It was well into the night when the precious embers were covered and the three betook themselves to sleep, with the wind roaring in the woods and the snow driving gustily against the oiled-paper windows of the cabin. When they awoke the storm was spent. Beneath the cloudless morning sky the forest stood silent as the army of spectres that its snow-powdered trunks resembled. After breakfast Job put on his snowshoes and led his guest to the desired road to the southward settlements. This break in the winter monotony was often dwelt upon by the fireside in the little log house. A chance visit, if aught occurs by chance, yet it proved of vast importance. CHAPTER XIII—FOREBODINGS OF STORM After many days of fair promises tardily fulfilled, spring had come. The soft air was full of its sounds and odors, the medley of harsh and liquid notes of the myriad blackbirds that swarmed in the trees along the creek, the crackling croak of the frogs, the whimpering call of the muskrats, the booming of bitterns, the splashing and quacking of wild ducks, and the murmur of running waters. There were the spicy fragrance of pine and hemlock, and the fresh smell of warming mould and bursting buds, while the perfume of wild flowers added a moiety to the spring time odor. The shad trees shone like snowdrifts in the gray woods, and the yellow catkins were alive with humming bees. Amid the pleasant sights of nature’s progress, Nathan and his friend sat near the door, taking off and stretching on pliant bows the skins of the last catch of muskrats. “It’s about time to quit trappin’ for this year,” said Job, as he slipped a skin onto the bow that he held between his knees. “They’re gettin’ a leetle off prime, though better’n they be in the fall an’ no kits as there is then,” and he fastened the skin in place, with a cut near its edge, into each horn of the bow. “Good land! What’s Gabe hullabalooin’ at now, I wonder?” Nathan peered cautiously around the corner and whispered: “It’s neighbor Newton. I’ll go up loft.” Accordingly he climbed the ladder and crept softly to the side of the loft above the door. Through the wide cracks of the loose flooring he could see a patch of the chip strewn, sunlit earth outside, with Job’s long legs stretching across it and his hands idle a moment as he called in the hound, who presently appeared, and behind him the stout stockinged legs of neighbor Newton. “Job, have you heard the news?” Newton asked excitedly. “News? What news?” Job’s knife stopped half-way in the slit it was making along a muskrat’s throat. “There’s ben a fight down in the Bay Colony ’twixt our folks and the king’s troops and our folks whipped ’em.” “Our folks a fightin’ the king’s troops?” said Job incredulously. The other hastily related such particulars of the momentous conflict as he had learned. Nathan, whose heart was beating fast at the stirring news, saw the muskrat drop to the ground.