me to his
father's hut, where the eight children were rubbing their eyes and Zitza
crying for her breakfast. No one knew that Mihal had been farther than
the door-sill, nor did he tell the clamorous brood of children what he
had seen, lest they should mock it as a dream, or attempt the pursuit
themselves.

So he went patiently about his work, helped them look for Meister Hans,
whom all mourned for many a day,--excepting Mihal, who well knew how
much better off the jackdaw was than in any of the pitiful conditions
they fancied, and the parents, who were too thankful to gain even the
bird's small share of bread for their wasted and fretful children.

But after nightfall Mihal crept softly from his straw in the corner,
tied a sheep-skin across his shoulders, and, with his uneaten supper, a
crust of black bread, in the bosom of his ragged shirt, stole softly out
of the door to seek his fortune. About two miles from the hut there was
a clear space in the pine forest, where there stood a great stone cross,
at the foot of which a tiny spring slept in the grass, and overflowed
softly on the crisp turf at all seasons. At this place Mihal resolved to
wait for the flight of the red-winged goose, and he knew the forest
paths so well that a short half-hour brought him to the open glade. He
knelt and bathed his face in the spring, drank deeply of its pure and
tranquil waters, and then leaned back against the foot of the cross to
eat his crust and wait till moon-rise. Overhead the dark blue sky seemed
to be higher than ever, and the bright stars sparkled so kindly, and
looked so much like watchful eyes to guard and bless him, that Mihal
felt no fear, but gazed upward into the quiet depths of air so long that
he fell fast asleep and dreamed about the Dwarf-king's hill-palace.

_Rose Terry._

(_To be continued._)

AFLOAT IN THE FOREST:

OR, A VOYAGE AMONG THE TREE-TOPS.

CHAPTER VI.

THE MONKEY-POTS.

"The Gapo?" exclaimed the master of the craft. "What is it, Munday?"

"The Gapo?" repeated Tipperary Tom, fancying by the troubled expression
on the face of the Indian that he had conducted his companions toward
some terrible disaster. "Phwat is it, Munday?"

"Da Gapoo?" simultaneously interrogated the negro, the whites of his
eyeballs shining in the moonlight. "What be dat?"

The Mundurucu made reply only by a wave of his hand, and a glance ar