. 

 Never before was such a battle waged, or such 

 weapons used. The air was full of missiles. Tin 

 plates, oar-locks, the axe, gridiron, and pieces of 

 pork were all in the air at once. How long the 

 contest would have continued I cannot tell, had it 

 not been brought to a glorious termination ; but at 

 last the heavy iron camp-kettle, hurled by John's 

 nervous wrist, striking the limb fair, crashed 

 through like a forty-pound shot, and down came 

 boots, oars, paddle, and all. Gathering the scat- 

 tered articles together, we took our respective bur- 

 dens, and pushed ahead. Weary and hot, we 

 reached at length the margin of the swamp, and 

 our feet stood once more upon solid ground. 



At this juncture another cloud from out of the 

 west swept up the heavens, and its distended 

 borders, heavy with rain, parted, and down the 

 plunging torrents came. The wind, sweeping 

 through the lofty pine-tops over our heads, 

 sounded like the rush of airy squadrons charging 

 to battle. The lightning blazed amid the descend- 

 ing sheets of water, lurid and red, or shot its elec- 

 tric currents amid the trees ; while, overhead, peal 

 and boom and rattling volleys rolled and broke. 

 Forcing our way along through spruce and balsam 

 thickets, and heavy undergrowfii of deer-bush, 

 which flapped their broad flat leaves, loaded with 



