The worthy hunter shook his head solemnly as he said this in a low voice, more to himself than to his companions, and he continued to mutter and shake his head for some minutes, while he knocked the ashes out of his pipe. Having refilled and relighted it, he drew his blanket over his shoulder, laid his head upon a tuft of grass, and continued to smoke until he fell asleep, and allowed the pipe to fall from his lips.
The Indian followed his example, with this difference, that he laid aside his pipe, and drew the blanket over his head and under his feet, and wrapped it round him in such a way that he resembled a man sewed up in a sack.
Heywood was thus compelled to shut his sketch-book; so he also wrapped himself in his blanket, and was soon sound asleep.
The camp-fire gradually sank low. Once or twice the end of a log fell, sending up a bright flame and a shower of sparks, which, for a few seconds, lighted up the scene again and revealed the three slumbering figures. But at last the fire died out altogether, and left the encampment in such thick darkness that the sharpest eye would have failed to detect the presence of man in that distant part of the lone wilderness.
Chapter Four.
Mosquitoes—Camp-Fire Talk.
There is a certain fly in the American forests which is worthy of notice, because it exercises a great influence over the happiness of man in those regions. This fly is found in many other parts of the world, but it swarms in immense numbers in America, particularly in the swampy districts of that continent, and in the hot months of summer. It is called a mosquito—pronounced moskeeto—and it is, perhaps, the most tormenting, the most persevering, savage, vicious little monster on the face of the earth. Other flies go to sleep at night; the mosquito never does. Darkness puts down other flies—it seems to encourage the mosquito. Day and night it persecutes man and beast, and the only time of the twenty-four hours in which it seems to rest is about noon, when the heat puts it down for a little. But this period of rest strengthens it for a renewal of war during the remainder of the day and night. In form the mosquito very much resembles the gnat, but is somewhat larger. This instrument of torture is his nose, which is quite as long as his body, and sharper than the finest needle. Being unable to rest because of the mosquitoes, Heywood resolved to have a chat.
“Come, Jasper,” said he, looking up into his companion’s grave countenance, “although we have been many weeks on this journey now, you have not yet told me what has brought you here, or what the end of your trip is going to be.”