favorable sign as I went forward, I laid down my accoutrements, and
climbed a decayed beech that leaned out over the swamp and promised a
good view from the top. As I stretched myself up to look around from
the highest attainable branch, there was suddenly a loud crack at the
root. With a celerity that would at least have done credit to a bear,
I regained the ground, having caught but a momentary glimpse of the
country, but enough to convince me no lake was near. Leaving all
incumbrances here but my gun, I still pressed on, loath to be thus
baffled. After floundering through another alder swamp for nearly
half a mile, I flattered myself that I was close on to the lake. I
caught sight of a low spur of the mountain sweeping around like a
half-extended arm, and I fondly imagined that within its clasp was the
object of my search. But I found only more alder swamp. After this
region was cleared, the creek began to descend the mountain very
rapidly. Its banks became high and narrow, and it went whirling away
with a sound that seemed to my ears like a burst of ironical laughter.
I turned back with a feeling of mingled disgust, shame, and vexation.
In fact I was almost sick, and when I reached my companions, after an
absence of nearly two hours, hungry, fatigued, and disheartened, I
would have sold my interest in Thomas's Lake at a very low figure. For
the first time, I heartily wished myself well out of the woods. Thomas
might keep his lake, and the enchanters guard his possession! I
doubted if he had ever found it the second time, or if any one else
ever had.

My companions, who were quite fresh, and who had not felt the strain
of baffled purpose as I had, assumed a more encouraging tone. After I
had rested awhile, and partaken sparingly of the bread and whiskey,
which in such an emergency is a great improvement on bread and water,
I agreed to their proposition that we should make another attempt. As
if to reassure us, a robin sounded his cheery call near by, and the
winter wren, the first I had heard in these woods, set his music-box
going, which fairly ran over with fine, gushing, lyrical sounds. There
can be no doubt but this bird is one of our finest songsters. If it
would only thrive and sing well when caged, like the canary, how far
it would surpass that bird! It has all the vivacity and versatility of
the canary, without any of its shrillness. Its song is indeed a little
cascade of melody.

We again retraced our step