Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

OUR SPRINGTIME iii
into the troughs at long intervals and at last cease. This was
a signal to cover the fire and leave the camp until another
freeze — there was nothing else to do but to take what water
we had boiled down and start for home. Again would come
a hard rain and fill our troughs with water, spoiling the sap
which had already collected there so we would have to turn
over the troughs till the rain had stopped.
One time, rather late, we had a fine freeze and a great run
of sugar water; it dropped down from the spiles in almost a
stream, keeping us each busy every moment, as we had to boil
the sap down rapidly in order to keep from loss. When night
came we must have had two pails of almost molasses. We
had worked so hard all day that I suppose we were too tired
when night came to carry it home, so we left it in a sheltered
place in the camp until morning. When we hastened back
early to complete our work, we found that the neighbor boys
who had been scouting around on the day of the good run had
discovered our syrup in the camp and had enjoyed a fine sugar-
ing oft while we were asleep. This was the greater disappointment,
as spring was at hand and swelhng buds told us that the
season for making good syrup was over; all we could do was
to turn our troughs over and take the kettle and mother's
crocks and pans home with very sore young feelings, and
though the years have come and gone and brought far greater
disappointments, yet the memory of this one pricks me still.
Cook's Woods was one of the favorite playgrounds of our
childhood. It took its name from the owner of that fine strip
of native forest two miles long by about three miles wide. In
the center of its deep shade a woodman had built a cabin and
had begun to cut and cord wood for market; this small opening
was the only one in all this dark old forest. One of the
pleasures of our brother Joe and of us two sisters was to go
exploring in Cook's Woods in springtime with some of our
young friends. I remember we were always hunting for new
flowers. On one of these occasions when Ida and I were alone,
we strayed a little too far from the usual path and found our-
selves in a new and strange part of the woods. We had entirely
lost our bearings and were out of sight of an opening