Miles had in his pocket a fourpenny whittle, his dearest possession, with which he stripped a great piece of bark from a birch tree, and, cleaving two sticks, shaped it into a basket, in which to carry away some of the berries "against dinner-time." But the basket proved an incumbrance to the wayfarers, so, before they had wandered another mile, the two children sat down in a pine grove, and ate the berries they had gathered. They tied Trug carefully, a needless precaution, for the old dog, with as burdening a sense of responsibility as Miles himself, had no thought of trotting home and leaving those two foolish little bodies to their own protection.
By the position of the sun Miles judged it past noon, when they came at last to a brook, which he thought might be the upper waters of the stream he was seeking. He waded in first to try its depth; then, in gallant fashion, would have carried Dolly over, but little mistress wished the fun of paddling too. The alders, coming low to the brookside, cast a rippling shadow on the water, and the sandy bottom was firm and cool; so when both children once had waded in, they spent some time in splashing to and fro, while Miles set forth to Dolly how he had caught eels.
The shadows were beginning to lengthen when they climbed out on the farther side of the brook, and passed slowly up the next hillslope. Dolly now found she was tired, so Miles said they might as well build their house there as anywhere. Indeed, halfway up the slope they found a capital spot, where the hill, drawing back on itself, left a little level space, with sparse undergrowth and tall trees, the vanguard of the forest higher up, that cast a good shade.
To be sure, the exposure was northern, but that would make the place cool in summer, Miles set forth its advantages, and when winter came, they could move round and pitch their camp on the other side of the hill, to southward. "But I shouldn't like to dwell in the wood when it snows," protested Dolly. "Let us go back and stay at Plymouth, come winter."
But Miles, in his new independence, laughed at the idea of return, and assured Dolly that he knew how to make her a snug enough house for all weathers. He would drive four forked stakes into the ground; and then, from fork to fork, he would lay four sticks; and across those, other great sticks; and thatch all over with moss. He would drive stakes into the ground to form the sides of the cabin, and wattle them with elder twigs; and it would be just the trimmest little house she ever saw. Yes, he could drive stakes inside and divide the space into rooms, and he would cut windows; the only thing that troubled him was how to build the fireplace, but he guessed he would think that out presently.