eighborhood.

By noon, he had collected a goodly quantity of fish, and fearful that
if he delayed his return much longer, his wife would come in search of
him, he proceeded some distance down the bank, and concealed himself
beneath a large clump of bushes, continuing his piscatorial labors as
heretofore. His precaution proved timely and prudent, for he had
hardly ensconsed himself in his new position, when he caught a glimpse
of Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock through the branches, and shrunk
further out of sight. From his secure hiding-place, the valorous
husband watched her proceedings. He saw her brow "throned with
thunder," as she strode hastily forward, the blank, dismayed
expression, as she witnessed the destruction of his favorite perch, the
anxious haste with which she examined the shore to discover whether he
had emerged or not, the relief that lit up her countenance as she
learned the truth, and, at length, the first expression, so boding and
potent in its meaning, that he lay down on the ground and dare not look
at her again. When he cautiously raised his head, she had disappeared,
and with a sigh of relief, he resumed his line.

The slow, weary hours wore on, and finally the sun was half-way down
the horizon. Hans Vanderbum's heart gave a big throb as he started on
his return to the village. In spite of the exciting drama that was now
commencing, and in which he was to play such a prominent part, the most
vivid picture that presented itself to him was his irate wife, waiting
at the wigwam to pounce upon him, and he could not force the dire
consequences of his temerity from his mind.

Slowly and tremblingly he approached the lodge, but saw none of its
inmates. The profound silence filled him with an ominous misgiving.
He paused and listened. Not a breath was audible. He stepped softly
forward and cautiously peered in. He saw Miss Prescott apparently
asleep in one corner, and his wife trimming the fire. Hans hesitated a
moment, and no pen can describe or artist depict the shivering horror
with which he stepped within the lodge. His heart beat like a
trip-hammer, and when his wife lifted her dark eyes upon him, he nearly
fainted from excess of terror. Great was his amazement, therefore,
when, instead of rebukes and blows, she came smilingly forward and
asked:

"Has my husband been sick?"

That question explained everything. Believing him to be sick, her
feelings were not of wrath, but of solic