A small apartment, walled with rough logs, and blackened by smoke. A substantial fire burns in an uncouth but serviceable fireplace, and a man reclines on the puncheons in the ruddy blaze. His sole companion is a huge yellow dog of the mastiff species; and his master's long black locks rest upon his shaggy coat. It is nine o'clock at night, and the moon shines in an unclouded firmament. Not a sound disturbs the stillness of the wood; but just at the edge of the meager clearing that lies before the cabin, a little river flows northward with a low noise, for it is almost bank full. Man and dog are wide awake; the former gazes into the fire, the latter looks up into the hard, sunbrowned face. The master is a great, strong man, whose looks, physique and voice, when he speaks, indicates a long frontier life. He is perhaps three and forty years of age. Some would say that he is fifty; but people must not judge age by certain crows-feet on the brow; troubles make young men old. His occupation is revealed by a quantity of animal traps lying in one corner of the room, and suspended from a rafter overhead hangs a bundle of skins, ready for the market at Fort Sandusky. But he rises and looks at the dog, who bristles up and runs to the door, protected by a strong oaken plank. "What is it, Yellow Dick?" asks the trapper, standing beside his companion, rifle in hand, and peering into the moonlight through a crevice between two logs. "I would hev sworn that I heard the voice of a man; but—" He paused abruptly, for Yellow Dick had suddenly pricked his long ears anew, and the trapper began to unbarricade the door. "'Tis old Johnny, Dick, as sure as death," he said, glancing at the mastiff while he worked at his plank. "He hasn't been this way for a three month. Mebbe he brings news from the seat of war." The dog seemed to understand the man, for his fierceness abated, and he stepped from the portal. "There! I knew it was Johnny Appleseed," the trapper said triumphantly, as he opened the cabin door, and let a flood of moonlight into the dingy room. "Here he comes, down the river. What's that he's saying, Dick?" The speaker leaned forward and caught these words uttered in a melodious voice: "The spirit of the Lord is upon me, and he hath anointed me to blow the trumpet in the wilderness and sound the alarm in the forest: for behold the tribes of the heathen are round about your door, and a devouring flame followeth after them." The herald of danger stood near the edge of the water, and looked like some wild being from spirit-land. "Old Johnny means somethin'; somethin's gone wrong somewhar," cried the trapper, becoming excited, and then in a louder tone he spoke the singular cognomen of the man of the wilderness—"Johnny Appleseed!"
