The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-07-02

the reluctant dogs fears were over come and he lay curled in contented, furry heap at Desree's feet in the stern,-Ca1eb bent to his oars with swing that sent the frail guide boat over the mile of intervening lake in time to enter the inlet a bare length behind the Hawardens. Under the low wooden bridge they passed. Then be- gan an cratic progress.
 The sluggish stream wriggles through part of the old government tract once ceded to "Ossawotamie." John Brown of anti-slavery memory. Formerly, green tamaracks lined the lowlands to either side of the inlet's banks. The raising of the dams which, years ago, signed the murder warrant for so many thousand splendid trees. have left the tamaracks here-as elsewhere along the watercourses, waste of feathery gray skeletons.
 A bite of Autumn was in the air. From bush and from waterside, the dying summer flashed its scarlet -and- gold warning of winters dread ap- proach.
 The inlet wound southward in a be- w1ldertng series of turns and twists; ings to the mile- There was hardly scope for three successive oar-strokes between the twists. Fast rowing was out of the question. long stroke or two; for momentum: then the quick backing of an oar and a plunge of the stern paddle; and, unless the bow caught in the jutting huckleberry bushes of the bank. one turn was safe ly passed and another was at hand.
 The gray stone mountains, with their clumps of evergreens shot with the red and yellow of maple or birch, rose against the sky on one side of the marsh. On. the other. the deep forest ran down to the fringe of tamarack ghosts. A rare white birch standing out here and there. like a sheeted giant, amid the dusk of the hemlocks Above blazed the white sun. The long grasses hummed with insect life X A mink darted to cover from beneath the bow of the guide boat. In the black loam of the bank burrowed a sleek gray water rat Far to the northeast a solitary. everlasting landmark for all the region, crouched old Blue Noun tain. like some benevolent haze shrouded mastodon. ''I can't remember" observed De- siree, when we weren't squeezing past one turn and running into another. l And can't imagine any time when we won't still be doing it. It's like one of those weird maze-places at At lantic City where you go through a three others. The man who went for a walk and met himself coming back | would have found himself facing whole l family groups of selves if he'd come up this inlet. There's where the Eighth | Lake Carry begins. Over there to the l left: where that tumble-down wooden dock is. We aren't anywhere near Browns Tract Pond yet. Just hear Jack yodel! He's as excited over this picnic as school boy. He's rowing like mad and
 Guess somebody must a been feed in him meat" suggested Caleb un- kindly; glancing back over his should CTS at the leading boat whose oars mans enthusiasm had driven it's bow into the mudbank at one sharp turn. Say, he's awful much in love with you, Dey. Are you goin' to end pp by marvin him?''
 ''No," said Desiree, shortly
 Ten minutes later the boats had been dragged over the last impasse and the pond was reached:-a circular blot of water amid the surrounding hills; high island rising in it's centre.
 A halloo from J ack brought an am swering call from the distant guide. Slipping along the shore where the yel- low sand ran out for yards under it's two, boats came to rest off the site chosen for the camp. The two tents were already pitched, and a fire crackled merrily. The guide was busy frying eggs and strips of bacon in huge black paEs. Potatoes bubbled in one pot above the fire; while from an- other came the aroma of cqffee. !
 Heaven may be as beautiful as this grove." sighed DeSiree in ecstacy, "but I'm perfectly sure it will never smell ! so deliciously appetizing. I'm starved. Is that drinking-water, Steve?" she asked, pointing to a pail with a dipper beside it.
 Yes ma 'am," replied the guide. ''Or it will be when I've boiled it.''
 I'm too thirsty to wait for it to boil,'' she objected picking up the dip per Wont somebody else have some? Mrs. Hawarden?' ?''
 "'Tisnt healthy to drink water from forest springs till it's been boiled" put in the guide. Its likely to be all chock-full of germs. Boilin' kills em,' he added. proud of his scientific lore.
 (To be Contiu ued.l