long, rank grass that grew by the water to form a bed for their tired
bodies.

Every one was camp-hungry, as they had not halted for a meal since
leaving the settlement. After a splendid supper of venison, broiled
over sizzling logs, bread, and fried potatoes,--for they had added to
their stores at the farm,--they had a glorious social hour by the
camp-fire. Joe got off any amount of "ripping" stories; and the sound of
many a jolly chorus, led by Cyrus, and swelled by the musical efforts of
the entire crew, mingled with the lonely rustle of the night wind among
faded and drifting leaves.

When Doc's summons came to turn in, they stretched themselves upon the
grassy beds, not undressing, as the night was chilly and the temporary
quarters were not so snug as their previous ones. Still in their warm
jerseys, trousers, woollen stockings, and knitted caps, with the heat
from the piled-up camp-fire streaming under the raised flaps of the
tents, they slept as cosily as if they lay on spring mattresses,
surrounded by pictured walls.




CHAPTER XI.

BEAVER WORKS.


About noon on the following day they were obliged to bid farewell to Lin
Hathaway, his wagon and horses, as the logging-road went no farther. The