logs was enough for one time; he must shove right over to town and sell.  So he locked me in and took the skiff, and started off towing the raft about half-past three.  I judged he wouldn't come back that night.  I waited till I reckoned he had got a good start; then I out with my saw, and went to work on that log again.  Before he was t'other side of the river I was out of the hole; him and his raft was just a speck on the water away off yonder. I took the sack of corn meal and took it to where the canoe was hid, and shoved the vines and branches apart and put it in; then I done the same with the side of bacon; then the whisky-jug.  I took all the coffee and sugar there was, and all the ammunition; I took the wadding; I took the bucket and gourd; I took a dipper and a tin cup, and my old saw and two blankets, and the skillet and the coffee-pot.  I took fish-lines and matches and other things--everything that was worth a cent.  I cleaned out the place.  I wanted an axe, but there wasn't any, only the one out at the woodpile, and I knowed why I was going to leave that.  I fetched out the gun, and now I was done. I had wore the ground a good deal crawling out of the hole and dragging out so many things.  So I fixed that as good as I could from the outside by scattering dust on the place, which covered up the smoothness and the sawdust.  Then I fixed the piece of log back into its place, and put two rocks under it and one against it to hold it there, for it was bent up at that place and didn't quite touch ground.  If you stood four or five foot away and didn't know it was sawed, you wouldn't never notice it; and besides, this was the back of the cabin, and it warn't likely anybody would go fooling around there. It was all grass clear to the canoe, so I hadn't left a track.  I followed around to see.  I stood on the bank and looked out over the river.  All safe.  So I took the gun and went up a piece into the woods, and was hunting around for some birds when I see a