with its unfriendly nose against her cheek. I told her then to look at
the loft. She climbed the ladder and took a peek, descended with the
remark that she liked it and would take it for hers. Almost at once we
had perfect order in the hut.

Zoe cooked, and cleaned the rooms. I was busy with my new dwelling. I
killed enough game to keep us in meat. Sometimes standing in the doorway
I could bring down a deer. Then we had venison. But we were never
without quail and ducks and geese. Zoe made the most delicious
cornbread, baking it in a pan in the fireplace. The Engles brought us
some cider. I had bought a fiddle and was learning to play upon it. We
never lacked for diversion. In the evenings I played, or we read. My
days were full of duties connected with the new house, or the crops and
improvements for the next year. And spring would soon be here.

I was beginning to be looked upon as a driving man. They had scoffed at
me as a young Englishman who could not endure the frontier life, and who
knew nothing of farming. But they saw me take hold with so much vigor
and interest that I was soon spoken of as an immediate success. My
coming to the hut and living and doing for myself had helped greatly to
confirm me in their esteem. I saw nothing hazardous or courageous in it.
As for the daily life I could not have been more happily placed.

The fall went by. The winter descended. The brook was frozen. I had to
break the ice with the ax to get water. I had to spend an hour each day
cutting wood for the fireplace and bearing it into the hut. These were
the mornings when the cold bath, which I could never forego, no matter
what the circumstances were, tested my resolution. For I was sleeping in
the loft where the bitter wind fanned my cheeks during the night. Zoe
had found it too rigorous, and preferred the danger of an intruder to