r two hours the floods came down.
About four o'clock Orville, who had not yet come from the day's sport,
appeared. To say Orville was wet is not much; he was better than
that,--he had been washed and rinsed in at least half a dozen waters,
and the trout that he bore dangling at the end of a string hardly
knew that they had been out of their proper element.

But he brought welcome news. He had been two or three miles down the
creek, and had seen a log building,--whether house or stable he did not
know, but it had the appearance of having a good roof, which was
inducement enough for us instantly to leave our present quarters. Our
course lay along an old wood-road, and much of the time we were to our
knees in water. The woods were literally flooded everywhere. Every
little rill and springlet ran like a mill-tail, while the main stream
rushed and roared, foaming, leaping, lashing, its volume increased
fifty-fold. The water was not roily, but of a rich coffee-color, from
the leachings of the woods. No more trout for the next three days! we
thought, as we looked upon the rampant stream.

After we had labored and floundered along for about an hour, the road
turned to the left, and in a little stumpy clearing near the creek a
gable uprose on our view. It did not prove to be just such a place as
poets love to contemplate. It required a greater effort of the
imagination than any of us were then capable of to believe it had ever
been a favorite resort of wood-nymphs or sylvan deities. It savored
rather of the equine and the bovine. The bark-men had kept their teams
there, horses on the one side and oxen on the other, and no Hercules
had ever done duty in cleansing the stables. But there was a dry loft
overhead with some straw, where we might get some sleep, in spite of
the rain and the midges; a double layer of boards, standing at a very
acute angle, would keep off the former, while the mingled refuse hay
and muck beneath would nurse a smoke that would prove a thorough
protection against the latter. And then, when Jim, the two-handed,
mounting the trunk of a prostrate maple near by, had severed it thrice
with easy and familiar stroke, and, rolling the logs in front of the
shanty, had kindled a fire, which, getting the better of the dampness,
soon cast a bright glow over all, shedding warmth and light even into
the dingy stable, I consented to unsling my knapsack and accept the
situation. The rain had ceased, and the sun shone out