they had far outrun him.

"Hector, sweet coz, is thinking perhaps of how many bushels of corn or
wheat this land would grow if cleared, or he may be examining the soil
or the trees, or is looking for his stick of blue-beech for your broom,
or the hiccory for his axe handle, and never heeding such nonsense as
woodpeckers and squirrels, and lilies and moss and ferns, for Hector is
not a giddy thing like his cousin Louis, or--"

"His sister Kate," interrupted Catharine, merrily; "but when shall we
come to the Beaver Meadow?"

"Patience, ma belle, all in good time. Hark, was not that the ox-bell?
No; Hector whistling." And soon they heard the heavy stroke of his
axe ringing among the trees, for he had found the blue-beech, and was
cutting it to leave on the path, that he might take it home on their
return; he had also marked some hiccory of a nice size for his axe
handles, to bring home at some future time.

The children had walked several miles, and were not sorry to sit down
and rest till Hector joined them. He was well pleased with his success,
and declared he felt no fatigue. "As soon as we reach the old Indian
clearing, we shall find strawberries," he said, "and a fresh cold
spring, and then we will have our dinners."

"Come, Hector,--come, Louis," said Catharine, jumping up, "I long to
be gathering the strawberries; and see, my flowers are faded, so I
will throw them away, and the basket shall be filled with fresh fruit
instead, and we must not forget petite Marie and sick Louise, or dear
Mathilde. Ah, how I wish she were here at this minute! But here is the
opening to the Beaver Meadow."

And the sunlight was seen streaming through the opening trees as they
approached the cleared space, which some called the "Indian clearing,"
but is now more generally known as the little Beaver Meadow. It was
a pleasant spot, green, and surrounded with light bowery trees and
flowering shrubs, of a different growth from those that belong to the
dense forest. Here the children found, on the hilly ground above, fine
ripe strawberries, the earliest they had seen that year, and soon all
weariness was forgotten while pursuing the delightful occupation of
gathering the tempting fruit; and when they had refreshed themselves,
and filled the basket with leaves and fruit, they slaked their thirst
from the stream, which wound its way among the bushes. Catharine
neglected not to reach down flowery bunches of the fragrant white-thorn
and