"Do C - -, give us one or
two of the cakes your mother put into the bag for us to eat upon the
road."
The ginger-cakes were instantly produced. But where were the teeth
to be found that could masticate them? The cakes were frozen as hard
as stones; this was a great disappointment to us tired and hungry
wights; but it only produced a hearty laugh. Over the logs we went
again; for it was a perpetual stepping up and down, crossing the
fallen trees that obstructed our path. At last we came to a spot
where two distinct blazed roads diverged.
"What are we to do now?" said Mr. T - -.
We stopped, and a general consultation was held, and without one
dissenting voice we took the branch to the right, which, after
pursuing for about half a mile, led us to a log hut of the rudest
description.
"Is this the road to Dummer?" we asked a man, who was chopping wood
outside the fence.
"I guess you are in Dummer," was the answer.
My heart leaped for joy, for I was dreadfully fatigued.
"Does this road lead through the English Line?"
"That's another thing," returned the woodman. "No, you turned off
from the right path when you came up here." We all looked very blank
at each other.
