was by
far the steepest descent we had made, and we felt a grim satisfaction
in knowing that we could not retrace our steps this time, be the issue
what it might. As we paused on the brink of a ledge of rocks, we
chanced to see through the trees distant cleared land. A house or barn
was dimly descried. This was encouraging; but we could not make out
whether it was on Beaver Kill or Mill Brook or Dry Brook, and did not
long stop to consider where it was. We at last brought up at the
bottom of a deep gorge, through which flowed a rapid creek that
literally swarmed with trout. But we were in no mood to catch them,
and pushed on along the channel of the stream, sometimes leaping from
rock to rock, and sometimes splashing heedlessly through the water,
and speculating the while as to where we should probably come out.
On the Beaver Kill, my companions thought; but, from the position of
the sun, I said, on the Mill Brook, about six miles below our team;
for I remembered having seen, in coming up this stream, a deep, wild
valley that led up into the mountains, like this one. Soon the banks
of the stream became lower, and we moved into the woods. Here we
entered upon an obscure wood-road, which presently conducted us into
the midst of a vast hemlock forest. The land had a gentle slope, and
we wondered why the lumbermen and barkmen who prowl through these
woods had left this fine tract untouched. Beyond this the forest was
mostly birch and maple.

[Illustration: IN THE WOODS]

We were now close to the settlement, and began to hear human sounds.
One rod more, and we were out of the woods. It took us a moment to
comprehend the scene. Things looked very strange at first; but quickly
they began to change and to put on familiar features. Some magic
scene-shifting seemed to take place before my eyes, till, instead of
the unknown settlement which I at first seemed to look upon, there
stood the farmhouse at which we had stopped two days before, and at
the same moment we heard the stamping of our team in the barn. We sat
down and laughed heartily over our good luck. Our desperate venture
had resulted better than we had dared to hope, and had shamed our
wisest plans. At the house our arrival had been anticipated about this
time, and dinner was being put upon the table.

It was then five o'clock, so that we had been in the woods just
forty-eight hours; but if time is only phenomenal, as the philosophers
say, and life only in feelin