After I had
rested awhile, and partaken sparingly of the bread and whisky, which
in such an emergency is a great improvement on bread and water, I
agreed to their proposition that we should make another attempt. As if
to reassure us, a robin sounded his cheery call near by, and the
winter wren, the first I had ever heard in these woods, set his
music-box going, which fairly ran over with fin, gushing, lyrical
sounds. There can be no doubt but this bird is one of our finest
songsters. If it would only thrive and sing well when caged, like the
canary, how far it would surpass that bird! It has all the vivacity
and versatility of the canary, without any of its shrillness. Its song
is indeed a little cascade of melody.
We again retraced our steps, rolling the stone, as it were, back up
the mountain, determined to commit ourselves to the line of marked
trees. These we finally reached, and, after exploring the country to
the right, saw that bearing to the left was still the order. The trail
led up over a gentle rise of ground, and in less than twenty minutes,
we were in the woods I had passed through when I found the lake.
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