bo 
nr 
A, PROFITABLE OUTING. 
I believe that the change, he lying wrapped warm in an 
abundance of wraps and clothing, the blue sky over his head, 
the sunshine warm and bright upon him, breathing in the 
pure bracing air that fanned his wasted, but even now, warm, 
moist cheek, began to cheer and cure him. And the faithful 
Indian had much to do with this change. Sitting in the stern 
looking down upon him smilingly, as he plied his paddle, and 
with strong assurance telling him like this, ‘* You no be sick 
any much, when we get little while in camp. Only very 
littleum time fore you go shootum deer once more, all lone.” 
Reminding him of the speckled beauties at the mouth of the 
brook, just below the camp-ground, and of the three, four, 
and even five pound salmon-trout at the very door of the tent 
at the foot of the falls, and in the rips. Describing the many 
good dishes he should cook for him, all furnished from forest 
and stream. Those juicy steaks of venison, the salmon-trout 
broiled upon the coals, and roasted and smothered beneath 
them, retaining all its juices and flavor, the delicate soups 
from the venison, and the grouse, all .about them, and, as he 
grows a little stronger, the more hearty smothers of venison, 
cooked long and slowly, tightly covered meanwhile, in the 
bake-kettle. 
The changing scenes in this forest life; the faithfulness and 
watchful care of his staunch Indian friend; his own love for 
this kind of life, would bring the strongest hopes to him and 
banish all despondency. 
The Indian’s knowledge of, and aptness in preparing the 
many plants and roots for his drinks, his fragrant bough bed, 
with a warm fire at his feet day and night, so much to inter- 
est and cheer him through the day, his quiet, peaceful sleep 
from dark until the early morning’s light, why should he not 
