“You’re strangers here, I guess,” said a man who had witnessed the whole affair, “or you would know that old fellow never lets a boy get on his back.  He’s well known all over the city for that trick of his.”

George did not recover his spirits during the remainder of the walk, and was very glad to get home to his mother again, and have his poor swelled nose tenderly bathed, and his stained clothes changed.

The next few days were busily employed in buying and packing the things necessary for their future comfort; and Mr. Lee had reason to rejoice that he had so good a counsellor and assistant as Uncle John.  Flour, Indian meal, molasses, pickled pork, sugar and tea, a couple of rifles, powder and shot, axes saws, etc., a plough, spades and hoes, a churn, etc., were the principal items of their purchases; and to convey these, and the boxes they had brought from England, it was necessary to hire one of the long, covered wagons of the country.  Uncle John had already bought, at a great bargain, a pair of fine oxen, and a strong ox-cart.  These were a great acquisition.  Mrs. Lee was anxious to get a cow and some poultry; but her brother advised her to wait, as they would be so great a trouble on the journey, and it was, besides, most probable that they could be procured from their nearest neighbor—­a settler about ten miles from their place.

Early one bright morning, they started for their new home, the wagon taking the lead.  It was drawn by four strong horses, driven by Mr. Jones, from whom it had been hired, and contained the best of the goods:  the beds were arranged on the boxes within, so as to form comfortable seats for Mrs. Lee, Annie, and the two little ones.  The ox-cart followed, guided by Uncle John, assisted by Mr. Lee and Tom, both of whom were desirous to learn the art of ox-driving, of which they were to have so much by-and-by.  The journey was long and wearisome; and it was not until the evening of the fifth day after leaving Cincinnati, that they arrived at Painted Posts—­a village about twenty miles distant from their destination.  From this place the road became almost impassible, and the toil of travelling very disheartening.  They were frequently obliged to make a long circuit to avoid some monster tree which had fallen just across the track, and to ford streams whose stony beds and swift-flowing waters presented a fearful aspect.  Mr Jones the wagoner walked nearly all day at the head of the foremost pair of horses, with his axe in his hand, every now and then taking off a slice of the bark of the trees as he passed.  Annie watched him for some time with great curiosity.

“What can he do it for?” said she to her mother.  “Please ask him, mother?”

“We call it blazing the track, Marm,” replied Mr. Jones to Mrs. Lee’s inquiry.  “You see, in this new country, where there’s no sartain road, we’re obliged to mark the trees as we go, if we want to come back the same way.  Now, these ’ere blazed trees will guide me to Painted Posts without any trouble, when I’ve left you at your place.”