The plant climbed to a great height over the young trees, with a profusion of dark green leaves and tendrils.

Pleased with the bowery appearance of the plant, he tried to pull one up, that he might show it to his cousin, when the root displayed a number of large tubers, as big as good-sized potatoes, regular oval-shaped; the inside was quite white, tasting somewhat like a potato, only pleasanter, when in its raw state, than an uncooked potato.

Louis gathered his pockets full, and hastened home with his prize, and, on being roasted, these new roots were decided to be little inferior to potatoes, at all events, they were a valuable addition to their slender stores, and they procured as many as they could find, carefully storing them in a hole, which they dug for that purpose in a corner of their hut.

_[FN: This plant appears to me to be a species of the _Psoralea esculenta_, or Indian bread-root, which it resembles in description, excepting that the root of the above is tuberous oval, and connected by long filaments.
The largest tubers are farthest from the stem of the plant.]_ Hector suggested that these roots would be far better late in the fall, or early in the spring, than during the time that the plant was in bloom, for he knew from observation and experience that at the flowering season the greater part of the nourishment derived from the soil goes to perfect the flower and the seeds.

Upon scraping the cut tuber, there was a white floury powder produced resembling the starchy substance of the potato.
"This flour," said Catharine, "would make good porridge with milk." "Excellent, no doubt, my wise little cook and housekeeper," said Louis, laughing, "but ma belle cousine, where is the milk, and where is the porridge-pot to come from ?" "Indeed," said Catharine, "I fear, Louis, we must wait long for both." One fine day, Louis returned home from the lake shore in great haste, for the bows and arrows, with the interesting news that a herd of five deer were in the water, and making for Long Island.
"But, Louis, they will be gone out of sight and beyond the reach of the arrows," said Catharine, as she handed him down the bows and a sheaf of arrows, which she quickly slung round his shoulders by the belt of skin, which, the young hunter had made for himself.
"No fear, ma chere; they will stop to feed on the beds of rice and lilies.