Like the fate which attends us all, the
foliage had assumed the paleness of death; and the winds, cold and damp,
were sighing among the branches of the trees; and causing every other
feeling rather than that of comfort. Four others and myself had been out
hunting during the day, and we returned at nightfall tired and hungry to
our camp. The shades of night were fast gathering around us; but, being
protected by our camp, with a blazing fire in front, we soon succeeded
in cooking some of the game we had shot during the day; and as we ate,
the old hunters, who were my companions grew garrulous, and in turn
related their numerous adventures. "You have lived in Dayton for some
time," said an old hunter, addressing one of his companions. "Have you
ever seen during your rambles the remains of a log cabin about two miles
down the Miami Canal?" "I recollect it well, but there is a mystery
attached to those ruins which no one living can solve. The oldest
settlers found that cabin there; and it _then_ appeared in such a
dilapidated state as to justify the belief that it had been built many
years previous." "Do you know any thing about it?" I eagerly asked. "I
know all about it," replied the old hunter; "for I assisted in building
it, and occupied it for several years, during the trapping season.
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