ere from?" demanded the taller of the two.

"Head of Chesuncook. Going to Bangor. Can I stay here to-night?"

"Of course you can. Had any supper?"

"Not a mouthful."

"Something left--wasn't there, Zeke?" said he, turning to his comrade,
who was now pouring cold sap into the "heater."

"Enough for one, I guess," said Zeke; and, taking a bucket and a
wooden bowl from under the hemlock, he produced a slab of johnny-cake
from the former, and, pouring out something like a quart of maple
sirup into the latter, bade me "go ahead."

I did so without further invitation, and never made a better supper,
the programme being to dip the bread into the sirup, mouthful by
mouthful.

The boys were now preparing their night's wood.

There had been, they said, "an excellent run of sap" during the last
few days. The kettles were kept boiling day and night, steadily. It
was truly a wild scene. Clouds of steam gushed up from the surging
kettles; and the fires gleamed brighter as the darkness deepened,
while all about us seemed a wall of blackness. But my long tramp had
thoroughly tired me down, and my recollections of the remainder of the
evening are a little drowsy, though I learned in the course of it that
the names of the two youthful sugar-makers, upon whose camp I had
stumbled, were Zeke Murch and Sam Bubar; and I also helped to take off
a large kettle of hot sirup, which we set in a snow-drift, two or
three rods from the fire, to cool. This done, I was soon asleep,
rolled up in an old coverlet, and knew very little till, hearing
voices, I opened my eyes to the fact that the sun was staring me in
the face from over the eastward ridge, as if surprised at my sloth.

Hastily unrolling myself, I saw Sam and Zeke out at the kettle we had
set in the snow, pointing and excitedly discussing something.

"Old scamp!" exclaimed Zeke. "What work he's made here!"

"All this sugar gone--spoiled!" cried Sam.

"What is it?" said I, going out to them. "What's the matter?"

"Why," said Sam, turning and laughing in spite of his vexation,
"something has _guzzled_ up 'most the whole of this 'honey' we set out
here last night. Only see there!"

The kettle, which must have held several pailfuls, was nearly empty;
and what was left hadn't a very inviting look certainly.

"What in the world ate all that?" cried I.

"Well--a bear, we expect," said Zeke. "There's been one hanging round
here for several nights. We heard him _hoot out_, down in