e deep
forest on the Chateaugay trail. . . .

They had read a little book called _The Country of the Sangamon_. The
latter was a word of the Pottawatomies meaning "land of plenty." It was
the name of a river in Illinois draining "boundless, flowery meadows of
unexampled beauty and fertility, belted with timber, blessed with shady
groves, covered with game and mostly level, without a stick or a stone
to vex the plowman." Thither they were bound to take up a section of
government land.

They stopped for a visit with Elisha Howard and his wife, old friends of
theirs, who lived in the village of Malone, which was in Franklin
County, New York. There they traded their oxen for a team of horses.
They were large gray horses named Pete and Colonel. The latter was fat
and good-natured. His chief interest in life was food. Pete was always
looking for food and perils. Colonel was the near horse. Now and then
Samson threw a sheepskin over his back and put the boy on it and tramped
along within arm's reach of Joe's left leg. This was a great delight to
the little lad.

They proceeded at a better pace to the Black River country, toward
which, in the village of Canton, they tarried again for a visit with
Captain Moody and Silas Wright, both of whom had taught school in the
town of Vergennes.

They proceeded through DeKalb, Richville and Gouverneur and Antwerp and
on to the Sand Plains. They had gone far out of their way for a look at
these old friends of theirs.

Every day the children would ask many questions, as they rode along,
mainly about the beasts and birds in the dark shadows of the forest
through which they passed. These were answered patiently by their father
and mother and every answer led to other queries.

"You're a funny pair," said their father one day. "You have to turn over
every word we say to see what's under it. I used to be just like ye,
used to go out in the lot and tip over every stick and stone I could
lift to see the bugs and crickets run. You're always hopin' to see a
bear or a panther or a fairy run out from under my remarks."

"Wonder why we don't see no bears?" Joe asked.

"'Cause they always see us first or hear us comin'," said his father.
"If you're goin' to see ol' Uncle Bear ye got to pay the price of
admission."

"What's that?" Joe asked.

"Got to go still and careful so you'll see him first. If this old wagon
didn't talk so loud and would kind o' go on its tiptoes maybe we'd see
him. He