wedging it firmly with bits of rock, he attached the raw-hide rope to
it, and flung the loose end over the precipice. Then, hanging over the
edge, he grasped the rope firmly and slowly slid down. As he reached the
end he hesitated for a moment, and glanced below. His feet dangled on a
level with the top of the upmost tree. He dreaded to drop, but there was
nothing else to do, and the next moment he was rolling and scrambling in
the loose gravel and rounded pebbles of the heap of debris. At last he
brought up against a tree-trunk, bruised and shaken, but with unbroken
bones.

He had now overcome the most difficult part of his hazardous trip; and,
though the way was still so rough as to demand the exercise of the
utmost care and skill and the use of every ounce of strength he
possessed, it presented no obstacles that these could not surmount.

Finally, some time in the afternoon, he came to a narrow strip of
meadow-land, where flowers were blooming amid the grass, and on which
warm sunlight was streaming. Here, too, he found a few blueberries,
which he ate ravenously. What should he do for something more
substantial? He was close beside the stream, which here flowed quietly,
with pleasant ripplings, when he was startled by a splash in it. It must
have been a fish jumping. Why had he not thought of fish before? How
should he catch them?

Necessity is the best sharpener of wits, and, in less than half an hour,
Glen was fishing with a line made of fibres from the inner skin of
spruce bark, a hook formed of a bent pin, baited with a grasshopper, and
the whole attached to a crooked bit of branch. Not only was he fishing,
but he was catching the most beautiful brook-trout he had ever seen
almost as fast as he could re-bait and cast his rude tackle. There was
no art required. Nobody had ever fished in these waters before, and the
trout were apparently as eager to be caught as he was to catch them.

Glen had not neglected to light a fire before he began his fishing, and
by the time half a dozen of the dainty little fellows were caught a fine
bed of hot coals was awaiting them. The boy knew very little of the art
of cooking, but what he did know was ample for the occasion. His fish
were speedily cleaned, laid on the coals for a minute, turned, left a
minute longer, and eaten. When the first half-dozen had disappeared he
caught more, and treated them in the same way. He had no salt, no
condiments, no accessories of any kind, sav