l, and Henry became more sure than ever that it was the one that
flowed by Wareville. He was certain that the family resemblance was too
strong for him to be mistaken.

They floated on for hours, rarely using their poles to increase the
speed of the raft and by and by they began to pass between cliffs of
considerable height. The forest here was very dense. Mighty oaks and
hickories grew right at the water's edge, throwing out their boughs so
far that often the whole stream was in the shade. Henry enjoyed it. This
was one of the things that his fancy had pictured. He was now floating
down an unknown river, through unknown lands, and, like as not, his and
Paul's were the first human eyes that had ever looked upon these hills
and splendid forests. Reposing now after work and danger he breathed
again the breath of the wilderness. He loved it--its silence, its
magnificent spaces, and its majesty. He was glad that he had come to
Kentucky, where life was so much grander than it was back in the old
Eastern regions. Here one was not fenced in and confined and could grow
to his true stature.

They ate their dinner on the raft, still floating peacefully and tried
to guess how far they had come, but neither was able to judge the speed
of the current. Paul fitted himself into a snug place on their queer
craft and after a while went to sleep. Henry watched him, lest he turn
over and fall into the river and also kept an eye out for other things.

He was watching thus, when about the middle of the afternoon he saw a
thin dark line, lying like a thread, against the blue skies. He studied
it long and came to the conclusion that it was smoke.

"Smoke!" said he to himself. "Maybe that means Wareville."

The raft glided gently with the current, moving so smoothly and
peacefully that it was like the floating of a bubble on a summer sea.
Paul still lay in a dreamless sleep. The water was silver in the shade
and dim gold where the sunshine fell upon it, and the trees, a solid
mass, touched already by the brown of early autumn, dropped over the
stream. Afar, a fine haze, like a misty veil, hung over the forest. The
world was full of peace and primitive beauty.

They drifted on and the spire of smoke broadened and grew. The look of
the river became more and more familiar. Paul still slept and Henry
would not awaken him. He looked at the face of his comrade as he
slumbered and noticed for the first time that it was thin and pale. The
life i