When Fred Linden reached the where he had met with his stirring adventure the day before, he could not help smiling. It had shrunk to its usual volume, and was along as lazily as usual, the only sign of the violent freshet being the débris left along the bank and the slightly appearance of the current.  
The pioneers had so many occasions to cross this stream of water that they had made several attempts to put up a rude but strong bridge; but no matter what pains they took, they could never a structure strong enough to withstand the furious freshets which, as you can well understand, were often resistless.
 
The result, therefore, was a reliance upon the canoes, some of which lay on one side of the stream and some on the other; but a surprise awaited young Linden. Seeing no boat in sight, he walked along the shore in quest of one, for he was resolved to keep out of the water as long as he could, though a lad on the frontier makes far less ado about dripping garments than you or I.
 
That which surprised him was the sight of a long, tree which, coming down the creek, when the water was rapidly falling, had swung around in such position that the roots caught fast in the clayey soil on the bank, and the limbs were imbedded in the sand and mud on the other shore. The result was as good a bridge as a foot traveler could want.
 
"That will do until there comes another rise," he said, as he carefully stepped upon the limbs, using them to reach the trunk, along which he walked across the water, leaping to the ground on the other side.
 
He stepped off with his gait, keeping so close to the path that he and Terry had taken the day before that he caught sight of the bushes around the splintered trunk of the tree where the rifle captured from the Winnebago had been hidden.
 
"He'll be over early to get his prize," thought Fred; "for it is beyond all worth to him. If it wouldn't make him feel so bad I would plague him a little by hiding it."
 
He parted the bushes and peered within. The first object on which his eye fell was the old cow-bell that had played such a curious part the day before, but he saw nothing of the gun itself; a brief but hurried search convinced him that it was gone.
 
"That will break Terry's heart," said he to himself; "he never owned a gun, and now, to lose such a handsome one when it has been in his possession only a brief while, will grieve him as much as the loss of a dear friend."
 
Just then young Linden caught the faint but clear notes of some one whistling. He had but to listen a second or two, when he recognized it, as he did the laugh that followed. Looking to his right, he saw Terry himself but a few paces away, and, so to speak, in his "war paint." Bullet , powder-horn, bundle on his back, and, more than all, the splendid rifle was there. The round, face, clear eyes, and pug nose117 of the Irish lad seemed to radiate delight as he made an elaborate to his friend, and, with mock gravity, his hat and scraped his foot along the ground. "Why, Terry," said the delighted Fred, asking the useless question, "what is the meaning of this?"
 
"I'm going wid ye to the camp in the Ozark Mountains; do ye think I could rist aisy, knowin' that ye had to travel such a long distance wid no one to take care of ye?"
 
"Well, now, that just pleases me more than I can tell you," said the overjoyed Fred, slapping him on the shoulder; "there isn't any one in the wide world whose company I want as bad as yours; I lay awake half of last night trying to get up some plan by which I could have you with me, but I couldn't think of any, and had to give it up. Father sent only for me, and I didn't suppose that Mr. MacClaskey would spare you. Tell me how you managed it."
 
A quizzical expression came upon the face of the Irish lad, who, leaning on his rifle, took off his hat and scratched his head for a few seconds before answering.
 
"Wal, bein' it's yersilf, Fred, I don't mind118 sayin' that it took some strategy, as I suppose Deerfut would call it. Last night, after we had eat our supper, and the chores were done wid, and Mr. MacClaskey had took his seat by the fire and lit his pipe, and Mrs. MacClaskey had started her spinning-wheel a-hummin', and the children had been packed off to bed, I told the folks the whole story. I managed it in such a style that the owld gentleman, who, you know, has spint two winters in the mountains, said it would make the folks out there desprit short of hands. I observed, in me careless way, that such was the case, and that Mr. Linden had sent word to ye that he wanted ye to come, and, from things that I knew, me own prisence would give great satisfaction to sartin parties. Ye understand that I had yersilf in me eye, though I didn't think there was nade of making it all plain how it was.
 
"Wai, the owld gintleman wouldn't listen to me goin' away, but I managed it so well that after awhile he kind of remarked that if the............