ooked the
older of the two, although his companion was fully as tall and strong.
Standing together, they made a good "specimen pair" of vigorous,
bright-eyed, self-reliant youngsters.

In three minutes more Mr. Jones and his pony and his buckboard were out
of sight among the trees, and Sid and Wade were left to their own
resources.

It was seven miles due south, and a good deal longer by the road, to the
nearest clearing, and all to the north of them was wilderness--woods,
lakes, and mountains.

"Now, Wade, how'll we divide the load? There's a heap of it."

"Guess we won't divide it. I'll show you--here's the hatchet."

"Go ahead. I'm a greenhorn yet. What are you going to do?"

Wade was too busy to answer, but he quickly had a pair of very slender
ash saplings hacked down, trimmed clean, and laid side by side about two
feet apart. To these he tied a couple of cross-sticks, six feet from
each other. Then he spread his blanket on the ground, laid the frame in
the middle, folded the blanket across, and pinned it firmly.

"Looks like a litter," said Sid.

"That's what it is. Put the tin box of hard-tack in the middle. It's the
heaviest thing we've got; weighs ten pounds. Now the bacon; that only
weighs five. Now the other things. The guns ain't loaded; lay 'em along
the sides. And the fishing-rods. Now we're ready."

One boy in front between the poles, and one behind, and it was a
pleasant surprise to Sid to find how easy it worked. Still, it was a
dreadfully long and warm mile and a half over that rough forest path
before they came out on the slope that led down to the blue waters of
Pot Lake.

"It's just beautiful," said Sid, as they set down their load for a rest
and a look.

"Hist! Let me get my gun."

A cartridge was slipped in like a flash; and then there came another
flash, and a report.

"Thought you said it was unsportsmanlike to kill a partridge sitting?"

"So it is, my boy; but it's a question of dinner. Our breakfast was an
early one. Look at 'em, will you?"

Sid was looking, and there was a very strong suggestion of dinner in
that pair of barely full-grown young birds. Fat, plump, the very thing
for a boy whose breakfast had been eaten early. There was a sort of
natural "open" on that side of the little lake, and Wade led the way
straight to it.

"Just as I expected. The old shanty's knocked all to pieces. The boards
and the nails are there, though. They may be good for something."

"Wha