upon me as the mass of dark green 
foliage opened a sky-light in the tim- 
ber when it fell. 
After the falling of the tree the 
silence of the woods seemed deeper 
than before: then, back, far back, I 
heard a sound I knew. ‘“Boom-boom- 
boom-b-r-r-r-r!” it went. It was a 
partridge, drumming. 
P the bole of a big cedar a gray 
squirrel went running, the soft 
bark making a good foothold for him. 
He ran out on a short, dead limb, 
and _ scolded. 
“What are you doing with my trees? 
What business have you coming into 
my woods and spoiling them?” 
Oh, he was real sassy; and he’d 
have probably continued swearing at 
me if the shadow of sinister wings 
had not startled him and sent him 
scattering into a convenient hole in 
the hollow cedar. He was none too 
soon, for a large hawk swept silently 
by, and disappeared in the shadows as 
quickly as he had come. To the small 
fry of the woods the passing of a 
hawk must seem like the passing of 
the death angel—or devil. It was 
some time before the gray boy with 
the sharp, protruding eyes, ventured 
to pop his head out of the hole in 
the cedar and reconnoiter. When at 
length he did venture forth, he made 
a dash down the tree trunk and beat 
it for the denser timber. 
The fir tree felled, I grinned, plac- 
ing my foot upon the trunk, as a vic- 
torious gladiator might have done upon 
his prostrate foe. Then, wiping my 
forehead on my shirtsleeve, I stepped 
over to the tent and to the fire where 
water was boiling furiously in the 
pail suspended above it. I made tea, 
fried bacon and eggs, then settled 
down to eat. 
Man! Only those who have lived 
and labored in the forest can realize 
the delicious blend of frying bacon 
with the sweet fragrance of cedars 
and the aroma of pine and_ spruce 
resins and gums! 
And so I went on 
with my tree-fell- 
ing, following the 
blazed trail I had 
made on a former 
occasion; and I 
made good prog- 
ress. 
I had laid aside 
my axe and was 
using my hatchet 
to chop down a 
number of sap- 
lings grown in the 
way, when I heard 
a most unusual 
sound. My head 
was bent low, my 
74 
face to the ground, when a curious 
humming sound like the buzz of ma- 
chinery smote my ears. I arose to 
an erect position, and then some- 
thing else smote my ear, painfully, 
causing me to give a _ sharp cry. 
Then something like a hot needle 
pierced my cheek,—and I soon real- 
ized that I had run my head into the 
paper-bag factory of a lot of busy 
hornets. 
With a bound I started away, 
crashing through tangles of wunder- 
brush and saplings that swept my 
face. How I ran! Then, reaching 
an open space, I paused, out of 
breath. I pulled two hornets out of 
my thick hair and raked one up from 
beneath my shirt collar. Two or 
three others I disposed of, but not 
before they had landed on my wrists 
and presented their compliments. 
The only thing that saved me from a 
more severe stinging was the fact 
that the whip-like saplings had 
brushed the creatures off as I ran. 
As it was the enemy had succeeded 
in wounding me in only five or six 
places. 
But now where was I? I must 
have run fully a quarter of a mile, 
but in what direction I could not de- 
cide. I looked about me, and then, to 
my astonishment, I found I was 
standing on an old but seldom-used 
trail, covered deep with the fallen 
and yellowing leaves of the ever- 
greens. 
A trail! What for? Where did 
it begin? Where did it lead to? Was 
it possible that someone was living 
not so very far away from me? I 
must investigate that trail. 
HEN, through the woods came a 
familiar sound,—the sound of 
Peter, whinnying. I fixed the direc- 
tion of the sound and started back 
for camp. Uniuckily for Peter, but 
luckily for me, I had neglected to 
give Peter his morning feed. He 
was whinnying to remind me of my 

neglect. As I returned I made note 
of certain landmarks that would 
guide me back, at first opportunity, 
to the mysterious trail, forgetting 
for the moment that I still carried 
my hatchet, or small axe, with which 
I might have blazed my way. I can- 
not understand to this day why I 
clung to the axe, for it seems as 
though I must have used both hands 
continuously to brush off the hornets 
or yellow-jackets. 
@* my way back I stopped at a 
small, still pool among the 
leaves, made by the rain of the pre- 
ceding day. My stings were burn- 
ing, and to cool them I plastered 
them with mud from beneath the mass 
of leaves at the bottom of the pool. 
Peter sensed my coming before I 
saw him, and he whinnyed loudly. 
“Pete, old boy, I apologize for for- 
getting you,” said I, as I carried his 
feed to him. 
He gave a low, gentle rumble and 
pawed the earth. 
“That'll be all right this time: but 
don’t let it occur again,’ was the way 
I interpreted Peter’s protest. 
Now, having been so badly stung, 
I did not feel like returning immedi- 
ately to the place where my clearing 
operations had been brought to such 
an abrupt and unpleasant conclusion. 
The enemy was probably still hover- 
ing around the demolished house. 
Then, while I was at the little spring 
on the bank-side, getting water for 
Peter, and finding some little diffi- 
culty in filling the pail on account of 
the shallowness of the pool, it occured 
to me that I might employ myself 
profitably in making a deeper pool 
for the water, and also cut some steps 
down the steep bank. 
Now the way I went about it was 
this. With a mattock I dug into the 
root-entwined earth before the rock, 
taking out about two feet of it. Then, 
descending to the shore I selected a 
number of smooth, round _ stones, 
about as large as 
a man’s fist, and 
in several labori- 
ous journeys car- 
ried them up the 
bank. Then, very 
carefully, I fitted 
them closely to 
of the pool. Then 
the problem pre- 
sented itself of 
the sides so that 
the earth would 
water. This prob- 
lem I soon solved. 
form the bottom 
how to build up 
not fall into the © 
: 
P 
‘ 
t 
\ 
(Cont. on page 115) d 
