ine was ready to start
Short and light as it was, that train had to be drawn by two puffing,
snorting engines, for the rest of the trip was a climb, and a stiff
one, since Long Lake was fairly high, up, though the train, after it
passed the station nearest to the lake, would climb a good deal higher.

Even after they left the train finally, they were still some distance
from their destination.

"You needn't look at that buckboard as if you were going to ride in it,
girls," said Eleanor, laughing, as they surveyed the single vehicle that
was waiting near the track. "That's just for the baggage. Now you can
see, maybe, why you were told you couldn't bring many things with you.
And if that isn't enough, wait until you see the trail!"

Soon all the baggage was stowed away on the back of the buckboard and
securely tied up, and then the driver whipped up the stocky horses, and
drove off, while the girls gave him the Wohelo cheer.

"But how are we going to get to Long Lake?" asked Dolly, apprehensively.

"We're going to walk!" laughed Eleanor. "Come on now or we won't get
there in time for supper--and I'll bet we'll all have a fine appetite
for supper to-night!"

Then she took the van, and led the way across a field and into the woods
that grew thickly near the track.

"This isn't the way the buckboard went!" said Dolly.

"No--We'll strike the road pretty soon, though," said Eleanor. "We save
a little time by taking this trail. In the old days there wasn't any way
to get to the lake, or to carry anything there, except by walking. And
when they built the corduroy road they couldn't make it as short as the
trail, although, wherever they could they followed the old trail. So
this is a sort of short cut."

"What's a corduroy road?" asked Dolly.

"Don't you know that? I thought you knew something about the woods,
Dolly. My, what a lot you've got to learn. It's made of logs and they're
built in woods and places where it's hard to make a regular road, or
would cost too much. All that's needed, you see, is to chop down trees
enough to make a clear path, and then to put down the logs, close
together. It's rough going, and no wagon with springs can be driven over
it, but it's all right for a buckboard."

"Ugh!" said Dolly. "I should think it would shake you to pieces."

"It does, pretty nearly," said Eleanor, with a smile. "One usually only
rides over one once--after that one walks, and is glad of the chance."

When, afte