Part 7 (2/2)

Big Bertha looked at him with a funny expression. ”Sure,” he said. ”Try it, after you've got your tent up! Oh, and say, look out for porcupines at night, boys.”

Only a few feet beyond the tepees the heavy woods began, not high woods, but a thick stand of fir about thirty or forty feet tall. The scouts took the tent and baggage in far enough to be out of sight of the camp, and screened from the view of the hotel across the lake, but still close to the sh.o.r.e. They found a dry, well-drained, level spot, threw a rope over it from tree to tree, and slung the tent. Then they cut pegs, fastened it down, set up their cots inside, and while Joe was making the beds, Spider hauled a lot of rocks up from the edge of the lake and built a fire pit.

”I s'pose it's going to rain sometimes,” he said. ”We ought to have a shelter over the kitchen.”

”Don't look now as if it ever rained here,” Joe answered, from the tent.

”I'll build a lean-to over the kitchen while you're running the camp.

Gosh, I'm goin' to feel like an awful grafter, just doing nothing, while you're working all the time.”

”Aw, cut it out,” Tom answered. ”You'll be cooking for me, won't you?

You're my housekeeper. I'm going to call you wifey.”

”If you do, I'll put chestnut burrs in your bed,” Joe laughed.

”Where are you going to get the chestnuts?” asked Tom. ”I don't see anything around here but evergreen. Come to think of it, I've not seen a single hardwood all day.”

”Golly, that's so,” Joe answered. ”I don't believe I have. It's going to be hard cooking with nothing but pine. How's a feller going to get a bed of coals?”

”I guess he isn't. But I'll see what can be done.”

Tom went into the woods with one of the axes, while Joe busied himself about camp, making a shelf on a tree for the provisions, getting the trunks stowed away under the cots, rigging up a rough table out of two pieces of board he went back to the tepee camp and hunted up, and planning for a lean-to to be built later as a shelter while cooking.

Tom came back presently, his arms loaded with dry wood.

”All soft,” he said, stacking it near the fire-pot. ”There's not a hardwood in the forest anywhere. Come on, now, we've got to get a supply cut for the camp, in case anybody comes. If they don't come, we can cook on the stove there, I guess. It'll be easier than here.”

”And not so much fun,” said Joe.

The two boys worked industriously for the next hour, Tom doing the heavy chopping, and got a good pile of wood stacked up beside the stove in the camp. It was nearly five o'clock now, and still no one had appeared, so they went back to their tent, being hot and tired, put on a set of summer underclothes for bathing suits, and ran down to the lake. The bottom dropped away rather gradually, over rough stones, so they could not dive. Tom was the first in. He went in up to his knees, and emitted a yell that echoed from the wall of pines across the water.

”Wow!” he cried, ”sufferin' snakes!”

”Is it cold?” said Joe, still standing on the sh.o.r.e.

”Oh, no, it ain't cold! Oh, no, it's warm as a hot potato!”

Spider took another step forward and slipped into a hole nearly up to his waist, lost his balance, and went under. He came up spitting water, and made a wild leap for the sh.o.r.e.

”You keep out o' this, Joe,” he spluttered. ”It's too cold for you to go in. Talk about glacier water--not for me!”

”I want to try it,” pleaded Joe.

”No, you don't!”--and Spider grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back.

As Tom peeled off his suit and reached for a towel, Joe ran for their little camp mirror.

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