Louis had gone out to fish at the lake one autumn morning. During his
absence, a sudden squall of wind came on, accompanied with heavy rain.
As he stayed longer than usual, Hector began to feel uneasy, lest some
accident had befallen him, knowing his adventurous spirit, and that he had
for some days previous been busy constructing a raft of cedar logs,
which he had fastened together with wooden pins. This raft he had nearly
finished, and was even talking of adventuring over to the nearest island to
explore it, and see what game, and roots, and fruits it afforded.
Bidding Catharine stay quietly within-doors till his return, Hector ran
off, not without some misgivings of evil having befallen his rash cousin,
which fears he carefully concealed from his sister, as he did not wish
to make her needlessly anxious. When he reached the shore, his mind was
somewhat relieved by seeing the raft on the beach, just as it had been left
the night before, but neither Louis nor the axe was to be seen, nor the
fishing-rod and line.
"Perhaps," thought he, "Louis has gone further down to the mouth of the
little creek, in the flat east of this, where we caught our last fish: or
maybe he has gone up to the old place at Pine-tree Point.
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