th back, more or less depressed, which the
hunter aims to bestride; rising rapidly from this is pretty sure to be
a rough, curving ridge that carries the forest up to some highest peak.
We were lucky in hitting the saddle, but we could see a little to the
south the sharp, steep neck of the steed sweeping up toward the sky
with an erect mane of balsam fir.

These mountains are steed-like in other respects: any timid and
vacillating course with them is sure to get you into trouble. One must
strike out boldly, and not be disturbed by the curveting and shying;
the valley you want lies squarely behind them, but farther off than you
think, and if you do not go for it resolutely, you will get bewildered
and the mountain will play you a trick.

I may say that Aaron and I kept a tight rein and a good pace till we
struck a water-course on the other side, and that we clattered down it
with no want of decision till it emptied into a larger stream which we
knew must be the East Branch. An abandoned fishpole lay on the stones,
marking the farthest point reached by some fisherman. According to our
reckoning, we were five or six miles above the settlement, with a good
depth of primitive woods all about us.

We kept on down the stream, now and then pausing at a likely place
to take some trout for dinner, and with an eye out for a good
camping-ground. Many of the trout were full of ripe spawn, and a
few had spawned, the season with them being a little later than on
the stream we had left, perhaps because the water was less cold.
Neither had the creek here any such eventful and startling career.
It led, indeed, quite a humdrum sort of life under the roots and
fallen treetops and among the loose stones. At rare intervals it
beamed upon us from some still reach or dark cover, and won from
us our best attention in return.

The day was quite spent before we had pitched our air-woven tent and
prepared our dinner, and we gathered boughs for our bed in the
gloaming. Breakfast had to be caught in the morning and was not served
early, so that it was nine o'clock before we were in motion. A little
bird, the red-eyed vireo, warbled most cheerily in the trees above our
camp, and, as Aaron said, "gave us a good send-off." We kept down the
stream, following the inevitable bark road.

My companion had refused to look at another "dividing ridge" that had
neither path nor way, and henceforth I must keep to the open road or
travel alone. Two hours' t