This proposal meeting the ready approval of the young man, the two took their rifles, and proceeded to the foot of the eminence in question, which they found to be a steep, conical hill, rising abruptly three or four hundred feet above the general level of the surrounding forest, with a small, pointed apex, from which some tornado had hurled every standing tree except a tall, slender green pine, that shot up eighty or ninety feet, as straight as a flagstaff, from the centre. After a severe scramble up the steeps, in some places almost perpendicular, they at length reached the summit, and commenced leisurely walking round the verge, looking down on the variegated wilderness, which, with its thousand dotted hills and undulating ridges, lay stretched in cold solitude around them. With only a general glance, however, over the surrounding forests, the gaze of the hunter was anxiously lifted upwards, to study the omens of the heavens. The sun, by this time, was scarcely visible beneath the cold, lurid haze which had for some hours been gradually stealing over it; while around the horizon lay piled long, motionless banks of leaden clouds, thick and heavy enough evidently to be dark, but yet of that light, dead, glazed, uncertain hue, which the close observer may have often noted as the precursor of winter-storms. After a long and attentive survey of every visible part of the heavens, the hunter, with an ominous shake of the head, dropped his eyes to the ground, and said: “I was right, but didn’t want to believe it when I got up this morning; and the wild geese are right. We are on the eve of winter, and our best hope is that it may come gently. But even that favor, I greatly fear, we shall not be permitted to realize.” “Well, sir, with that view of the case, in which I am inclined to concur, what do you propose now?” asked Claud. “Why, I propose, seeing we have all the fur pelts we took from the traps yesterday put up in packs, and have left nothing in our upper camp of any consequence,--I propose, that, instead of going back to our nearest marked line, as we talked of, we strike directly across the woods, by the nearest route, to our lake camp; or, if you are willing to put up with two or three miles additional travel, we will steer so as to take the upper camp of your father and Carvil in our way. We might find them there, perhaps.” “Then let us steer for their camp; I can stand the jaunt. But can you determine the direction to be taken to strike it?” “Nearly, I think. Their camp, you know, is on the neck or connecting piece of river, between two long ponds, lying about southwest of us. I rather expected to be able to get a glimpse of one of those ponds from the hilltop, but find I can’t. I presume I could, however, from the top of this pine tree.” “Yes, but to climb it would be a long, and perhaps dangerous task, would it not?”