for about two hours, when we paused by a spring that issued from
beneath an immense wall of rock that belted the highest part of the
mountain. There was quite a broad plateau here, and the birch wood was
very dense, and the trees of unusual size.

After resting and exchanging opinions, we all concluded that is was
best not to continue our search encumbered as we were; but we were not
willing to abandon it altogether, and I proposed to my companions to
leave them beside the spring with our traps, while I made one thorough
and final effort to find the lake. If I succeeded and desired them to
come forward, I was to fire my gun three times; if I failed and wished
to return, I would fire twice, they of course responding.

So, filling my canteen from the spring, I set out again, taking the
spring run for my guide. Before I had followed it two hundred yards,
it sank into the ground at my feet. I had half a mind to be
superstitious and to believe that we were under a spell, since our
guides played us such tricks. However, I determined to put the matter
to a further test, and struck out boldly to the left. This seemed to
be the keyword,--to the left, to the left. The fog had now lifted, so
that I could form a better idea of the lay of the land. Twice I looked
down the steep sides of the mountain, sorely attempted to risk a
plunge. Still I hesitated and kept along on the brink. As I stood on a
rock deliberating, I heard a crackling of the brush, like the tread of
some large game, on the plateau below me. Suspecting the truth of the
case, I moved stealthily down, and found a herd of young cattle
leisurely browsing. We had several times crossed their trail, and had
seen that morning a level, grassy place on the top of the mountain,
where they had passed the night. Instead of being frightened, as I had
expected, they seemed greatly delighted, and gathered around me as if
to inquire the tidings from the outer world,--perhaps the quotations
of the cattle market. They came up to me, and eagerly licked my hand,
clothes, and gun. Salt was what they were after, and they were ready
to swallow anything that contained the smallest percentage of it. They
were mostly yearlings and as sleek as moles. They had a very gamy
look. We were afterwards told that, in the spring, the farmers round
about turn into these woods their young cattle, which do not come out
again till fall. They are then in good condition,--not fat, like
grass-fed cattle, but