Such a common circumstance elicited no surprise, of course. It was no more than might have been expected. The wind had changed, and the fog of the Bay of Fundy had rushed over Blomidon, and they, in those dim woods, were now enveloped in its folds. Nor was it so much a matter of regret to them as it might have been under other circumstances. Here in the woods it made but little difference in their situation. Even if the sun were shining brightly overhead, the ground beneath would be just as swampy, the fallen trees as troublesome, the underbrush as thick. Whatever were the doctors own private feelings, he kept them to himself, and surveyed the scene in silence. At length he made up his mind as to his course, and once more started for his onward journey. The journey was the same as before. Sometimes a great growth of underbrush would impede their progress, and that underbrush would vary from the tall, slender stems of the young maples to the dense and prickly spines of the young spruces. At other times the trees would stand apart, the scene would expand, and they would be encircled by a dense array of forest columns, between which the view was lost in shadow and gloom. Sometimes they plunged into swamps, unawares; at other times they tore their way through ferns and trailing plants; again they were compelled to climb over fallen trees, or crawl under them. Once they came to a place which was quite bare of trees, but overgrown with fire weed and blueberries. Such places as these were known to them by the name of “Barrens,” and on this occasion they made use of it to take a long rest. The doctor again looked all around him thoughtfully, and appeared buried in profound reflection. It was here that a thought flashed to the minds of all the boys. It was this. The doctor hadn’t the least idea where he was! The moment that thought arose, every act of the doctor’s confirmed it. His silence was a very remarkable thing. Usually he was genial and lively; and such was his flow of spirits, that he could always throw an air of joyousness around an occasion like this. Usually he was full of pleasant and encouraging words. He had, by nature, a rare aptitude for winning the affection and confidence of boys by throwing himself into their feelings. With all his attainments, he had in him much of that fresh, brave, frank, joyous, hilarious temper which we call “boyish;” and his own free and frank nature, his generous enthusiasm, his disdain for all that was base, his exultation in all that was noble and pure, all combined to win the reverential affection of “his boys,” as he called them.