a
few dying embers which the guide had thrashed out with his feet.

No halt was made until four o'clock in the afternoon. Then Herb Heal
came to a standstill on the edge of a wide bog. It lay between him and
what he called the "first heavy growth;" that is, the primeval forest,
unthinned by axe of man, which at certain points clothes the foot of
Katahdin.

The great mountain, dwelling-place of Pamolah, cradle of the flying
Thunder and flashing Lightning, which according to one Indian legend are
the swooping sons of the Mountain Spirit, now towered before the
travellers, its base only a mile distant.

"I've a good mind to make camp right here," said Herb, surveying the bog
and then the firm earth on which he stood. "We may travel a longish ways
farther, and not strike such a fair camping-ground, unless we go on up
the side of the mountain to that old home-camp I was telling you about,
which we built when we were trapping. I guess it's standing yet, and
'twould be a snug shelter; but we'd have a hard pull to reach it this
evening. What d'ye say, boys?"

"I vote for pitching the tent right here," answered Cyrus.

The English boys were of the same mind, and the guide forthwith
unstrapped his heavy pack-basket. As he hauled forth its contents, and
strewed them on the ground, the first article which made its appearance
was the moose-horn; it had been carefully stowed in on top. Dol snatched
it up as a dog might snatch a bone, and touched it with longing in every
finger-tip.

"There's one bad thing about this place," grumbled Herb presently,
surveying the landscape wherever his eye could travel, "there isn't a
pint of drinking-water to be seen. There may be pools here and there in
that bog; but, unless we want to keel over before morning, we'd better
let 'em alone. Say! could a couple of you fellows take the camp-kettle,
and cruise about a bit in search of a spring?"

"I volunteer for the job!" cried Dol instantly, with the light of some
sudden idea shining like a sunburst in his face.

"You don't budge a step, old man, unless I go with you," said Cyrus.
"Not much! I don't want to patrol the forests like a lunatic for five
mortal hours in search of you, and then find you roasting your shins by
some other fellow's camp-fire. One little hide-and-seek game of that
kind was enough."

"Well! the fact that I did bring up by Doc's camp-fire shows that I am
able to take care of myself. If I get into scrapes, I can wriggle o