Forests of Maine Part 16

"This is a beautiful piece of pine," said Forester.

"Let us carry some of it home," rejoined Marco.

"What good would it do us?" asked Forester.

"Why, we might make something of it," said Marco. "Perhaps I could make a little box."

"And that would serve as a _souvenir_ of this expedition," added Forester.

"A souvenir?" said Marco,--"what is that?"

"Why, something to remember it by," replied Forester. "Hereafter, whenever you should see the box, you would be reminded of our wanderings and perils in this wilderness."

"Well," said Marco, "let us take it."

The farther conversation of our adventurers was interrupted by a sound, like that of wagon wheels, coming along the main road, which they had just left.

"There comes some traveller," exclaimed Forester. "Let us go and enquire about our way."

"Hark!" said Marco.

At this instant, the sound of the wheels suddenly stopped, and Marco and Forester heard the voice of a man calling out earnestly to his horse, "Whoa! whoa!" as if something had happened. Marco and Forester hastened to the spot, where they found that the horse had fallen down, and the man was trying in vain to get him up. The harness was drawn so tight about the horse's limbs, by the constrained position in which he was lying, that he could not get up, and the man could not extricate him.

The man had gone behind, and had drawn the wagon back, so as to loosen the pressure of the harness upon the horse, but, until Forester and Marco came, there was no one to unbuckle the straps when they were thus loosened; and, if the man let go of the wagon, to go and unbuckle the harness, it was drawn back again at once by the tension of the straps, and made as tight as before.

He was, therefore, very glad to see Forester and Marco coming. He asked them to come and help him.

Forester and Marco were immediately going to attempt to unbuckle the harness, but the man told them that there was danger of their getting kicked by the horse, in case he should suddenly begin to struggle.

"Come here," said the man, "and hold the wagon back and I will loosen the harness."

By means of this plan of operations, the horse was soon liberated from his confinement, and he got up. The man seemed very thankful to Forester and Marco, and he asked them where they were going.

"We are going to No. 3," said Forester. "Is this the right way?"

The townships in a new country are _numbered_ at first, not named. The place to which Marco and Forester were going had yet very few inhabitants, and it had no name but No. 3.

"Yes," replied the man, "this is the right road. I wish I was going that way, I would take you along in my wagon."

This answer puzzled Marco a little, on two accounts. First, the man _was_ going the same way with them, but then Marco thought that, perhaps, he was going to turn off, pretty soon, into some other road.

Then, secondly, he did not see how the man could possibly carry him and Forester, in any event, as the wagon seemed completely filled with bags, and kegs, and firkins, leaving scarcely room for the man himself to sit.

Forester told the man that they could walk very well; but he said that they were hungry, and if the man had anything to eat, in his wagon, they should be glad to buy something of him.

"Yes," replied the man, "I've a loaf of bread that I can spare, and a jug of milk."

"That will be just the thing," said Marco.

At first, the man was not willing to receive anything for the bread and milk, but as Forester insisted upon it, he consented to take a little pay. He then told Forester that he had some honey in his wagon, and a few apples, and Forester bought a supply of these. At first, they thought they should not have anything to put the honey in, but Marco ran to the shingle weaver's hut, and got one of the thin pieces which had been split out for shingles, and it made a very good plate. Forester bought a pound of the honey, and half a dozen apples.

They then bade the man good-by, and he resumed his journey. Forester and Marco went back to the hut, where they had a most excellent dinner. They built a fire, and roasted the apples and toasted the bread. They cut it into slices with Marco's knife. They made wooden spoons for the honey out of pieces of pine, which answered very well indeed. Marco said it was the very best dinner he ever ate in his life.

After dinner, they returned to the main road, and resumed their walk.

Forester said he wished he had asked the man how far it was to No. 3, but he thought it could not be very far, as they had been travelling nearly three hours, and it was only about ten miles in the morning.

As he was saying this, they were just ascending a hill, and when they reached the top of it, they had a prospect of the road for a considerable distance before them. Marco thought he saw something coming, and he asked Forester what it was.

"I think it is only a stump, or something like that," said Forester.

"No, it moves," said Marco.

"It is another wagon," said Forester, "I really believe. Now we can find out how far it is to No. 3."

It was very soon quite evident that it was a wagon, and that it was coming on apace. As it drew nearer, it appeared that there was a boy in it.

"He is just about as big as Isaiah," said Marco.

"Yes," said Forester. "And the horse looks very much like the horse Isaiah had."

"I verily believe it is Isaiah," said Marco.

This supposition was confirmed as the wagon drew near. The boy was Isaiah, but he stared at Marco and Forester with a look of perplexity and wonder, as if he was very much surprised to see them.

"Isaiah!" said Marco, accosting him, as soon as Isaiah drew up the reins and stopped the horse opposite to them.

"What are you coming back for?" asked Isaiah.

"Coming back!" repeated Forester, not knowing exactly what Isaiah meant.

"Yes," said Isaiah. "I thought you were going to stay at No. 3, and I was going to carry your trunk there."

It immediately flashed upon Forester's mind that they had got turned about in their wanderings, and, instead of going on towards No. 3, as they supposed, they were in reality, though in the right road, going the wrong way in it.

Forester had a hearty laugh at this discovery, in which Marco joined, as soon as he fairly understood the case. At first, he was very much perplexed. He could not believe that they could have got their ideas of direction so completely reversed.

"Besides," said he, "that man told us that we were in the right way."

"Yes," said Forester, "but he did not tell us that we were _going right_ in it."

"I suppose he did not know which way we were going," said Marco.

The question then arose, what was to be done. Forester proposed that they should get into the wagon and let Isaiah drive them to No. 3, but Marco said that he was commander, and he was not going to try to get to No. 3 any more. He had been travelling back and forth through those woods long enough, and he declared that he would not vote to go through them again, if he had to go round the world to get to the other side of them.

Forester laughed and submitted to the decision; so they all returned to Isaiah's father's.

The next morning they formed a different plan for pursuing their journey. They wanted to get to the Quebec road now, as soon as possible, and they found, by enquiry, that, by taking a boat upon a large pond or lake, a few miles distant, they could go about twenty miles by water, through a chain of ponds, which led in the direction in which they wished to go.

So Forester hired a man to go with them and bring back the boat. They went, in a wagon, to a place very near the landing, at the pond. The landing was in a small cove, surrounded by forests. The cove opened out into the pond by two points of land, rocky and precipitous, and crowned with evergreen trees. The water was smooth, and the whole scene highly picturesque. When Marco came in sight of it, he was much pleased with the prospect of a voyage on such a sheet of water.

There was considerable water in the boat when the party arrived on the beach, and Forester undertook to bail it out. The man who was going with them went and cut a bush, with a thick top, to use as a sail, in case there should be a fair wind. While he was bringing the bush, and Forester was bailing out the boat, Marco stood upon the beach, looking at the paddles.