pressed to pay for his entertainment by giving us a Cherokee
war-song, which he did with much fire and spirit. We sat long into the
night talking of the past and of the future, and of the great things we
were going to accomplish. Nor did we forget to draft a letter of most
hearty thanks to Mr. Franklin, which was sent him, together with many
others, among them one from Sir Peter Halket himself.

The arrival of the wagons had done much to solve the problem of
transport, and on the next day preparations for the advance began in
earnest. The whole force of carpenters was put to work building a bridge
across the creek, the smiths sharpened the axes, and the bakers baked a
prodigious number of little biscuits for us to carry on the march. Two
hundred pioneers were sent out to cut the road, and from one end of the
camp to the other was the stir of preparation.

So two days passed, and on the afternoon of the twenty-fourth, Spiltdorph
and myself crossed the creek on the bridge, which was well-nigh
completed, and walked on into the forest to see what progress the
pioneers were making. We each took a firelock with us in hope of knocking
over some game for supper, to help out our dwindling larder. We found
that the pioneers had cut a road twelve feet wide some two miles into the
forest. It was a mere tunnel between the trees, whose branches overtopped
it with a roof of green, but it had been leveled with great care,--more
care than I thought necessary,--and would give smooth going to the wagons
and artillery. We reached the end of the road, where the axemen were
laboring faithfully, and after watching them for a time, were turning
back to camp, when Spiltdorph called my attention to the peculiar
appearance of the ground about us. We were in the midst of a grove of
chestnuts, and the leaves beneath them for rods around had been turned
over and the earth freshly raked up.

"What under heaven could have caused that?" asked Spiltdorph.

"Wild turkeys," I answered quickly, for I had often seen the like under
beeches and oaks as well as chestnuts. "Come on," I added, "perhaps they
are not far away."

"All right," said Spiltdorph, "a wild turkey would go exceeding well on
our table;" and he followed me into the forest. The turkeys had evidently
been frightened away by the approach of the pioneers, and had stopped
here and there to hunt for food, so that their track was easily followed.
I judged they could not be far away, and was l