he was too small and too quick in
his movements to be fearful. They accepted him as one of themselves,--a
featherless bird, or a squirrel of larger growth; while he, on his part,
smiled vaguely at them and hurried past, intent on his projects for a
house and careless of every thing else.

The sun rose higher and higher. But the thick branching trees kept off
the heat, and the wood remained shady and cool. The paths twisted in and
out, and looped into each other like a tangled riband. No grown person
could have kept a straight course in their mazes. Archie did not even
try, but turned to right or to left just as it happened, taking always
the path which looked prettiest, or which led into deepest shade. If he
saw anywhere a particularly red checkerberry, he went that way;
otherwise it was all one to him where he went. So it came to pass that,
by the end of an hour, he was as delightfully and completely lost as
ever little boy has succeeded in being since woods grew or the world was
made.

"I dess this is a nice place for my house," he said suddenly, as the
path he had been following led into a small open space, across which lay
a fallen tree, with gray moss, which looked like hair, hanging to its
trunk. It _was_ a nice place; also, Archie's feet were tired, and he was
growing hungry, which aided in the decision. The ground about the fallen
tree was carpeted with thick mosses. Some were bright green, with stems
and little branches like tiny, tiny pine-trees. Others had horn-shaped
cups of yellow and fiery red. Others still were bright beautiful brown,
while here and there stood round cushion-shaped masses which looked as
soft as down.

Into the very middle of one of these pretty green cushions plumped
Archie. He rested his back against a tree trunk, and gave a sigh of
comfort. It was like an easy chair, except that it had no arms; but what
does a little boy want of arms to chairs? He put his hand into his
pocket and pulled out, first the red apples, and then the gingerbread.
The gingerbread was rather mashed; but it tasted most delicious, only
there was too little of it.

"I wish I'd brought a hundred more pieces," soliloquized Archie, as he
nibbled the last crumb. "One isn't half enough bekfast."

The red apples, however, proved a consolation; and, quite rested and
refreshed now, he jumped from the moss cushion and prepared to begin his
house-building.

"First, I must pick up some sticks," he thought,--"a great ma