passengers were nowhere to be seen, but I did not venture out. It
rained nearly all night, but the train made good speed, and reached
the land of daybreak nearly on time. The water in the river had
crept up during the night to within a few inches of my boat, but I
rolled over and took another nap, all the same. Then I arose, had a
delicious bath in the sweet, swift-running current, and turned my
thoughts toward breakfast. The making of the coffee was the only
serious problem. With everything soaked and a fine rain still
falling, how shall one build a fire? I made my way to a little
island above in quest of driftwood. Before I had found the wood I
chanced upon another patch of delicious wild strawberries, and took
an appetizer of them out of hand. Presently I picked up a yellow
birch stick the size of my arm. The wood was decayed, but the bark
was perfect. I broke it in two, punched out the rotten wood, and
had the bark intact. The fatty or resinous substance in this bark
preserves it, and makes it excellent kindling. With some seasoned
twigs and a scrap of paper I soon had a fire going that answered my
every purpose. More berries were picked while the coffee was
brewing, and the breakfast was a success.

The camper-out often finds himself in what seems a distressing
predicament to people seated in their snug, well-ordered houses;
but there is often a real satisfaction when things come to their
worst,--a satisfaction in seeing what a small matter it is, after
all; that one is really neither sugar nor salt, to be afraid of the
wet; and that life is just as well worth living beneath a scow or a
dug-out as beneath the highest and broadest roof in Christendom.

By ten o'clock it became necessary to move, on account of the rise
of the water, and as the rain had abated, I picked up and continued