The pedestrians deserted the archæological find, and trudged away into the north west.
"Wilks, my dear, I feel like the black crow," said Coristine, as they journeyed along the pleasant highway.
"Like what?" asked the dominie, adjusting his eye-glass.
"Like the crow, don't you know?
Said one black crow unto his mate,
What shall we do for grub to ate?
Faith, it'll be an awful thing if we're going to die of starvation in the wilderness."
"I thought you were a botanist, Corry?"
"So I am, in a small way."
"Then, what bushes are those in that beaver meadow?"