When at last we had helped Sam home, night was at hand; and although we went to all the neighbors, we could not collect enough powder-post to dress the cut. Several people said, however, that plenty of it could be obtained at the old Plancher barn, for the braces of that barn had been made of cleft red oak, and were "all powder-posted." But the Plancher barn was four miles distant, in the clearing in the "great woods." A settler bearing the name had cleared a farm there forty years before, and had lived there for over twenty years. Ill fortune beset him, however. His children died, his house burned on a winter night, and he moved away in discouragement, abandoning the property. The clearing was known to all the boys of the locality as a favorite haunt of foxes. The next morning Sam's younger brother, John, Willis Murch and I went up to the old barn to get powder-post. John had a small axe with which to split the timbers, four old newspapers in which to gather up the precious dust, and a bottle in which to put it. It was Thanksgiving morning. The sun rose in a clear, straw-colored sky. It was cold; the ground was frozen, and there was skating on the small ponds. Red squirrels were scolding on the borders of the wood-lots, and blue jays came squalling into the orchards. "This is a weather-breeder," grandmother remarked at breakfast. Low down on the southern horizon, scarcely visible above the hilltops, was a line of slate-gray cloud. Willis and I were not sorry of an excuse for a jaunt through the woods, for Willis owned a gun--an old army rifle bored out smooth for shot. Our only anxiety was to get back in good season for dinner. Thanksgiving dinner was always at three o'clock. We set off immediately after breakfast. There was no need for haste on Sam's account, for John told us that the cut foot was no longer very painful, and Sam had slept well. The distance was about four miles, but there was neither road nor path through the forest. It was a good time for hunting, for the swamps were frozen and the foliage was off the trees. The leaves were sodden, and no longer rustled underfoot. Red and gray squirrels scampered across our path, but Willis disdained to fire at them. He was loaded for deer; besides he had but three extra charges. Powder and shot were usually scarce with us. At length we heard a deer run, and followed it for an hour or more. Then John espied a hedgehog in a poplar-tree, and Willis shot it. The long black-pointed quills were a curiosity to us, but we did not deem such game worth carrying home. It was near noon when we reached the clearing, and the sky had become overcast, but as we crossed the Plancher brook a new diversion presented itself. The pools were frozen over, but the ice was so transparent that the bottom was plainly visible, and we could see trout lying sluggishly in the deep water. Several of them were fine fish, that looked as if they might weigh a pound or more.