Lost in the Backwoods | Page 5

make a broom
for sweeping the house, sister of mine, and that is for your use, Miss
Kate, and in the next place, I have to find, if possible, a piece of rock
elm or hickory for axe handles: so now you have the reason why I take
the axe with me."
The children left the clearing and struck into one of the deep defiles
that lay between the hills, and cheerfully they laughed and sung and
chattered, as they sped on their pleasant path, nor were they loath to
exchange the glowing sunshine for the sober gloom of the forest shade.
What handfuls of flowers of all hues, red, blue, yellow, and white, were
gathered, only to be gazed at, carried for a while, then cast aside for
others fresher and fairer. And now they came to cool rills that flowed,
softly murmuring, among mossy limestone, or blocks of red or gray
granite, wending their way beneath twisted roots and fallen trees; and
often Catharine lingered to watch the eddying dimples of the clear
water, to note the tiny bright fragments of quartz or crystallized
limestone that formed a shining pavement below the stream. And often

she paused to watch the angry movements of the red squirrel, as, with
feathery tail erect, and sharp scolding note, he crossed their woodland
path, and swiftly darting up the rugged bark of some neighbouring pine
or hemlock, bade the intruders on his quiet haunts defiance; yet so bold
in his indignation, he scarcely condescended to ascend beyond their
reach. The long-continued, hollow tapping of the large red-headed
woodpecker, or the singular subterranean sound caused by the
drumming of the partridge striking his wings upon his breast to woo his
gentle mate, and the soft whispering note of the little tree-creeper, as it
flitted from one hemlock to another, collecting its food between the
fissures of the bark, were among the few sounds that broke the noontide
stillness of the woods; but to such sights and sounds the lively
Catharine and her cousin were not indifferent. And often they
wondered that Hector gravely pursued his onward way, and seldom
lingered as they did to mark the bright colours of the flowers, or the
sparkling of the forest rill, or the hurrying to and fro of the turkeys
among the luxuriant grass.
"What makes Hec so grave?" said Catharine to her companion, as they
seated themselves upon a mossy trunk to await his coming up; for they
had giddily chased each other till 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 hickory for his axe handles, 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 hickory 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 dinner."
"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 there 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