The idea of going back occurred, but it was at once dismissed. To go back would be very fatiguing, and would be of no particular use. For, if they did get another guide, he might turn out as badly as the one whom they had lost; and besides, their experience with Sam disgusted them with guides and with Indians altogether. “If I only had a compass,” said Bart, “we’d be all right, for we could at least be able to choose some direction, and have some idea of where we went. But, as it is, we shall have to wander at random.” “Sure and that’s the very best way there is to wandhcr, so it is,” said Pat. “It’s a mighty sight better to go sthrollin along as you like than it is to be taggin afther a big drunken Injin, any day.” “Yes,” said Phil, “that’s the best way. Let’s go strolling along, fishing at every brook we come to, and enjoy ourselves. We can make camps, and if we come to any pleasanter place than usual, we can stay there for two or three days. Why, this is the very best way of enjoying ourselves. I’m sure I couldn’t imagine anything more glorious.” “I wonder if there are any fish up that little brook,” said Bart. “Sure an we’d betther try.” “One of us had better stay behind with Solomon,” said Bart. “I’ll stay,” said Phil; “I’ll get some sticks and build the fire again, and if you do get any fish, we’ll be able to have some for breakfast.” Upon this, Bart and Pat prepared their rods, and lines, and went off up the brook. It was not very large, but it had the general appearance of a good trouting stream; and the appearance did not deceive them, for after a short time, to their great joy, they succeeded in hooking ten or a dozen very respectable trout, with which they returned to the “encampment.” Here they found a brisk fire, beside which Phil was sitting awaiting their return. As they reached the place, Solomon awoke from his nap, and joined them at the fire. Then followed breakfast, which consisted of broiled trout, and, as they had brought plenty of salt and pepper in their baskets, there was no lack of relish, and the fish was pronounced delicious. After breakfast, they once more noticed the appearance of the sky. It had still that dull, sickly, yellowish hue which had first struck Bart’s attention. Although the day had advanced since then, the sky had not changed, and there was no increase of light. “It’s smoke,” said Bart. “I wonder what’s the cause of it.” “De woods are burnin,” said Solomon. “I wonder if it is anywhere near,” said Phil. “O, no!” said Bart; “it’s some distant fire or other. Perhaps they’re clearing land.” “Dar’s alius smoke a floatin about d’ese times in de woods,” said Solomon. “Dey keep a clearin an a choppin--no end.” “Sure an it’s all the betther fer us,” said Pat, “for an overcast sky is the thing for the throut; an sure they niver know the difference whither it’s smoke or clouds, so they don’t, an they bite all the same, so they do.”