As they passed the lakes the heavy gray stork flapped up in front of them, and they saw the wild duck whirring off in a long V against the blue sky, or heard the quavering cry of the loon from amid the reeds.
That night they slept in the woods, Amos Green lighting a dry wood fire in a thick copse where at a dozen paces it was invisible.

A few drops of rain had fallen, so with the quick skill of the practised woodsman he made two little sheds of elm and basswood bark, one to shelter the two refugees, and the other for Ephraim and himself.

He had shot a wild goose, and this, with the remains of their biscuit, served them both for supper and for breakfast.

Next day at noon they passed a little clearing, in the centre of which were the charred embers of a fire.
Amos spent half an hour in reading all that sticks and ground could tell him.

Then, as they resumed their way, he explained to his companions that the fire had been lit three weeks before, that a white man and two Indians had camped there, that they had been journeying from west to east, and that one of the Indians had been a squaw.