The Boreas at this point is about one hundred feet broad, winds through a woody valley, and is cold, rapid and clear. The entire river does not differ materially, as I understand from the point alluded to, for it waters an unknown wilderness. I bribed my farmer friend to _ascend_ the river, and having pocketed a variety of flies, I started down the stream. I proceeded near half a mile, when I came to a still-water pool, which seemed to be extensive and very deep. At the head of it, midway in the stream, was an immense boulder, which I succeeded in surmounting, and whence I threw a red hackle for upwards of three hours. I never saw trout jump more beautifully, and it was my rare luck to basket thirty-four, twenty-one of which averaged three quarters of a pound, and the remaining thirteen were regular two-pounders. Satisfied with my luck, I returned to the shantee, where I found my companions, one of them sitting before a blazing fire and fiddling, and the other busily employed in cleaning the trout he had taken.
In due time followed the principal event of the day, which consisted in cooking and eating a wilderness supper. We had brought a supply of pork and bread, and each one having prepared for himself a pair of wooden forks, we proceeded to roast our trout and pork before a huge fire, using the drippings of the latter for seasoning, and a leather cup of water for our beverage. We spent the two following hours in smoking and telling stories; and having made a bed of spruce boughs, and repaired the rickety partition which divided one end of the cabin from the other end, which was all open, we retired to repose. We had no blankets with us, and an agreement was, therefore, entered into that we should take turns in replenishing the fire, during the night. An awfully dark cloud settled upon the wilderness, and by the music of the wind among the hemlock trees we were soon lulled into a deep slumber.
A short time after midnight, while dreaming of a certain pair of eyes in the upper part of Broadway, I was awakened by a footstep on the outside of the cabin. I brushed open my eyes, but could see nothing but the faint glimmer of an expiring ember on the hearth. I held my breath and listened for the mysterious footsteps; I heard it not, but something a little more exciting,—the scratching of a huge paw upon our slender door. In an exceedingly short time I roused my bed-fellows, and told them what I had heard. They thought it must be a wolf, and as we were afraid to frighten him away, yet anxious to take his hide, it was resolved that I should hold a match, and the farmer should fire his rifle in the direction of the mysterious noise, which operation was duly performed. A large pine torch was then lighted, the rifle reloaded, and the heroes of the adventure marched into the outer hall of the cabin, where we found a few drops of blood, and the muddy tracks of what we supposed to be a wild cat. The rifleman and myself then commissioned the fiddler to make a fire, when we again threw ourselves upon the hemlock couch.