It contrasted strangely enough, did this vigorous and beautiful outcast, with its dead and dismal surroundings.

It was like a cheerful spirit in a mourning household.
We hunted for the spring everywhere, traversing the full length of the island (two or three miles), and crossing it twice--climbing ash-hills patiently, and then sliding down the other side in a sitting posture, plowing up smothering volumes of gray dust.

But we found nothing but solitude, ashes and a heart-breaking silence.

Finally we noticed that the wind had risen, and we forgot our thirst in a solicitude of greater importance; for, the lake being quiet, we had not taken pains about securing the boat.

We hurried back to a point overlooking our landing place, and then--but mere words cannot describe our dismay--the boat was gone! The chances were that there was not another boat on the entire lake.