Don't laugh, Judge, for
me and Crop saw and heard all that I've been describin' to you, and we
felt it too, may be quite as deeply as if we'd been bred in colleges
and stuffed with the larnin' of the books.
"I heard the cry of the painter, the howl of the wolf, and the hoarse
bellow of the moose that night, and Crop crept close alongside of me,
in our bush-shanty, and answered these forest sounds by a low growl,
as if sayin' to himself, that while he'd rayther keep oat of a fight,
yet, if necessary, in defence of his master, he was ready to go in.
Wal, we started on up stream next mornin', passed the second chain of
lakes, and went along up the crooked and windin' course of the stream,
till towards night we came in sight of Mud Lake. That lake is anything
but handsome to my thinkin'; you saw it was gloomy and solemn enough,
situated as it is away up on the top of the mountain, higher than any
other waters I know of in these parts. All about it are fir, and
tamarack, and spruce, the lichens hanging like long grey hair away
down from their stinted branches, while all around low bushes grow,
and moss, sometimes a foot thick, covers the ground. That, Judge, is
the place for black flies and mosquitoes in June. The black flies are
all gone before this time in the summer, but if you'd a taken this
trip the latter part of June, you'd have admitted that I'm tellin' no
lie.
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