total absence of
congenial society in any sense of the word had been felt as a minor
privation. Robert foresaw that when with future years came improved
means and enlarged leisure, this need would be greater. Zack thought
the new settlers ought to try and arrive before spring thaw.

'Yer own logging-bee might be 'bout that time, Robert,' he observed,
while he narrowly watched his kettles and their incipient sugar. 'The
fallow looks ready for burnin', I guess.'

'Yes, 'tis nearly all chopped and piled; but I'm more anxious to have
a raising-bee for my new house. The logging can wait for a couple of
months, Davidson tells me.'

'Wal, you'll want considerable of whisky for the teu,' observed Zack
briskly; 'all the "Corner" 'll be sure to come, an' raise yer house off
the ground right slick at onst. A frame-house, I calc'late?'

'Clapboarded and painted, if I can, Mr. Bunting.'

'Now I don't want ever to hear of no better luck than I had in gittin'
that consignment of ile an' white lead t'other day. Jest the very thing
fur you, I guess!'

Robert did not seem similarly struck by the coincidence.

'Any one but Zack would have melted away long ago over that roaring
fire,' said Arthur some time afterwards, withdrawing from his kettle to
fan himself. 'Being a tall bag of bones, I suppose he can't dissolve
readily. What's he going to do now, I wonder?'

Mr. Bunting had chipped a thin piece of wood from one of the fire logs,
and wrought through it a narrow hole, inch long; this he dipped in the
seething molasses, and drew it forth filled with a thin film, which he
blew out with his breath into a long bubble of some tenacity.

'Thar! 'tis sugared at last,' said he, jerking aside the chip; 'an' now
fur the pans.'

By a remarkable clairvoyance, just at this juncture various younger
members of the Bunting family made their appearance in the sugar-bush;
and as fast as Uncle Zack poured forth the sweet stuff into the tins
and shallow wooden vessels placed to receive it, did half-a-dozen
pilfering hands abstract portions to dip in the snow and devour. Zack's
remonstrances and threats were of no avail, and whenever he made a dash
towards them, they dispersed in all directions 'quick as wink.'

'Ef I ketch you, Ged, you'll know the defference of grabbin' a pound out
of this 'ere tin, I guess, you young varmint!'

''Taint so kinder aisy to catch a 'coon, Uncle Zack,' was the lad's
rejoinder from the fork of a birch where he ha