said the man, briskly.
"'Tain't more'n a mile furder on."

But first they came to a deserted place, a strip more than half a mile
wide, where the trees had been cut in a broad belt through the swamp.
All Nan could see was sawdust and the stumps of felled trees sticking
out of it. The sawdust, Toby said, was anywhere from two to twenty feet
deep, and there were acres of it.

"They had their mill here, ye kin see the brick work yonder. They hauled
out the lumber by teams past my place. The stea'mill was here more'n
two years. They hauled the sawdust out of the way and dumped it in ev'ry
holler, jest as it come handy."

"What a lot there is of it!" murmured Nan, sniffing doubtfully at the
rather unpleasant odor of the sawdust.

"I wish't 'twas somewhere else," grunted Toby.

"Why-so?"

"Fire git in it and it'd burn till doomsday. Fire in sawdust is a mighty
bad thing. Ye see, even the road here is made of sawdust, four foot or
more deep and packed as solid as a brick walk. That's the way Pale Lick
went, sawdust afire. Ha'f the town was built on sawdust foundation an'
she smouldered for weeks before they knowed of it. Then come erlong a
big wind and started the blaze to the surface."

"Oh!" murmured Nan, much interested. "Didn't my Uncle Henry live there
then?"

"I sh'd say he did," returned Toby, emphatically. "Didn't he never tell
ye about it?"

"No, sir. They never speak of Pale Lick."

"Well, I won't, nuther," grunted old Toby. "'Taint pretty for a young
gal like you to hear about. Whush! Thar goes a loon!"

A big bird had suddenly come into sight, evidently from some nearby
water-hole. It did not fly high and seemed very clumsy, like a duck or
goose.

"Oh! Are they good to eat, Mr. Vanderwiller?" cried Nan. "Rafe brought
in a brace of summer ducks the other day, and they were awfully good,
the way Aunt Kate cooked them."

"Well!" drawled Toby, slyly, "I've hearn tell ye c'd eat a loon, ef
'twas cooked right. But I never tried it."

"How do you cook a loon, Mr. Vanderwiller?" asked Nan, interested in all
culinary pursuits.

"Well, they tell me thet it's some slow process," said the old man,
his eyes twinkling. "Ye git yer loon, pluck an' draw it, let it soak
overnight in vinegar an' water, vitriol vinegar they say is the best.
Then ye put it in the pot an' let it simmer all day."

"Yes?" queried the perfectly innocent Nan.

"Then ye throw off that water," Toby said, soberly, "and ye put on fresh