The sun was just sinking in a flood of glory behind the dark pine-woods
at the head of the lake, when Hector and Louis, who had been carefully
providing fish for the morrow, (which was the Sabbath,) came loaded with
their finny prey carefully strung upon a willow wand, and found Catharine
sleeping in her bower. Louis was loth to break her tranquil slumbers, but
her careful brother reminded him of the danger to which she was exposed,
sleeping in the dew by the water side; "Moreover," he added, "we have some
distance to go, and we have left the precious axe and the birch-bark vessel
in the valley."
These things were too valuable to be lost, and so they roused the sleeper,
and slowly recommenced their toilsome way, following the same path that
they had made in the morning. Fortunately, Hector had taken the precaution
to bend down the flexile branches of the dogwood and break the tops of the
young trees that they had passed between on their route to the lake, and by
this clue they were enabled with tolerable certainty to retrace their way,
nothing doubting of arriving in time at the wigwam of boughs by the rock in
the valley.
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