d dark, all
that was wonderful and unknown, spread out before us, and as we crawled
along that slippery, slanting road, it seemed that we were entering on a
new and marvellous world.

We lodged that night in Hokah, a little town in a deep valley. The
tavern stood near a river which flowed over its dam with resounding roar
and to its sound I slept. Next day at noon we reached Caledonia, a town
high on the snowy prairie. Caledonia! For years that word was a poem in
my ear, part of a marvellous and epic march. Actually it consisted of a
few frame houses and a grocery store. But no matter. Its name shall ring
like a peal of bells in this book.

It grew colder as we rose, and that night, the night of the second day,
we reached Hesper and entered a long stretch of woods, and at last
turned in towards a friendly light shining from a low house beneath a
splendid oak.

As we drew near my father raised a signal shout, "Hallo-o-o the House!"
and a man in a long gray coat came out. "Is that thee, friend Richard?"
he called, and my father replied, "Yea, neighbor Barley, here we are!"

I do not know how this stranger whose manner of speech was so peculiar,
came to be there, but he was and in answer to my question, father
replied, "Barley is a Quaker," an answer which explained nothing at that
time. Being too sleepy to pursue the matter, or to remark upon anything
connected with the exterior, I dumbly followed Harriet into the kitchen
which was still in possession of good Mrs. Barley.

Having filled our stomachs with warm food mother put us to bed, and when
we awoke late the next day the Barleys were gone, our own stove was in
its place, and our faithful clock was ticking calmly on the shelf. So
far as we knew, mother was again at home and entirely content.

This farm, which was situated two miles west of the village of Hesper,
immediately won our love. It was a glorious place for boys. Broad-armed
white oaks stood about the yard, and to the east and north a deep forest
invited to exploration. The house was of logs and for that reason was
much more attractive to us than to our mother. It was, I suspect, both
dark and cold. I know the roof was poor, for one morning I awoke to find
a miniature peak of snow on the floor at my bedside. It was only a rude
little frontier cabin, but it was perfectly satisfactory to me.

Harriet and I learned much in the way of woodcraft during the months
which followed. Night by night the rabbits, in