BIRCH BROWSINGS 163 
we should “bear well to the left” when we reached 
the top of the mountain. This opened the doors 
again; ‘bearing well to the left” was an uncertain 
performance in strange woods. We might bear so 
well to the left that it would bring us ill, But 
why bear to the left at all, if the lake was directly 
opposite? Well, not quite opposite; a little to the 
left. There were two or three other valleys that 
headed in near there. We could easily find the 
right one. But to make assurance doubly sure, we 
engaged a guide, as stated, to give us a good start, 
and go with us beyond the bearing-to-the-left point. 
He had been to the lake the winter before and knew 
the way. Our course, the first half hour, was along 
an obscure wood-road which had been used for draw- 
ing ash logs off the mountain in winter. There was 
some hemlock, but more maple and birch. The 
woods were dense and free from underbrush, the 
ascent gradual. Most of the way we kept the voice 
of the creek in our ear on the right. I approached 
it once, and found it swarming with trout. The 
water was as cold as one ever need wish. After a 
while the ascent grew steeper, the creek became a 
mere rill that issued from beneath loose, moss-cov- 
ered rocks and stones, and with much labor and 
puffing we drew ourselves up the rugged declivity. 
Every mountain has its steepest point, which is 
usually near the summit, in keeping, I suppose, 
with the providence that makes the darkest houri 
just before day. It is steep, steeper, steepest, till! 
you emerge on the smooth level or gently rounded 
