In a few minutes he was busily employed, stripping sheets of the ever-useful birch-bark from the trunk that had fallen at the foot of the "Wolf's Crag," for so the children had named the memorable spot where poor Catharine's accident had occurred.
The rough outside coatings of the bark, which are of silvery whiteness, but are ragged from exposure to the action of the weather in the larger and older trees, he peeled off, and then cutting the bark so that the sides lapped well over, and the corners were secured from cracks, he proceeded to pierce holes opposite to each other, and with some trouble managed to stitch them tightly together, by drawing strips of the moose or leather-wood through and through.

The first attempt, of course, was but rude and ill-shaped, but it answered the purpose, and only leaked a little at the corners for want of a sort of flap, which he had forgotten to allow in cutting out the bark; this flap in the Indian baskets and dishes turns up, and keeps all tight and close.

The defect he remedied in his subsequent attempts.

In spite of its deficiencies, Louis's water-jar was looked upon with great admiration, and highly commended by Catharine, who almost forgot her sufferings--while watching her cousin's proceedings.
Louis was elated by his own successful ingenuity, and was for running off directly to the spring.

"Catharine shall now have cold water to bathe her poor ancle with, and to quench her thirst," he said, joyfully springing to his feet, ready for a start up the steep bank: but Hector quietly restrained his lively cousin, by suggesting the possibility of his not finding the "fountain in the wilderness," as Louis termed the spring, or losing himself altogether.
"Let us both go together, then." cried Louis.