personal hospitality; but oftener we
were forced to make ourselves "paying
guests" at some house. We cared noth-
ing whether we slept in the spare rooms
of a fine frame "residence" or crept
into bed beneath the eaves of the attic
in a log cabin. I had begun to feel that
our journey would be almost too tame
and comfortable, when one night some-
thing really happened.

Father lost his bearings. He was
hoping to reach the town of Gratiot by
nightfall, and he attempted to make a
short cut. To do this he turned into
a road that wound through a magnifi-
cent forest, at first of oak and butter-
nut, ironwood and beech, then of
densely growing pines. When we en-
tered the wood it was twilight, but no
sooner were we well within the shadow
of these sombre trees than we were
plunged in darkness, and within half an
hour this darkness deepened, so that
we could see nothing -- not even the
horse.

"The sun doesn't get in here the
year round," said father, trying his
best to guide the horse through the