At sunset on the sixth day, they found themselves within five miles of the end of the journey, happily without having experienced worse than a good deal of jolting and some occasional frights.  As it was impossible to travel after dark, they camped for the night near a spring on the road side.  A good fire was kindled at the foot of a large tree, the kettle slung over it by the help of three crossed sticks; and while Mrs. Lee and Annie got out the provisions for supper, the men and Tom fed and tethered the horses and oxen close by.  When Mr. Jones had done his part in these duties, he brought from his private stores in the wagon a large bag and a saucepan.

“I reckon I’ll have a mess of hominy to-night,” said he.  “It’s going on five days since I’ve had any.”

“A mess of hominy,” cried Tom; “that does not sound very nice.”

“I guess if you tasted it you’d find it nice,” answered the wagoner.  “You British don’t know anything of the vartues of our corn.”

He poured into the saucepan as he spoke a quantity of the Indian corn grains, coarsely broken, and covering it with water, put it on the fire.  It was soon swelled to twice its former bulk, and looked and smelt very good.  With the addition of a little butter and salt, it made such a “mess of hominy,” as Mr. Jones called it, that few persons would not have relished.  Tom certainly did, as he proved at supper, when the good-natured wagoner invited all to try it.

The meal was a merry one, notwithstanding the fatigue they had all experienced during the hard travel of that day—­the merrier because of their anticipated arrival on the morrow at their future home.  They all talked of it, wondering where they should build their house—­by the river (for Uncle John had told them there was one near) or by the wood?  Tom wished for the first, as he thought what fine fishing he might have at any hour; but Annie preferred the shade of the trees.

“Oh! father,” cried she, “I hope there will be as many flowers as I saw to-day on the road.  Such beautiful Rhododendrons! a whole hill covered with them, all in blossom!  And did you see the yellow butterflies?  Mother and I first noticed them when they were resting on a green bank, and we thought they were primroses until they rose and fluttered off.”

“I tell you what, Annie,” said Tom, “you’ll have to keep a good look-out after your chickens.  There are plenty of hawks about here.  I saw one this afternoon pounce down on a squirrel, and he was carrying it off, when I shouted with all my might, and he let it drop.”

“Oh, Tom! was it hurt?”

“Not it! but hopped away as if nothing had happened.”

“You must learn to use your rifle, Tom,” remarked Uncle John; “you’ll find it very necessary, as well as useful, in the woods.”

“Well, uncle, I’ll promise you a dish of broiled squirrels before October of my own shooting!  I intend to practice constantly, if father will let me.”