ck to England?" asked Doc, when the
order of march was changed, young Farrar and the Sinclairs turning out
to do their share of tramping, while the doctor, Cyrus, and the guides
benefited by "a lift."

"I rather think I can," answered Neal; "but goodness! I feel as if there
were aches and bruises all over me. Once or twice my head seemed jumping
straight off my shoulders. No more going in a wagon over corduroy roads
for me! I'd rather be leg-weary any day."

The travellers halted that evening about five o'clock on the banks of a
lonely stream. The guides pitched the two tents--Joe had provided one
for his party--facing each other on a patch of clearing, with a space of
about fifteen feet between them, in the centre of which blazed a roaring
camp-fire. Now all the axes and knifes among the band were in demand for
cutting and sharpening stakes and ridge-poles on which to stretch their
canvas.

Moreover, no evergreen boughs could be procured for beds; and the boys
had to work with a will, helping Uncle Eb and Joe to cut bundles of the
long, rank grass that grew by the water to form a bed for their tired
bodies.

Every one was camp-hungry, as they had not halted for a meal since
leaving the settlement. After a splendid supper of venison, broiled
over sizzling logs, bread, and fried potatoes,--for they had added to
their stores at the farm,--they had a glorious social hour by the
camp-fire. Joe got off any amount of "ripping" stories; and the sound of
many a jolly chorus, led by Cyrus, and swelled by the musical efforts of
the entire crew, mingled with the lonely rustle of the night wind among
faded and drifting leaves.

When Doc's summons came to turn in, they stretched themselves upon the
grassy beds, not undressing, as the night was chilly and the temporary
quarters were not so snug as their previous ones. Still in their warm
jerseys, trousers, woollen stockings, and knitted caps, with the heat
from the piled-up camp-fire streaming under the raised flaps of the
tents, they slept as cosily as if they lay on spring mattresses,
surrounded by pictured walls.

CHAPTER XI.

BEAVER WORKS.

About noon on the following day they were obliged to bid farewell to Lin
Hathaway, his wagon and horses, as the logging-road went no farther. The
young settler turned homeward rather regretfully. It might be many
months again before he got a chance of talking to anybody beyond his
father and mother, and the boys had brought