“It can scarcely be called a river at this place,” remarked the accountant, “seeing that the water hereabouts is brackish, and the tides ebb and flow a good way up. In fact, this is the extreme mouth of North River; and if you turn your eyes a little to the right, towards yonder ice-hummock in the plain, you behold the frozen sea itself.”
“Where are your traps set?” inquired Harry.
“Down in the hollow, behind yon point covered with brushwood.”
“Oh, we shall soon get to them, then; come along,” cried Harry.
Harry was mistaken, however. He had not yet learned by experience the extreme difficulty of judging of distance in the uncertain light of night—a difficulty that was increased by his ignorance of the locality, and by the gleams of moonshine that shot through the driving clouds, and threw confused, fantastic shadows over the plain. The point which he had at first supposed was covered with low bushes, and about a hundred yards off, proved to be clad in reality with large bushes and small trees, and lay at a distance of two miles.
“I think you have been mistaken in supposing the point so near, Harry,” said Hamilton, as he trudged on beside his friend.
“A fact evident to the naked eye,” replied Harry. “How do your feet stand it, eh? Beginning to lose bark yet?”
Hamilton did not feel quite sure. “I think,” said he, softly, “that there is a blister under the big toe of my left foot. It feels very painful.”
“If you feel at all uncertain about it, you may rest assured that there is a blister. These things don’t give much pain at first. I’m sorry to tell you, my dear fellow, that you’ll be painfully aware of the fact to-morrow. However, don’t distress yourself; it’s a part of the experience that every one goes through in this country. Besides,” said Harry, smiling, “we can send to the fort for medical advice.”
“Don’t bother the poor fellow, and hold your tongue, Harry,” said the accountant, who now began to tread more cautiously as he approached the place where the traps were set.