aid he; and we started on our mad jaunt.

"Sam, have you a couple of saplings?" inquired Victor of the eldest
negro boy.

"Yes, massa Victor, I got dem ar fixins; but what de lor you gemmen
want wid such tings at de ball?"

"It is too hot in the ball-room," answered Victor; "myself and friend,
therefore, wish to try a waltz on the ice."

"Yah, yah, h-e-a-h!" shouted the negro, wonderfully tickled at the
novelty of the idea, "well, dat is a high kick, please goodness--guess
you can't git any ob de ladies to try dat shine wid you, _h-e-a-h_!"

"We shall not _invite_ them," said Victor, through his teeth.

"Well, dar is de poles, massa," said the negro, handing him a couple
of saplings about twelve feet long. "You better hab a lantern wid you,
too, else you can't see dat dance berry well."

"A good thought," said Victor; "give us the lantern."

[Footnote 2: The Indians cut holes in the ice, and holding a torch
over the opening, spear the salmon-trout which are attracted to the
surface by the blaze.]

It was procured, lighted, and together we descended the steep bluff to
the lake's brink. He paused for a moment to listen--revelry sounded
clearly out upon the air of night, nimble feet were treading gayly to
the strains of sweet music, and high above both, yet mingling with
them, was heard the merry laughter of the joyous guests. Ah, Victor,
thought I, trout are not the only fish captured by brilliant lights;
there is a pair dancing above, yonder, which even now is driving you
to madness. I shrunk from the folly we were about to perpetrate, yet
had not courage enough to dare my companion's sneer, and turn boldly
back; vainly hoping he would soon tire of the exploit I followed on.

Running one pole through the ring of our lantern, and placing
ourselves at each end, we took up our line of march for the light
ahead. Victor seizing the end of the other sapling slid it before him
to feel our way. At times the beacon would blaze up as if but an
hundred yards ahead, and again it would sink to a spark, far away in
the distance. The night wind was now sweeping down the lake in a
tornado, sighing and laboring in its course as if pregnant with
evil--afar off, at one moment, heard in a low whistle, and anon
rushing around us like an army of invisible spirits, bearing us along
with the whirl of their advance, and yelling a fearful war-cry in our
ears. The beacon-light still beckoned us on. My companion, as if
rejoicing in the