Marco and Forester found a small steamboat at Bath, going up the river, and they took passage in it to Hallowell. At Hallowell, they took the stage, and travelled along the banks of the river, sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other. They crossed the river by means of bridges, which were erected in nearly all the principal towns. They passed a number of waterfalls, where saw-mills had been built for sawing the logs. Marco was astonished at the number of these mills, the quantity of logs which lay in the booms, and the vast piles of boards which had accumulated in some of the sawing villages.

At one of these villages, where he and Forester stopped to spend the night, they went out in the evening to see the mills. The mills were lighted by little fires of pitch-pine knots, which made a bright flame and gave a fine light. These little fires were built upon slabs, which Marco thought was very dangerous. The slabs, however, though they looked dry, were really very wet, being thoroughly soaked with water within, having been sawed from logs which had been for a long time floating in the river.

The beam, to which the saw was attached in each mill, as it ascended and descended with the saw, passed across these lights with a rapid motion, which made the lights appear and disappear, in regular succession, in a very beautiful manner.

Forester and Marco clambered into one of these mills. They had to make their way over slabs, boards and heaps of rubbish of various kinds, and the floor of the mill seemed to be made of boards and planks, laid loosely and with many open places, in which, when Marco looked down, he saw dark and frightful abysses, where he could hear the water dashing, and, now and then, could get a glimpse of the foam.

Of course, both Forester and Marco advanced very carefully. When they had entered, they found but one man tending the mill. He was seated on a square block of wood, near the fire, eating some bread and cheese. As Forester and Marco advanced towards him, he looked up and bade them good evening.

"Will you allow us to come in and see the mill?" said Forester.

"By all means," said the millman.

The millman here looked around at the log which he was then sawing, and he observed that it was time for him to attend to it. So he put down his bread and cheese upon the block, and went towards the saw. Forester and Marco both turned to see what he was going to do.

The log was lying upon a long frame, which frame seemed to be mounted upon some sort of trucks, for it advanced slowly, by a steady motion, against the saw. As the saw was constantly moving up and down with great force, the log was sawed as it advanced. It had now advanced so far that the log had been sawed nearly through, from end to end. When it had gone a little farther, the millman pulled a handle, and stopped the motion of the carriage and the log, and, in a moment afterwards, the log began to go back again; the saw, all the time, ascending and descending as before, but without doing any work. When the log had got back so far that the saw came out of the cleft which it had made, the man stopped it, and then, with an iron bar, he shifted the position of the log in such a manner that when the carriage should be put in motion, the saw would cut the log in a new place, at a little distance from the other,—a distance just equal to the thickness of the board which they wished to make.

Marco watched all these movements with great interest. Forester, who had often seen them before, went back to the fire, and held his hands out to it, for, as it was a cold evening, the feeling of the warmth was pleasant. He could see that Marco remained talking with the millman; but the noise of the machinery was so great that he could not hear what they said.

The flashes of light from the fire illuminated Marco's face, however, and Forester could see that he was much interested in what the millman was telling him. The millman sat down upon the log, and made gestures as if he was eating something. Then he took hold of Marco, and put him down upon the log in his place, and he took a seat himself beyond him—that is, between Marco and the saw. All this time, the log, riding upon the great frame, was slowly advancing against the saw, carrying Marco and the millman along with it. When it had carried them so far that the millman was getting to be very near the saw, he turned suddenly round, and made a gesture as if he was going to clasp the saw in his arms,—laughing as he did it,—and, immediately afterwards, he got up from the log, and Marco got up, too,—beginning to laugh himself, also, though his countenance had expressed surprise and anxiety before.

A short time after this, when Marco came back to the place where Forester was, Forester asked him what the millman had been saying to him.

"He was telling me a story of a bear," said Marco.

"Of a bear?" said Forester.

"Yes," said Marco, "of a bear in a saw-mill."

"I don't see what a bear had to do in a saw-mill," replied Forester.

"It was a great many years ago, when there were bears in the woods about here. There was a man sawing in a mill, and he was sitting on the end of the log that he was sawing, eating his bread and cheese. The bread and cheese were lying on the log, next to where the man was sitting.

"While the man was sitting there in this manner, eating his bread and cheese, a bear came walking into the mill,—a great black bear. He came up to the log, and when he saw that the man was eating bread and cheese, he thought he should like some too. So he sat down on the log."

"On which side of the man?" asked Forester,—"towards the saw or from it?"

"Towards the saw," said Marco. "The man was on the end of the log farthest from the saw. The bear sat a little beyond him, nearer to the saw, and the bread and cheese was between them. The bear began to eat the bread and cheese."

"How?" asked Forester.

"Why, he took it up in his paws, I suppose," said Marco,—"though I don't know certainly about that. At any rate, he began to eat the bread and cheese,—sitting with his back towards the saw, and his face towards the man.

"And all this time, you must understand," said Marco, "that the carriage was carrying the log, man, bear, and all, towards the saw, and the man saw that if the bear would only keep still, in his place, until he was carried to the saw, he would get sawed in two, and so killed. At first, he thought it would be best for him to get hold of the iron bar, if he could, and beat the old bear's brains out. But he was afraid that he should not succeed in doing that, and so he concluded to wait and see what would happen.

"Now, bears have a way," continued Marco, "whenever they are angry with anything, of grasping it in their arms and hugging it tight. The man did not think of this; he only hoped that the saw would saw the bear in two. The log moved on nearer and nearer, and at last brought the bear along so far that the next stroke cut right down his back. He immediately turned around and seized the saw, and hugged it with all his strength, and it tore him all to pieces."

"Indeed," said Forester. "That is quite a story."

Forester did not seem so much astonished at this account as Marco had expected, but farther conversation on the subject was prevented by the occurring of a new object of attention. The millman began to make arrangements for drawing up more logs from the water of the river, by means of a long chain passing around a revolving axis, in the manner which has been already explained.

Marco watched the first log, as it came slowly up, and then he wanted to go down the inclined plane to the water below. The moon was just rising, which gave them sufficient light, and so Forester and Marco went down. Marco wanted to ride up on the next log, but Forester thought that that would be a very dangerous experiment. There was, however, a boat lying there, which, Forester said, perhaps they might get into, and take a little excursion upon the water, by moonlight. Marco thought that he should like that very well, and so he went up into the mill again, to ask permission to take the boat. The millman said that they might have the boat all night, if they wanted it.

Marco accordingly returned down the inclined plane, telling Forester that they could have the boat. But Forester, who began to find the evening air too cold and chilly, said that he did not think it was worth while for them to set out on a voyage at so late an hour. But Marco's imagination was so much taken with the idea of a voyage in a boat by moonlight, that he was very urgent to have Forester go. So Forester consented, and they both got into the boat.

"Which way shall we steer?" asked Marco.

"We must go up the stream," said Forester.

"Why must we?" asked Marco.

"Because there is a dam and a waterfall below us," replied Forester.

There was a dam across the river, at the mill, and the inclined plane, which led from the floor of the mill down to the shore of the river, terminated at the edge of the water just above the dam. The water was so low that it did not fall over the dam near the shore, though Forester and Marco could hear the roaring of the water, which fell over the dam nearer the middle of the river.

"We must take care," said Marco, "or we shall get carried over the dam. I read of an Indian once, who was carried over the falls of Niagara."

"Yes," said Forester; "we must be careful."

Forester turned the head of the boat up the river, keeping near the shore, so as to avoid all possibility of being carried over the dam. The boat shot along swiftly through the water.

"The boat goes very well," said Marco.

"Yes," replied Forester; "and yet it is only a log canoe."

"A log canoe," said Marco. "Is this only a log canoe?"

"That is all," replied Forester. "It is made of a log, hollowed out. They use a great many such boats on this river. They go very easily with paddles."

Forester and Marco both had paddles. Marco sat about in the middle of the boat, but Forester sat in the stern, propelling the boat and steering it at the same time. When they got up a little way above the dam, they went out farther towards the middle of the river. Forester soon became warm by the exercise of paddling, and had no disposition to return. They both found it very romantic and delightful to glide smoothly over the glassy surface of the water, which was silvered by the moonbeams.

They soon came to a turn in the river, which carried them away from the sight of the mills and the dam, and brought them under high banks, which, in some places, presented rocky cliffs to the view, and, in others, were covered with forests. This scenery had a peculiarly sombre and solemn expression, seen thus, under the light of the moon. Marco gazed at it in silence, and with a feeling of awe.

They went on in this manner for half an hour, until they found themselves approaching a rocky island, crowned with forests. Marco wanted to land upon it.

"Very well," said Forester; "I have no objection; but would you not rather go back?"

"No," said Marco. "I want to explore this island."

"But are you not cold?" asked Forester.

"No," said Marco, "not at all."

"My hands and feet are a little cold," said Forester.

"Then we will go back pretty soon," said Marco, "but first just let us land a minute upon this island."

So Forester turned the head of the boat towards the shore, and Marco, as soon as it touched, scrambled out upon the rocks.

"Oh, Forester!" he exclaimed, at once, "here is plenty of drift-wood. Let us make a fire, and warm your hands and feet."

"Drift-wood?" rejoined Forester. "Will drift-wood make a fire?"

"Why not?" asked Marco.

"I should think it would be too wet," replied Forester.

Marco said no more, but, at that instant, Forester observed a little flash, and then a faint glimmer of light where Marco was. He had lighted a match by rubbing it against some drift-wood. He touched it to some dry bark, and soon had a pleasant little blaze upon the rocks, near the shore. He piled on pieces of drift-wood, such as branches of trees, old slabs, &c., which he found lying about there, and he soon had a very good fire. Forester sat down upon the rocks, and warmed his hands and feet.

"I wish I had a hatchet here," said Marco, "or an axe."

"Why?" asked Forester.

"Why, we could make a camp, and lie here all night," said Marco.

"O, no," said Forester.

"Yes," said Marco, "for the man said we might have his boat all night."

"No," replied Forester. "We will camp out when we get fairly into the forests on Dead river."

Accordingly, after a little time, when the fire had burnt down somewhat, they threw the brands into the river, and then, embarking in their boat, they returned to the mill.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE BIVOUACK

Marco and Forester had an opportunity to encamp for the night, in the woods, in a manner different from what they expected. It happened in this way. In the course of their rambles among the forests which are about the lakes and the upper branches of the Kennebec, they came, one night, to a farm-house, where they had to spend the night. The house was built of logs. It was in a small opening in the woods. This opening was occupied with fields, which were divided from each other by log fences. The fields were full of stumps. The whole opening was bordered on every side by a perpendicular wall of forest,—the tall stems forming a colonnade, which reminded Marco of the palisades on the North river, just above New York.

There was but one room in this log house, and, at first, Marco did not know where he and Forester were to sleep. There was a great blazing fire in the fire-place, which was made of rough stones. The hearth was made of great flat stones. These stones were tolerably smooth on the upper side; but, as they were not square, there were many spaces left between them, and at the corners, which were filled with earth. But, though the fire-place was rough, the great fire blazed merrily in it; and Marco thought that it was pleasanter than his father's marble fire-place, in New York, with a grate in it, filled with a hard coal fire, looking like red-hot stones.

"I wish we had such a fire-place as this in New York," said Marco.

"And wood to burn in it," replied Forester.

"O, we can get wood enough in New York," said Marco. "The carmen bring it along every morning. We might have such a fire-place down in the basement, or in that little room in the stable, and then I would go and build fires in it."

Just then, the farmer's wife came with a spider to the fire, to broil some chickens for their supper. She pulled out the coals with a long-handled iron shovel, which she called a slice. She cooked the young travellers a most excellent supper.

The farmer and his wife were both rather young. They had one child. He was asleep in the cradle. This cradle was only a box, made of boards, and mounted on rockers. Marco asked the farmer if he made the cradle himself, and he said he did.

There was a boy living in this house, named Isaiah. Isaiah was the farmer's brother. He worked hard all day on the farm, and at night he slept in a sort of garret, which they called the loft. The way to get up to the loft was by a ladder on one side of the room.

When bed-time came, Forester and Marco climbed up this ladder, and went to bed. They slept upon a straw bed, which was lying in a corner. They had two clean but very coarse sheets, and a good warm coverlid. Marco crept in well under the eaves of the house, but Forester slept on the outer side of the bed, where the roof was higher.

Marco was awaked in the night by a strange sound, which he heard, directly over his head. He lifted up his head and listened. It was the pattering of rain upon the roof. The roof was, however, very tight, and none of the rain came in. The roof was covered with shingles, which the farmer had made himself, in a little shop near his house.

Marco listened to the rain a few minutes, and then went to sleep again. He was glad to hear it rain, because he wanted to stay at this house the next day, and he thought Forester would not go away in the rain.

The next that he knew was that it was morning. He spoke to Forester, saying,

"It rains, cousin Forester."

"Does it?" said Forester. "Then I don't know what we shall do."

"We must stay here, to-day," said Marco. "Then I can see Isaiah make a shingle. Isaiah can make a shingle. Did you know it?"

"I don't hear it rain," said Forester.

"I mean to get up and see," said Marco.

There was no glass window in this garret, but the light shone through the chinks between the logs. There was a wooden window, as Marco called it; that is, there was an opening in the wall, with a wooden shutter to close it. Marco went to this window and opened it. He looked out upon the wild and solitary scene which was before him with great interest. At length he said,

"No, cousin Forester, it does not rain,—but I wish you would stay here to-day."

"Very well," said Forester. "I will stay here as long as you wish."

Marco was rejoiced to hear this; and he spent two hours, after breakfast, in rambling about the farmer's house and grounds. He went into the little shop, and amused himself for half an hour in seeing Isaiah make shingles. Isaiah let him try to make one himself, and he succeeded pretty well. He carried his shingle in to Forester to show it to him.

Forester said he thought it was a very good shingle.

"I should like to carry it home," said Marco; "but I suppose you would think that that would be a foolish plan."

"No," said Forester, "I do not think it would be foolish. The shingle is flat, and will lie down in the bottom of your trunk; and, after you get tired of it as a shingle, you can have a little box made of it, and keep it all your life, as a memorial of this expedition."

This was a very good plan, for Marco had not shaved his shingle very thin. In fact, it was of about equal thickness at the two ends. This, though a very serious fault in a shingle, made it much more suitable as a material for making a box of.

Marco also amused himself for half an hour in going down to the spring, where the farmer's wife went to get water, and playing there. There was a pleasant little path leading from the house down to the spring. He went down once alone, and brought up a pail half full of water, for the farmer's wife, which seemed to please her very much.

While he was doing these things, Forester remained in the house, writing letters. Before Forester had finished his last letter, however, Marco had got tired of all his amusements, and began to think that they had better resume their journey.

"Very well," said Forester; "whenever you say the word."

"How are you going?" asked Marco.

"I have made a bargain with the farmer," said Forester, "to let us have his wagon to go through the woods about twenty-five miles, and Isaiah is going with us, in order to drive the wagon back."

Marco was much pleased with this arrangement, and Forester asked him what time they should start. "We are under your direction, you know," said he.

"Yes," said Marco, "and I wish you would let me have the direction all day."

"I have a great mind to do it," said Forester.

"Do," said Marco, "and see how well I'll manage."

"Well," said Forester; "I will give up the command to you till I resume it again."

Marco was quite pleased with his new powers. He said they must take a hatchet and a bag of provisions, for he meant to dine in the woods on the way. Isaiah accordingly put a hatchet in the wagon. They also took some bread and cheese, and some other articles of food, in a bag; and also a tin dipper, to drink from. When all was ready, Marco called Forester, and they set off. Their trunk was put into the wagon behind.

They went on very well for ten miles. The road led through thick forests for a large part of the way, and it was very stony and rough. But the wilderness, and even the difficulties of the way, interested Marco very much. He thought that it was much pleasanter travelling through those forest scenes, the wheels of the wagon sometimes jolting over roots, stones, logs, and sometimes sinking in the mire, than riding in a carriage, as he had often done with his mother, over the smooth and broad avenues leading into New York.

After they had gone about ten miles, they were brought to a sudden stop by a tree, which had been blown down, and had fallen directly across the road.

"What is to be done now?" said Marco.

Nobody answered.

"What is to be done now, cousin Forester?" repeated Marco.

"I don't know," said Forester. "I've nothing to do with it. You are commander."

"Oh, very well," said Marco. "Then I'll decide what to do. We'll chop the tree off with our hatchet."

Marco bustled about with an air of great importance, taking the hatchet from the back of the wagon, and advancing towards the tree, as if he expected to sunder it at a single blow. He looked towards Isaiah, and, seeing a lurking smile upon his countenance, he immediately perceived how absurd was the idea of chopping off such an enormous stem with a hatchet.

He accordingly turned suddenly about, saying,

"No; we can't cut it off with the hatchet. It is too big; or, rather, the hatchet is too little. We'll see if we can't find a way to get around it."

So Marco asked Forester to look on one side of the road, while he and Isaiah examined the other side. They found that, by cutting down one or two small trees, they could get around very well. So Marco directed to have these trees cut down, and then they led the horse around without much difficulty, excepting a slight obstruction from the bushes.

Marco was quite pleased with the successful result of his management in this first serious emergency. They rode on five miles farther, and then Marco determined that it would be a good plan to look out for a place for their dinner. He chose a place in a pleasant dell, overshadowed by tall pines and hemlocks, and watered by a brook which meandered through the middle of it.

Marco directed Isaiah to drive the horse out to one side of the road, at a place where there was a pretty broad and level spot, which seemed to Marco a convenient place for the horse to stand. Marco told Forester that he and Isaiah might go and employ themselves in finding a good spot for them to make a fire, and in collecting some dry wood, while he fastened the horse. Isaiah accordingly took the axe, and Marco was to bring the bag of provisions.

Marco drew the horse out of the road, and brought his head up near to the stem of a little tree, which was growing there. He then took out the bag, and made his way through the bushes, in the direction in which Forester and Isaiah had gone, down a little cow path, which descended to the bank of the brook.

He found Forester and Isaiah very readily. Forester was seated upon a flat stone near the water, and Isaiah was gathering dry sticks for a fire. It was a warm and pleasant day, and they wanted a fire, not so much for its warmth, as for the cheerful and pleasant aspect it gave to the place. There was a gentle breeze blowing that day in the open ground. This breeze was not felt among the trees, but it caused a gentle draft of air, which carried all the smoke away from them, and made their seat, on the great flat stone, very pleasant.

"Have you fastened the horse?" said Forester.

"Yes," replied Marco.

"You ought to fasten him pretty strong," said Isaiah, "for he's very apt to get away."

"O, he won't get away," said Marco; "I fastened him to a good stout tree."

When the fire was burning well, Isaiah and Marco buried some potatoes, which they had brought with them, in the embers under it. They also put some apples down to roast on a flat stone, which they placed near the fire.

"I wish we had some Carolina potatoes," said Marco.

"What kind of potatoes are they?" asked Isaiah.

"They are sweet. They would be excellent to roast in the woods."

"I never heard of a potato being sweet," said Isaiah.

"Yes," said Marco. "They have plenty of them in New York."

"Then why don't they call them New York potatoes?" asked Isaiah.

"Why, I believe they came from Carolina first," said Marco. "And now I want a long stick for a toaster."

So Marco cut a long stick, and, after he had made the end sharp, he put a slice of bread upon it, and placed it before the fire, and thus toasted the bread. It is remarkable that the business of cooking the food, which, in houses and cities, is considered a disagreeable drudgery, which is to be kept as much as possible out of sight, is always in the woods a very important part of the entertainment, in which all the guests are pleased to take a share.