erwards, but the American had had a lively time of it while
recovering his jack-light and righting the canoe on mid-pond. He was in
no mood for explanations.

"Keep the yarn, whatever it is, till to-morrow, Neal," he said. "I
didn't hear anything special. Perhaps I was too far away. I'm so wet and
jaded that I feel as limp as a washed-out rag. Let's get back to camp as
fast as we can."

CHAPTER III.

LIFE IN A BARK HUT.

It was two o'clock in the morning when the tired, draggled pair stumbled
ashore at the place where they embarked, hauled up their birch skiff,
leaving it to repose, bottom uppermost, under a screen of bushes, and
then stood for some minutes in deliberation.

"I'm sure I hope we can find the trail all right," said Cyrus. "Yes, I
see the blazes on the trees. Here's luck!"

He had been turning the jack-lamp on either side of him, trying to
discover the "blazes," or notches cut in some of the trunks, which
marked the "blazed trail"--in other words, the spotted line through the
otherwise trackless forest, which would lead him whither he wanted to
go.

It required considerable experience and unending watchfulness to follow
these "blazes"; but young Garst seemed to have the instinct of a true
woodsman, and went ahead unfalteringly, if vigilantly, while Neal
followed closely in his tracks.

After rather a lengthy trudge, they reached a point where the ground
sloped gently upward into a low bluff. Still keeping to the trail, they
ascended this eminence, finding the forest not so dense, and the walking
easier than it had been hitherto. Gaining the top, they emerged upon an
open patch, which had been cleared of its erect, massive pines, and the
long-hidden earth laid bare to the sky by the lumberman's axe.

Here the eagerly desired sight--that sight of all others to the tired
camper; namely, the camp itself, with its cheery, blazing
camp-fire--burst upon their view, sheltered by a group of sapling pines,
which had grown up since their giant brothers went to make timber.

Now, a Maine camp, as every one knows, may consist of any temporary
shelter you choose to name, according to the tastes and opportunities
of its occupants, from a fair white canvas home to a log cabin or a
hastily erected canopy of spruce boughs. In the present instance it was
a "wangen," or hut of strong bark, such as is sometimes used by
lumbermen to rest and sleep in when they are driving their floats of
timber down one of