on. It was only a little stretch of woodland, where the
neglected underbrush had grown into a tangled thicket. No one remembered
now what had given rise to the name, and no one living had ever seen the
ghostly white ganders that were said to haunt the place at night. Still,
the story was handed down from one to another, and the place was shunned
as much as possible.

Brier Crook church stood at one end, with its desolate little graveyard,
where the colored people buried their dead under its weeping willows and
gloomy cedars.

John Jay avoided the lonely road that led in that direction, and took
the one that wound around the other end of the thicket, past a deserted
mill. Yet, when he reached the ruined old building, with its staring
windows and sunken roof, he was half sorry that he had not gone the
other way.

The berries were on the far side of the thicket, and he was obliged to
pass either the graveyard or the old mill to reach them. The possibility
of plunging boldly into the thicket and pushing his way through to the
other side had never occurred to him, although it is doubtful if he
would have dared to do so even had he thought of it. He ran down the dry
bed of the stream, and past the silent moss-grown wheel, breathing a
sigh of relief when he came out into an open field beyond.

Balancing himself on the top rail of the fence, he looked cautiously
along the edge of the thicket. It did not look so dismal in there, after
all. A woodpecker's cheerful tapping sounded somewhere within.
Butterflies flitted fearlessly down into its shady ravines. A squirrel
ran out on a limb, and sat chattering at him saucily. Then a big gray
rabbit rustled through the leaves, and went loping away into the depths
of the thicket.

"I don't believe there's anything skeery in there at all!" exclaimed
John Jay aloud. After starting several times, and stopping to look all
around and listen, he followed the rabbit into the bushes. Plunging down
a narrow cow-path which wound in and out, he came to an open space where
a few trees had fallen. Here, with an exclamation of delight, he pounced
upon the finest, largest berries he had ever seen. They dropped into the
tin pail with a noisy thud at first, and then with scarcely a sound, as
they rapidly piled higher and higher.

Both pails were filled in a much shorter time than usual, and then he
sat down on a wide log to enjoy the lunch he had brought with him. There
were two big slices of brea