bark floor which was dry on one side, where the roof was solid,
but dripping on the other. Several old articles of Indian use
lay about. In one corner was a basket woven of split willow and
still fit for service. There were pieces of thread made of
Indian hemp and the inner bark of the elm. There were also a
piece of pottery and a large, beautifully carved wooden spoon
such as every Iroquois carried. In the corner farthest from the
door was a rude fireplace made of large flat stones, although
there was no opening for the smoke.

Henry surveyed it all thoughtfully, and he came to the conclusion
that it was a hut for hunting, built by some warrior of an
inquiring mind who had found this secret place, and who had
recognized its possibilities. Here after an expedition for game
he could lie hidden from enemies and take his comfort without
fear. Doubtless he had sat in this hut on rainy days like the
present one and smoked his pipe in the long, patient calm of
which the Indian is capable.

Yes, there was the pipe, unnoticed before, trumpet shaped and
carved beautifully, lying on a small bark shelf. Henry picked it
tip and examined the bowl. It was as dry as a bone, and not a
particle of tobacco was left there. He believed that it had not
been used for at least a year. Doubtless the Indian who had
built this hunting lodge had fallen in some foray, and the secret
of it had been lost until Henry Ware, seeking through the cold
and rain, had stumbled upon it.

It was nothing but a dilapidated little lodge of poles and bark,
all a-leak, but the materials of a house were there, and Henry