eak his fast so early in the day. He had, besides, a contrivance
for making coffee and for broiling the fish he expected to catch. Even
if his jaunt lasted till night his physical needs were well provided
for. One would not have imagined, to see his free and easy swing over
the road, that he had anything of greater moment on his mind than to
watch for some stray rabbit, or a possible deer track.

Not less than six miles from his starting point, he came to a small
lake, to reach which he had followed a narrow path that led through the
wood. On the shore was a primitive rowboat, or rather canoe, which he
had purchased on another occasion from a native for an insignificant
price. Into this boat the novelist stepped, and after safely depositing
his traps, took up the paddle and used it skillfully. When he had
reached approximately the centre of the lake, he sat down, prepared his
fishing tackle and began to angle for the denizens of the water below.

With the patience of a true fisherman Roseleaf sat quietly for two
hours, during which time he had drawn out but few specimens. The long
walk had, however, given him the appetite he needed, and he now pulled
his frail craft toward the shore, with the intention of lighting a fire
and preparing a meal. But even when he had nearly reached land he saw
splinters flying beneath his feet, and immediately after heard a dull
sound which showed what had caused the trouble.

A stray bullet, from some careless hunter, had penetrated his canoe. The
hole was large enough to render the boat useless, for the water began to
come in rapidly. With two more stout movements of the paddle Roseleaf
forced his craft against the shore and sprang upon dry land. Then he
quietly picked up the things he had brought with him, and walked a
little away from the scene.

"These fellows are getting altogether too careless," he muttered, as he
inspected his damp belongings. "A little more and that thing would have
been tearing splinters in me."

Scraping some dead wood together, he soon had a fire started, and the
cooking of his breakfast was begun. He went about the work
methodically, whistling again in that low key he had used when on the
way from his hotel, and stopping now and then as the noise of a woodbird
or some wild quadruped of the smaller kind came to his ears. He sniffed
the coffee that was boiling furiously and the freshly caught fish that
sent out an appetizing aroma. No meal served at the Hoffm