partition was still standing, out of which we built a rude porch
on the east side of the house, large enough for us all to sleep under
if well packed, and eat under if we stood up. There was plenty of
well-seasoned timber lying about, and a fire was soon burning in front
of our quarters that made the scene social and picturesque, especially
when the frying-pans were brought into requisition, and the coffee, in
charge of Aaron, who was an artist in this line, mingled its aroma with
the wild-wood air. At dusk a balsam was felled, and the tips of the
branches used to make a bed, which was more fragrant than soft; hemlock
is better, because its needles are finer and its branches more elastic.

There was a spirt or two of rain during the night, but not enough to
find out the leaks in our roof. It took the shower or series of showers
of the next day to do that. They commenced about two o'clock in the
afternoon. The forenoon had been fine, and we had brought into camp
nearly three hundred trout; but before they were half dressed, or the
first panfuls fried, the rain set in. First came short, sharp dashes,
then a gleam of treacherous sunshine, followed by more and heavier
dashes. The wind was in the southwest, and to rain seemed the easiest
thing in the world. From fitful dashes to a steady pour the transition
was natural. We stood huddled together, stark and grim, under our
cover, like hens under a cart. The fire fought bravely for a time, and
retaliated with sparks and spiteful tongues of flame; but gradually its
spirit was broken, only a heavy body of coal and half-consumed logs in
the centre holding out against all odds. The simmering fish were soon
floating about in a yellow liquid that did not look in the least
appetizing. Point after point gave way in our cover, till standing
between the drops was no longer possible. The water coursed down the
underside of the boards, and dripped in our necks and formed puddles on
our hat-brims. We shifted our guns and traps and viands, till there was
no longer any choice of position, when the loaves and the fishes, the
salt and the sugar, the pork and the butter, shared the same watery
fate. The fire was gasping its last. Little rivulets coursed about it,
and bore away the quenched but steaming coals on their bosoms. The
spring run in the rear of our camp swelled so rapidly that part of the
trout that had been hastily left lying on its banks again found
themselves quite at home. For ove