forest-guide like Uncle Eb, nor a rough lumberman such as he had heard
of. He would have taken him for a pioneer farmer,--not having yet
encountered such a character,--but there could be no farm on this little
bit of clearing. And he was too dazed to see that there were signs of a
cultivated intelligence in the tanned, beaming face under the
horn-blower's broad-brimmed hat. Indeed, the hat itself, its wearer, log
huts, canoes, and trees seemed to have a strange propensity to waltz
before the lad's eyes, and there was a queer waving sensation in his
own legs, as if they, too, would join in the spinning movement. For as
he advanced into the light out of the sombre shadows, a dizziness from
long tramping in the woods, and from a hunger such as he had never
before experienced, overcame him. He reeled against an outstanding tree,
troubled by an affliction which Uncle Eb had called "wheels in his
head."

"Ho! you boys. Where in thunder are you? Come to supper, or the venison
will be spoiled!" shouted the possessor of the horn again, shutting one
eye into which a crimson ray was pouring, while he swept the skirts of
the woods with the other; and there was music as well as bluster in his
shout.

Lo! the first to answer this fetching invitation was the foot-sore,
leg-weary boy, pale from exhaustion, with his strange equipment of
powder-horn, coon-skin pouch, and ancient shot-gun, who, getting partly
the better of his giddiness, crossed the clearing slowly, as if he was
groping his way. Within a few feet of the horn-blower he halted; for the
man had lowered his horn, and was gazing at him with keen, questioning
eyes. Dol tried to find suitable speech to express his need; but though
words came with considerable effort, his voice sounded hoarse and creaky
in his own ears, and threatened to crack off altogether.