nd had to move by inches. After mincing along
half an hour or so, I came where I could feel a bit of clear earth,
and stood there, dancing on my tiptoes, in the dark, to quicken my
blood a little. Presently the damp light of dawn came leaking
through the tree-tops. I heard a rattling stir in the bare limbs
above me. Was it some monster of the woods? Although I have more
courage than most women, it startled me, and I stood still. The
light came clearer; there was a rush toward me that shook the
boughs. I peered upward. It was only a squirrel, now scratching
his ear, as he looked down at me. He braced himself, and seemed to
curse me loudly for a spy, trembling with rage and rushing up and
down the branch above me. Then all the curious, inhospitable folk
of the timber-land came out upon their towers to denounce.

I made my way over the rustling, brittle leaves, and soon found a
trail that led up over high land. I followed it for a matter of
some minutes, and came to the road, taking my left-hand way, as
they told me. There was no traveller in sight. I walked as fast
as I could, passing a village at sunrise, where I asked my way in
French at a smithy. Beyond there was a narrow clearing, stumpy and
rank with briers, on the up-side of the way. Presently, looking
over a level stretch, I could see trees arching the road again,
from under which, as I was looking, a squad of cavalry came out in
the open. It startled me. I began to think I was trapped, I
thought of dodging into the brush. But, no; they had seen me, and
I would be a fool now to turn fugitive. I looked about me. Cows
were feeding near. I picked up a stick and went deliberately into
the bushes, driving one of them to the pike and heading her toward
them. They went by at a gallop, never pulling up while in sight of
me. Then I passed the cow and went on, stopping an hour later at a
lonely log house, where I found French people, and a welcome that
included moose meat, a cup of coffee, and fried potatoes. Leaving,
I rode some miles with a travelling tinker, a voluble, well-meaning
youth who took a liking for me, and went far out of his way to help
me on. He blushed proudly when, stopping to mend a pot for the
cook at a camp of militia, they inquired if I was his wife.

"No; but she may be yet," said he; "who knows?"

I knew it was no good place for me, and felt some relief when the
young man did me this honor. From that moment they set me dow