unerring precision, notwithstanding the forest was so dense and overgrown
with underbrush as to render it almost impervious to sight, and to an utter
stranger a bewildering labyrinth, from whose mazes he might labor in vain
to extricate himself, unless, indeed, he possessed the almost instinctive
tact of the Indian, or the thorough knowledge of the most experienced
backwoodsman.

Why Duffel was so obscurely careful in selecting his way, will presently be
seen. In the direction last taken, he traveled on until the sun was bending
to the western horizon, when he came to a thicket of bushes and vines, so
compact in growth it seemed an impossibility to enter it, even in a
crawling position, without the aid of an ax and pruning-knife. Glancing
this way and that, as if to assure himself that no one was near, a
precaution that might almost be set down as a useless exhibition of
timidity in that wild out-of-the-way place, so far from the habitation of
civilised man. Duffel, when satisfied that no human eye was upon him,
dismounted, and leading his steed by the bridle a short distance to the
left, paused, looked around him again, and then lifting a pendant prong of
a bush, with a very slight exertion of strength, he moved back a large mass
of vines and branches, which had been with great care and ingenuity, and at
the expense of much labor, wrought into a door or gate of living
durability.

Through this gate-way he first sent his horse, then entered and passed
through himself, carefully shutting the verdure-hidden door behind him, and
no eye could discover the place where he had disappeared.

From this entrance, a road, some five or six feet wide had been cut out
into the middle of the thicket, which was a large open area covered with
grass and shaded by bushy trees, of small altitude, with wide-extended