"He is out in the lot, falling trees," said the boy.

"How far is it from here?" asked Jonas.

"O, about a good half mile."

"Which way?" said Jonas.

"Out yonder," said the boy; and he pointed back of the house, where a rough sled-road led into the woods. "You can hear his axe."

Jonas listened, and he heard distinctly the sound of an axe in the woods behind; presently it ceased. Immediately after, there was a prolonged crash, which echoed back from the mountains.

"There goes a tree," said the boy.

Jonas was sorry to have to leave Oliver so long, but he wished to persevere until he should find the man, as he knew that the farmer was very desirous of having the business done that day. So he told the boy that he believed he would go and see if he could find Mr. Woodman; and then he set off in the direction which the boy had indicated.

This road was so sheltered by the woods, that the snow was not much drifted; and, besides, it had been kept open by the teams, which had been employed in hauling out pine logs. When Jonas got in to the end of the road, he heard the strokes of the axe, at a short distance on the right.

He looked that way, and found that the man was standing at the foot of a tall tree, of very large size; and he was cutting through the trunk of it, about two feet from the top of the snow. He saw that it was nearly off, and so he thought he would wait a moment, where he was, and see it fall. He observed that Mr. Woodman occasionally looked up the stem of the tree, between the strokes of his axe, as if to see whether it was beginning to fall.

After a few strokes more, he stepped back from the foot of the tree to one side. Jonas wondered why he left his work before the tree fell. He looked up to the top of it, and he perceived that it was moving. It was bending over very slowly indeed. It moved, however, faster and faster, and presently began to come tearing down between the branches of the other trees, and, at length, descended with a mighty crash to the ground. Jonas thought that it was a very fine spectacle indeed. He wished that Oliver had been there to see it.

Jonas then went to Mr. Woodman, and transacted his business successfully, according to the farmer's directions. Then he turned around, and began to walk back, as fast as he could go.

"I am afraid," said he to himself, "that Oliver is almost out of patience waiting for me."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER X.

A SURPRISE

Jonas walked on until he came out of the woods, at the house where he had seen the boy cut wood. As he approached the place, he saw that the boy was there still; but there was a man with him. The man had a goad-stick in his hand.

"He is driving a team somewhere," said Jonas to himself. "I wonder where his oxen are."

A moment afterwards, Jonas came in sight of the oxen, which were in the road, having been hid from his view before, by the wood pile.

The man and the boy looked at Jonas, as he walked towards them. The man smiled a little, as if he knew Jonas; but Jonas thought that he had never seen him before.

"Well, Jonas," said the man, "did you find Mr. Woodman?"

"Yes, sir," replied Jonas. He wondered how the man happened to know his name.

"I'm glad of it," said he; "and you'd better make haste back. Rollo is almost tired of waiting for you."

"Oliver, you mean," said Jonas.

"No," said the man,--"Rollo; he said his name was Rollo."

"Rollo?" said Jonas; "his name is Oliver. I don't see what made him tell you that his name was Rollo."

So saying, Jonas walked thoughtfully away, wondering what this could mean. He had never known Oliver to do any such thing before. Oliver, he thought, would not tell a falsehood on any account. He was not inclined to say any thing of that kind by way of jest. He was a very sober and sedate, as well as honest boy. Besides, he could not think what should have put Rollo into Oliver's head. He did not recollect that he had said any thing of Rollo for a long time. In fact, he had seldom told Oliver any thing about him; and what could have induced him to call himself Rollo, he could not conceive.

However, he had nothing to do but to go on, for the more he attempted to imagine some explanation of the mystery, the more he was puzzled.

So he walked on as diligently as he could.

He came, at length, in sight of the spot where he had left the horse and Oliver. The horse was there, but Oliver was not to be seen.

"He has got tired of waiting, and has gone away," said Jonas; "or perhaps he is playing about near."

This last supposition was pretty soon, for a moment, confirmed; for Jonas saw, very soon after, a boy's head on the bank of the brook, at a little distance below.

"There he is now," said Jonas to himself. "No, it isn't he. That boy isn't dressed like Oliver. I wonder who it is."

The boy had a long pole in his hand, and was pushing cakes of ice with it. He was so intent upon this amus.e.m.e.nt, that at first he did not see Jonas; but, presently, looking up, his eye suddenly caught a view of Jonas, coming, and he instantly dropped his pole, and ran towards him, shouting,--

"Jonas!"

"Why, Rollo!" exclaimed Jonas, in his turn. "How came you to be here?"

It was Rollo, indeed. Jonas was astonished. He could scarcely believe his senses. "Is it possible that this is you?" said he.

"Yes," said Rollo, laughing with great delight, "I believe it is."

"And how came you here? I left Oliver here an hour ago, little thinking that he would turn into Rollo while I was gone."

"Oliver?" said Rollo, "who is Oliver?"

"Why, don't you know Oliver?" said Jonas. "He is the farmer's son. He came with me, and I left him here to the care of the sleigh. Haven't you seen any thing of him?"

"No," replied Rollo, "nothing; there was n.o.body here when I came."

"What can have become of him, then?" said Jonas. "I hope he is not lost in the woods."

So saying, Jonas began to call aloud, "Oliver! Oliver!" But no Oliver answered.

"Let us see if we can find any tracks," said he; and he and Rollo began to look about for tracks.

"What's this?" said Rollo, looking down intently upon the snow, pretty near where the horse had been tied.

"Any tracks?" said Jonas.

"No," said Rollo, "but some writing in the snow."

So Rollo began to read the writing in a slow manner, as he walked along from one word to another; for, the letters being large, the sentence extended quite a distance from where it first attracted his attention.

He read as follows:--