"One of those at Tampa," replied Robert. "I heard several of them relate, one day, how much they had suffered in marching with blistered feet, when one of the number remarked that whenever the signs of chafing occurred he had relieved himself by shifting his socks from one foot to the other, or by turning them inside out. Upon this another stated that he was generally able to escape all chafing by rubbing the inside of his socks with a little soap before setting out. And another still added that he had often cured his blistered feet, in time for the next day's march, by rubbing them with spirits mixed with tallow dropped from a candle into the palm of his hand. Before leaving home, today, I took the precaution to soap the inside of my socks; but now I shall have to try the efficacy of the other remedy; and sorry shall I be if there should be need for the third plan, because we have neither the tallow nor the spirits necessary for the experiment."

Robert gave the proposed plan a trial, and found, to his delight, that it saved him from all further discomfort.

Nothing more of interest occurred that day. On leaving the river, which, after making a great sweep to the south-east, came so near the bank on which they stood, as to afford a good landing for boats, they turned into the woods and kept a northern course parallel with the shore. About sunset they stopped beside a large log of resinous pine, which they selected for the place of their encampment that night, intending to set the log a-fire. Around it they cleared an irregular ring, which they fired on the inner side, thus providing a place for their sleeping free from insects, and from which fire could not escape into the surrounding forest. Next, they made themselves a tent of bushes, by bending down one sapling, fastening its top to the side of another, and then piling against it a good supply of evergreens, inclined sufficiently to allow a narrow space beneath. A neighbouring tree supplied them with moss for a superb woodland mattress, and while Robert was preparing that Harold collected a quantity of pine knots, to be reserved in case their fire should decline.

By the time these preparations were completed darkness closed around. Jupiter, at that time the evening star, glowed brightly from the western sky, while Orion, with his brilliant belt, gleamed cheerily from the east. The boys sat for some time luxuriating in their rest, listening to the musical roar of their fire, and watching the red glare which lighted up the sombre arches of the forest; then uniting in their simple repast, and giving Mum his share, they lay down to sleep, having committed themselves to the care of Him who slumbers not, and who is as near his trustful worshippers in the forest as in the city.

There is a wild pleasure in sleeping in the deep dark woods. The sense of solitude, the consciousness of exposure, the eternal rustle of the leafy canopy, or else its perfect stillness, broken only by the stealthy tread of some beast of night, or the melancholy hooting of a restless owl, give a variety which is not usual to civilized men, but which, being of a sombre character, requires for its enjoyment a bold heart and a self-relying spirit.

The boys retired to rest soon after supper, and tried to sleep; but the novelty of their circumstances kept them awake. They rose from their mossy couch, sat by the fire, and talked of their past history and of their future prospects. All around was perfect stillness. Their voices sounded weak and childlike in that deep forest; and embosomed as they were in an illuminated circle, beyond whose narrow boundary rose an impenetrable wall of darkness, they felt as if they were but specks in the midst of a vast and lonely world.

At last their nervous excitement passed away. They retired once more to bed, having their guns within reach, and Mum lying at their feet. The roar of the blaze and crackle of the wood composed them to sleep; and when they next awoke, daylight had spread far over the heavens, and the stars had faded from sight. They sprang lightly to their feet, and before the sun appeared were once more on their way northward, along the banks of the river.

Their march was now slow and toilsome. In the interior a hammock of rich land, covered with lofty trees, matted with vines, and feathered with tall grass, impeded their progress; while near the river bay-galls, stretching from the water's edge to the hammocks, fringed with gall-berries, myrtles and saw-palmettoes, and crowded internally with bays, tupeloes, and majestic cypresses (whose singular looking "knees" peeped above the mud and water like a wilderness of conical stumps), forced them to the interior. Their average rate of travel was scarcely a mile to the hour.

Several herds of deer darted before them as they passed, and once, while in the hammock, where the growth was very rank, they were almost within arm's length.

About noon they emerged into an open space, which Harold pronounced to be a small prairie; but in the act of stepping into it, rejoiced at a temporary relief from the viny forest, he grasped the arm of his cousin, and drew him behind a bush, with a hurried,