A Colonial Wooing
dog, moved by John's earnestness, gave a low, quick bark. "That is as much like 'yes' as 'no,' so I'll have to hunt up some witch of the woods to tell me my fortune. Come along!" And with the dog running ahead and sniffing at every tree where a squirrel or opossum might be hiding, John walked on and on, following the winding bluff that overlooked the meadows and creek until he came to the three big beeches where the single Indian family of the immediate neighborhood, an old basket-maker and his squaw, had their wigwam. There was no one about, and John sat at the foot of the largest of the three great trees, and looked out over the meadows and beyond them to the river. A boat with hoisted sail was just entering the creek, and another, heading for Philadelphia, was also well in view. "How this wilderness is changing!" remarked John to himself, as he looked about. "Every month brings newcomers, and they do not all remain in the settlements, but keep pushing farther and farther out into the back country. There is every reason to be hopeful; and what if I
82
