water. It was
probably less than half that distance in a straight line.

"I'm really hungry again in spite of that big breakfast," said Clay.
"Can't we stop and have lunch?"

"I second that," cried Randy.

The others were of the same mind, and as a very pretty spot happened to
come within view about that time, they paddled across to it and landed.

Closer inspection only added to the charms of the place.

It lay on the right shore, at the mouth of a deep, dark ravine. A beach
of smooth pebbles sloped back to a grassy bank three or four feet high,
and on the plateau above were a dozen or more massive girthed pine
trees, whose fragrant needles carpeted the ground. A fair sized brook
gurgled through the center over a bed of mossy stones, and emptied into
the creek.

"We might travel a good many miles and not find such a place as this,"
said Ned. "Suppose we stay here for a day or two. Tomorrow is Sunday
and we would have to stop then anyhow."

This suggestion was adopted without a dissenting word and the boys
became enthusiastic over the prospect. Randy wanted to begin fishing at
once, while Nugget proposed an exploration of the ravine. A few sensible
words from Ned cooled their ardor, and they started in with a will to
arrange the camp.

The tent was staked in a carefully selected spot, and then the canoes
were unloaded and placed on the beach in a row, bottom up, so what
little water was in them might drain out.

While Nugget and Clay carried the provisions and other articles up to
the tent, Ned and Randy washed the dirty dishes of the night before.
Then the blankets were put to air on a stout line stretched between two
trees, and a great heap of firewood was collected.

"That's all for the present," said Ned, as he finished tying the pennant
to the front tent pole. "You can do a little fishing now if you want to.
Don't venture far away from the camp, because I'm going up the ravine to
look for a farmhouse."

Randy declared that he was tired and would rather stay by the tent, so
Nugget and Clay prepared their rods and went down the creek a short
distance to a jutting point of rock. With a diminutive hook they caught
a couple of minnows, which they used for bait.

For a long time their patience was unrewarded, but finally Nugget had a
strike, and after a severe struggle he landed a fine bass that could
not have weighed less than a pound. Clay caught a smaller one, and after
that the fish stopped biting.