hink; but in another instant he reminded himself.
This was not an awful apparition, but a real thing, wondrous and
unaccountable enough in its reality. It was Anvil Rock--a great,
solitary rock--rising abruptly from the reckless loam of a level
country, and lifting its single peak, rudely shaped like a blacksmith's
anvil, straight up toward the clouds. It was already serving as a
landmark in the wilderness, and must continue so to serve all that
portion of Kentucky, so long as the levelling hand of man may be
withheld from one of the natural wonders of the world.

Beyond Anvil Rock the night grew blacker. When David reached the buffalo
track he could no longer see even dimly, the forest closing densely in
on both sides of the narrow path, and arching darkly overhead.
Instinctively he put up his hand again and touched the money in his
breast pocket. His grasp on the rifle unconsciously grew firmer, but he
loosed the bridle-rein for a moment to pat the pony. The little beast
entered the shadows of the trees without a tremor; yet there were
dangers therein for him no less than for his rider, and his excited
breathing told that he knew this quite as well as his master. It was so
dark that neither could see the path, and the boy was trusting more to
the pony than to himself, as they went swiftly forward through the still
darkness of the forest. The pony's unshod feet made scarcely a sound on
the soft, moist earth. There had been no frost to thin the thick
branches hanging low over their heads. The few leaves which had drifted
down were still unwithered, and only made the hoof-beats more soundless
on the yielding earth, so that there was not a rustle at the noiseless
passing of the pony and his rider. Only a sudden gust of wind now and
then sent a murmur through the dark tree-tops and gently swayed the
sombre boughs. And so they sped on, drawing nearer and nearer to the
Wilderness Road, till presently the wind brought the strong odor of
boiling salt water. The woods became now still further darkened and
entangled by many fallen trees which had been felled to make fuel for
the furnaces, and by huge heaps of logs piled ready for burning. Here
and there were great whitening giants of the forest still standing
after they had been slain, as soldiers--death-stricken--stand for an
instant on the field of battle. It seemed to the fanciful boy that the
wind sighed most mournfully among these wan ghosts of trees, and that
the dead boug