[IX]
THE DARK FOREST
At nightfall the travelers camped in the shelter of a huge boulder. Quagnant made a fire by rubbing two sticks together; then he spread the embers about and started other fires close to the face of the rock. When they had burned themselves out, he bade Conrad lie down on the warmed ground. Faintly aware that Quagnant went on with some other device for making him comfortable, Conrad slept.
In the morning he found that he lay in a tent formed by the boughs of evergreens and that he was still comfortably warm. Quagnant had shot a bird which he was roasting over the fire. When it was eaten and the fire was tramped out, Quagnant shouldered his pack. He looked up at the sky, shook his head, and started briskly away.
Until noon Quagnant led the way across rough hills and through narrow valleys. While they ate their lunch, the snow began to fall and Quagnant grunted his annoyance. Soon the rocks were slippery and the trail hard to find. There were other hills and other valleys and another exhausted sleep at night.
On the third day, Conrad was certain that he could not rise. Quagnant helped him up and many times in the morning slackened his pace or stopped entirely. In the afternoon he stopped short and bade Conrad look ahead. They had come round the shoulder of a hill and were looking into a broad valley. Here there had been no snow and the meadows were green. Through the center of the valley ran a stream, broad and full and smoothly flowing.
"I see people!" cried Conrad. "They are building houses!"
Suddenly Conrad's heart throbbed against his side.
"Schoharie!" he cried. "Is this Schoharie?"
Quagnant grinned.