The scene was by no means suggestive of pleasant reflections--the less so, since I had ascertained, from my host of yesternight, that the greater portion of Section Number 9 was of just such a character; and that there was scarcely a spot upon it fit for a "homestead," except the one already occupied! "Such an `encumbrance' on my estate," reflected I, "is worse than the _heaviest mortgage_;" and I should have been willing at that moment to part with the timber at a very "low valuation." But I well knew the value of such a commodity. On the Thames or the Mersey, a mine of wealth--on Mud Creek, it would not have been taken as a gift! My spirits fell as I rode forward--partly influenced by the sombre scenes through which I was passing--partly by the natural reaction which ever follows the hour of sweet enjoyment--and partly, no doubt, from some unpleasant presentiments that were once more shaping themselves in my mind. Up to this time, I had scarcely given thought to my errand, or its object. First the gay hues of the morning, and then the romantic incidents of the hour, had occupied my thoughts, and hindered me from dwelling on future plans or purposes. Now, however, that I was coming close to the clearing of the squatter, I began to feel, that I was also _approaching a crisis_. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. A RUDE RESPONSE. An opening of about two acres in extent, of irregular semi-circular shape, with the creek for its chord, and a worm-fence zig-zagging around its arc--scarcely a clearing: since trees bleached and barkless stand thickly over it; a log shanty, with clapboard roof, in the centre of the concavity, flanked on one side by a rude horse-shed, on the other, by a corn-crib of split rails; all three--shed, shanty, and crib--like the tower of Pisa, threatening to tumble down; near the shanty, a wood-pile, with an old axe lying upon the chop-block; by the shed and crib, a litter of white "shucks" and "cobs;" in front, among the stumps and girdled trees, a thin straggle of withered corn-stalks, shorn of their leafy tops--some standing, some trampled down: such was the picture before my eyes, as, with my horse, breast up against the fence, I looked into the clearing of Squatter Holt! "It must be the place--my place? there is no other clearing within a mile? My directions have been given with exact minuteness of detail. I have followed them to the letter: I cannot be mistaken: I have reached Holt's Clearing at last."