“What, Louis, after the fur was all singed?” said Catharine.
“Kate, you are too particular,” said Louis; “a story never loses, you know.”
Hector laughed heartily at the adventure, and enjoyed the dilemma of the bear in his winter quarter; but Catharine was somewhat shocked at the levity displayed by her cousin and brother, when recounting the terror of old Jacob and the sufferings of the poor bear.
“You boys are always so unfeeling,” she said, gravely.
“Indeed, Kate,” said her brother, “the day may come when the sight of a good piece of roast bear’s flesh, will be no unwelcome sight. If we do not find our way back to Cold Springs before the winter sets in, we may be reduced to as bad a state as poor Jacob and my uncle were in the pine swamps, on the banks of the St. John.”
“Ah!” said Catharine, trembling, “that would be too bad to happen.”
“Courage, ma belle, let us not despair for the morrow. Let us see what to-morrow will do for us; meantime, we will not neglect the blessings we still possess; see, our partridge is ready, let us eat our supper, and be thankful; and for grace let us say, ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’”
Long exposure to the air had sharpened their appetites--the hungry wanderers needed no further invitation, the scanty meal, equally divided, was soon despatched.
It is a common saying, but excellent to be remembered by any wanderers in our forest wilds, that those who travel by the sun travel in a circle, and usually find themselves at night in the same place from whence they started in the morning; so it was with our wanderers. At sunset, they found themselves once more in the ravine, beside the big stone, in which they had rested at noon. They had imagined themselves miles and miles distant from it; they were grievously disappointed. They had encouraged each other with the confident hope that they were drawing near to the end of their bewildering journey; they were as far from their home as ever, without the slightest clue to guide them to the right path. Despair is not a feeling which takes deep root in the youthful breast. The young are always hopeful; so confident in their own wisdom and skill in averting or conquering danger; so trusting; so willing to believe that there is a peculiar Providence watching over them. Poor children! they had indeed need of such a belief to strengthen their minds and encourage them to fresh exertions, for new trials were at hand.