ce to be off. So full was he of anticipations
concerning the proposed journey that he could talk and think of nothing
else. Thus, after a month of tiresome delay, he was in such an
uncomfortable frame of mind that it was a positive trial to have him
about the house. For this reason he was encouraged to spend much of
his time aboard the raft, and was even allowed to eat and sleep there
whenever he chose. At length he reached the point of almost
quarrelling with his sister, whom he loved so dearly; but he had hardly
plunged into the woods, after leaving her on the raft, before he
regretted his unkind words and heartily wished them unsaid. He
hesitated and half turned back, but his "pride," as he would have
called it, though it was really nothing but cowardice, was too strong
to permit him to humble himself just yet. So, feeling very unhappy, he
tramped moodily on through the woods, full of bitter thoughts, angry
with himself and all the world. Yet if any one had asked him what it
was all about, he could not have told.

Winn took a long circuit through the silent forest, and by the time he
again reached the river-bank, coming out just above the mill, he had
walked himself tired, but into quite a cheerful frame of mind. The
mill was shut down for the night, its workers had gone home, and not a
sound broke the evening stillness. The boy sat on a pile of slabs for
a few minutes, resting, and watching the glowing splendor of sunset as
reflected in the waters of the stream at his feet. At length he
started up and was about to go to the house, where, as he had decided,
his very first act would be to ask Elta's forgiveness. The house stood
some distance from the river-bank, and was hidden from it by the trees
of a young apple orchard. As Winn rose to his feet and cast a
lingering glance at the wonderful beauty of the water, he noticed a
familiar black object floating amid its splendor of crimsons and gold.

"I wonder how that log got out of the boom?" he said, half aloud.
"Why, there's another--and another! The boom must be broken."

Yes, the boom of logs, chained together end to end and stretched
completely across the creek to hold in check the thousands of saw-logs
that filled the stream farther than the eye could see, had parted near
the opposite bank. The end thus loosened had swung down-stream a
little way, and there caught on a snag formed of a huge, half-submerged
root. It might hold on there indefinitely,