The time was the year 1872, and the place a bend in the river above
a long pond terminating in a dam. Beyond this dam, and on a flat
lower than it, stood a two-story mill structure. Save for a small,
stump-dotted clearing, and the road that led from it, all else was
forest. Here in the bottom-lands, following the course of the
stream, the hardwoods grew dense, their uppermost branches just
beginning to spray out in the first green of spring. Farther back,
where the higher lands arose from the swamp, could be discerned the
graceful frond of white pines and hemlock, and the sturdy tops of
Norways and spruce.

A strong wind blew up the length of the pond. It ruffled the
surface of the water, swooping down in fan-shaped, scurrying cat's-
paws, turning the dark-blue surface as one turns the nap of velvet.
At the upper end of the pond it even succeeded in raising quite
respectable wavelets, which LAP LAP LAPPED eagerly against a barrier
of floating logs that filled completely the mouth of the inlet
river. And behind this barrier were other logs, and yet others, as
far as the eye could see, so that the entire surface of the stream
was carpeted by the brown timbers. A man could have walked down the
middle of that river as down a highway.

On the bank, and in a small woods-opening, burned two fires, their
smoke ducking and twisting under the buffeting of the wind. The
first of these fires occupied a shallow trench dug for its
accommodation, and was overarched by a rustic framework from which
hung several pails, kettles, and pots. An injured-looking, chubby
man in a battered brown derby hat moved here and there. He divided
his time between the utensils and an indifferent youth--his