In the summer of 1864 Paul Seeton went to spend his holidays with his cousin, Frank More.

Frank lived in the northern part of Maine, on the outskirts of a vast forest. Paul was a Boston boy, who had scarcely ever been out of the city in his life.

It was in Aroostook county, a place famous for growing the biggest timber in the northern states, a place known to lumbermen and loved by them; with few inhabitants except those who are engaged in the timber trade; with no villages and no roads.

One day Frank proposed a fishing excursion. Their destination was about fifteen miles away, on a chain of lakes that extended far into the forest.

They set out at break of day, rode on horseback over a rough road for about two hours, and at length reached the shore of a lake.

Here they hired a boat from a man who lived in a log house, and embarking, sailed for five or six miles to a place where the lake narrowed. Here taking down their sail they rowed for some distance through a channel so narrow that the branches of the lofty pines on either side almost met. It took a good hour to pass through this, when suddenly they emerged from it and found themselves on a second lake, three or four times as large as the first.

Up went the sail again, and away they went over the second lake for about ten miles. All around grew the primeval forest, dense, dark and luxuriant. But Frank had been here before, and the scene was quite familiar.

The boat went swiftly onward, and at last approached the farthest extremity of the lake. Here a small peninsula jutted forth from the forest into the lake, which was cleared and under cultivation. Upon it arose a log hut, from the rude chimney of which smoke was curling upward.

It belonged to a man named Spence, who cultivated the ground in summer and in winter went lumbering in the woods. He lived there all alone, and apart from his solitude was very comfortable.

The boat grounded on the beach in front of Spence's hut, and the boys went up to the house. They found Spence himself at home, cooking his dinner.

The boys did not stay long. After asking a few questions as to the best fishing holes, they took to the boat again, and following Spence's directions, rowed toward a small creek which penetrated among the hills, and passing up this, at length came to a small basin enclosed by high wooded shores. Here they began to fish.

Although they waited patiently, they found, to their great disappointment, that the fish would not come. At length Paul felt a bite; he pulled up his line in a fever of agitation, and with a glow of triumph jerked into the boat a tiny fish about four inches long. But Paul's triumph was not at all shared by Frank.

"Pooh!" said he, "it's only a miserable perch."

"A perch?" said Paul. "Isn't it a good fish?"

"Good? Why, these lakes are crammed with them. It's trout we want, not these." And as Frank said this he jerked his own line with some complacency. Soon something bit his bait. He jerked it out and found, to his disgust, another perch.

At length Frank said that he was going up the woods a little distance, to a lake which was about a mile off, connected with this by a brook. He could follow the windings of the brook and easily get there.

Paul, however, thought he would stay where he was, for the woods looked very rough, and he enjoyed being in a boat, even if he didn't catch anything.

So Frank started off, promising to be back within an hour.

Paul continued his fishing. He moved the boat to the opposite shore. No bites came—that is, none came to the bait, but he soon became aware of other bites, which he did not expect. These were produced by swarms of mosquitoes, which gathered so thickly that at last Paul had to pull in his line and give himself to self-defense. He shifted the position of the boat a dozen times, but his persecutors followed him. At last he could stand it no longer, and concluded to go after Frank.

Nearly an hour had passed, and it was about time for Frank to return. It was Paul's intention to stroll along the brook, and he would be certain either to meet Frank in his return, or else he would find him at the lake to which he had gone.

It was very swampy, and Paul sank in up to his knees for some distance, but at length reached rising ground. The brook was only a small one, and was bordered by such dense underbrush that Paul found it impossible to follow it. In fact, a much better path appeared.

This was a rough track, overgrown with moss and ferns, which was used by the lumbermen in winter. It went up from the lake apparently in the same direction as the brook.

So he walked along this path, forcing his way through alder bushes and tangled ferns, until at last he came to a stop in front of a wide and impassable marsh.

The lumber path in winter ran across this, but now it could not be traversed. So Paul tried to go around it. But after completing about half the circuit, he reached a swampy place which he could not cross.

He now retraced his steps, and at length decided to return to the boat and wait there.

The lumber path could not be very easily found, but at last he turned into a place which looked very much like it, and walked on for some distance. But the way was rough. At length the path ceased altogether. He found himself in the wild wood.

He saw now that he had missed the path, but thought that the best plan would be to keep straight on, and get back to the lake. So he kept on. It was very hard work. The ground was covered with moss, in some places it was spongy, in others it was overgrown with ferns, while every now and then he would have to climb over the trunk of some fallen tree.

In this way he struggled onward for a long time, and wondered why he could not see any signs of the lake. At last he began to grow discouraged. The full conviction forced itself upon him that he had lost his way. He had been wandering; how long a time and how far he did not know.

There were no signs whatever of the lake. What to do he could not tell. He stood still, and looked around. Dense forest trees arose on every side, shutting out the view, and enclosing him with their gloomy shades.

Then he called as loud as he could. There was no answer. He called again and again, and waited for a long time after each cry to hear whether there was any response. But none came.

What to do now was the question. He was not a coward, but any one might well have been alarmed, lost in those vast, trackless forests. Paul was alarmed, of course; but he was a spirited boy, and was not inclined to sit down and give up. After a few minutes he wisely decided that it was necessary to have some plan, and choose some definite direction in which to go.

So he concluded that the safest way for him would be to retrace his steps as carefully as possible.

Back he went, and managed to recover his track, but lost sight of it again, and found himself once more completely at a loss.

Turning on his own track in this way had only severed him utterly from the last faint hold which he had on the possible direction of the lake.

Once more he stood and considered, and finally after making up his mind as to the probable position of the lake, he started again with the determination to keep on in as straight a line as possible in that one direction.

His course was rough and toilsome in the extreme. Swamps, bogs, thick ferns, dense underbrush, tangled alders, fallen forest trees, huge rocks, all came by turns before his path, and all had by turns to be passed through or surmounted. Paul's city life had not fitted him for a task like this; but despair gave him strength.

Hours passed. Every hour brought fresh difficulties. His strength and resolution gradually gave way. No signs of escape had shown themselves. No sounds had come to his ears which promised help. He felt himself alone; alone to struggle with his dismal fate.

At last he reached rising ground. Here the woods were clear. The trees stood far apart, and the walking was easy. Utterly worn out, he toiled on and at length reached the crest of the hill.

Scarcely had he done so than an exclamation burst from him. Immediately below lay a broad sheet of water. He hurried down to the margin, and looked anxiously around in all directions.

There was nothing, however, but a sheet of water surrounded by woods. Whether this was the lake which he had left, or some other one, he could not tell. At any rate he was too fatigued to make any further exertion, so he flung himself upon the ground to rest.

Gradually sleep overtook him, and his slumber was so sound that he actually did not awake till the following day. On rousing himself he heard the birds singing, and felt the fresh, cool air of the morning.

He was very hungry, but felt rested and refreshed, and went at once to examine his position.

From the place where he stood he could see the end of the lake to the right, but on the left the view was impeded by a promontory.

His first effort now was to go to the promontory and examine the other end. The distance was not great, and he soon reached the place.

He looked eagerly down the lake, when, to his unutterable delight, he saw at the lower end the lone cottage to which the boat had carried him the day before.

All was now plain. He had wandered back to the lake blindly, and by such an extraordinary circuit that he had come to the shore about five miles away from the cottage.

He now set forth to work his way back to the cottage. He followed the windings of the shores, keeping the water always in sight. The distance was only five or six miles, but so circuitous was the shore, so full of indentations, and so rough was the way, that it was nearly evening when he reached the cottage.

No one was there when he arrived, but he waited, and at dusk a boat came over the water with Spence and Frank. For a day and a half they had been scouring the woods for him, and Frank, in his despair, did not know what to do. Paul was received as one who had risen from the dead.