We secured a good many of these little fellows which have about the the best fur that is found in America.
We were here about three weeks, and our provisions giving out and the ice becoming tender in the swamp were two pretty strong reasons for our getting out, so we shouldered our packs of fur and our guns and, getting our course from a pocket-compass, we started out.

As we pushed on we came to some old windfalls that were troublesome to get through.

The dense timber seemed to be six feet deep, and we would sometimes climb over and sometimes crawl under, the fallen trees were so thickly mixed and tangled.
Mr.Buck got so completely tired that he threw away his traps.

We reached our starting place at O'Neil's saw-mill after many days of the hardest work, and nearly starved, for we had seen no game on our trip.
We found our traps and furs all safe here and as this stream was one of the tributaries of the Mississippi, we decided to make us a boat and float down toward that noted stream.

We secured four good boards and built the boat in which we started down the river setting traps and moving at our leisure.