turning back.

Henry made a shrewd guess as to whither the path led, but he
inferred from the appearance of the stepping stones-chiefly from
the fact that an odd one here and there had sunk completely out
of sight-that they had not been used in a long time, perhaps for
years. He found on the other side of the islet a second line of
stones, and they led across a marsh, that was almost like a black
liquid, to another and larger island.

Here the ground was quite firm, supporting a thick growth of
large trees. It seemed to Henry that this island might be
seventy or eighty yards across, and he began at once to explore
it. In the center, surrounded so closely by swamp oaks that they
almost formed a living wall, he found what he had hoped to find,
and his relief was so great that, despite his natural and trained
stoicism, he gave a little cry of pleasure when he saw it.

A small lodge, made chiefly of poles and bark after the Iroquois
fashion, stood within the circle of the trees, occupying almost
the whole of the space. It was apparently abandoned long ago,
and time and weather had done it much damage. But the bark
walls, although they leaned in places at dangerous angles, still
stood. The bark roof was pierced by holes on one side, but on
the other it was still solid, and shed all the rain from its
slope.

The door was open, but a shutter made of heavy pieces of bark
cunningly joined together leaned against the wall, and Henry saw
that he could make use of it. He stepped inside. The hut had a