Some men, who had been at work near, gathered about the Emperor and offered to stand by him as long as he wished to remain. Strong shook his head. "W-we got t' g-go," he stammered. He looked sadly at the fallen tree-trunks--at the door-yard, now full of brush. "D-don't never w-want t' s-see this place ag'in," he muttered. He brought the boat-jumper into camp and loaded it. Then with Sinth on the bow seat and Socky and Sue behind her they set out, the men cheering as they moved away. A clear space at the stern afforded room for the Emperor if he should wish to get aboard in crossing water and an axe and paddle were stored on either side of it. Strong had tacked a notice on one of the trees, and it read as follows: S STRONG HAS MOVED TO RAINBOW LAKE The camp was now in the shadow of Long Ridge. Sinth and the Emperor were silent. Bird-songs that rang in the deep, shaded hall of the woods had a note of farewell in them. The children were laughing and chattering as ox and boat-jumper entered the unbroken forest. Zeb stood in front of the children, his forefeet on the gunwale, and seemed to complain of their progress. It was, in a way, historic, that journey of the boat-jumper, that parting of the ancient wood and the last of its children. Their expedition carried about all that was left of the spirit of the pioneer--his ingenuity, his dauntless courage, his undying hope of "better times." The hollow log, with its heart hewn out of it, groaning on its way to the sown land, suggested the fate of the forest. Now, soon, the Lost River country would have roads instead of trails, and its emperor would be a common millionaire. The jumper and the woodsman had had their day. Slowly they pursued their way, skirting thickets and going around fallen trees, and stopping often to clear a passage. Strong followed, gripping the handles that rose well above the stern of his odd craft, and so he served as a rudder and support. An ox is able to go in soft footing, and they struck boldly across a broad swamp nearly three miles down the river shore. It was near sundown when they camped for the night far down the outlet of Catamount Pond. Strong put up a small tent and bottomed it with boughs while Sinth was getting supper ready. Their work done, they sat before the camp-fire and Sinth told tales of the wilderness. Sile sang again "The Story of the Mellered Bear," and also an odd bit of nonsense which was, in part, a relic of old times. The first line of each stanza came out slowly and solemnly while the second ran as fast as he could move his tongue. In his old memorandum-book he referred to it as "The Snaik Song," and it ran as follows: [Illustration: 0298] [Illustration: 0299] Strong whittled as he sang, and soon presented the girl with a straight rod of yellow osier upon which he had carved the brief legend, "Su--her snaik stick." If she held to that, he explained, no snake would be able to swallow her. "I want one, too," said Socky.