right of the trail, where a great,
lone pine tree stood on a little rise of ground, directly above the tiny
spring. This was to be the camping spot for the night. Packs were quickly
removed and unfolded, dry sticks gathered for the fire, and sweet-scented
balsam boughs were cut and brought to the tree. One generous bed was
made, big enough for all, close in front of the camp-fire. Mr. Allen
cleaned and filled his small acetylene lamp--"In case of need," he said.
The guns were stacked in a handy place and supper operations gotten under
way.

"It sure does smell awfully good up here," began Phil. "I wish we had
gotten here before dark--I'd like to have had a little look around before
I went to sleep. Who knows but we may be sleeping ten yards from a bear's
den. We are up in a real wilderness, now!"

"Bears, your grandmother!" snorted Ham, as he deftly opened a can of
baked beans with his pocket knife. "A lot of great big bare spots is
about all you could find. Say, Phil, on the dead square, what would you
do, now, if a black bear would sneak down here to-night and crawl into
bed with you?" "I'd say, 'Mr. Bear, if you want a real sweet, tender
morsel that's easily digested, just help yourself to that little imported
Ham over there.'" A roar of laughter went up from the others.

Chuck was philosophizing about the value of gathering food while it was
yet day, as he sat stowing away his quart of fresh raspberries.

"You can have all you want of them," retorted Mr. Allen. "I'm seedy
enough now, without eating those things."

"What's the matter, Willis? Did we walk you too hard?" inquired Fat.

"No, I could walk a hundred miles yet to-night," replied Willis, as he
sliced up his bacon preparatory to frying it. "But this has been a very
wonderful day for me. It's all so new, you know, and I'm green, too.
Besides, it all has a very special significance to me, some way. I love
it. I like it better than anything in the world. I could live this way
forever. I'm sure I could write poetry to-night, or paint a great
picture, or even sing. It's a wonderful feeling. Did you ever feel that
way? It's the charm of the great out-of-doors."

"I think we had better picket Willis to-night," dryly remarked Ham. "He's
liable to be floating off in his enthusiasm. But if he happens to be
fortunate enough to lie on a friendly pine knot all night, he'll feel
differently in the morning."

So the merry talk went on. After supper bigger logs were