placed at Jim's disposal, and he and the Benedicts were to drive through
during the night to the point on the river where he would leave his
boat. Mike was to find his horse there and take him home.

Having accomplished his business, Jim went on, and before the twilight
had deepened into night, he found himself briskly paddling up the
stream, and at ten o'clock he had drawn his little boat up the beach,
and embraced Turk, his faithful dog, whom he had left, not only to take
care of his cabin, but to provide for himself. He had already eaten his
supper, and five minutes after he entered his cabin he and his dog were
snoring side by side in a sleep too profound to be disturbed, even by
the trumpet of old Tilden.




CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH, JIM ENLARGES HIS ACCOMMODATIONS AND ADOPTS A VIOLENT METHOD OF
SECURING BOARDERS.


When Jim Fenton waked from his long and refreshing sleep, after his
weary tramp and his row upon the river, the sun was shining brightly,
the blue-birds were singing, the partridges were drumming, and a red
squirrel, which even Turk would not disturb, was looking for provisions
in his cabin, or eyeing him saucily from one of the beams over his head.
He lay for a moment, stretching his huge limbs and rubbing his eyes,
thinking over what he had undertaken, and exclaiming at last: "Well,
Jim, ye've got a big contrack," he jumped up, and, striking a fire,