s he had read, and the dreams he had had of sometime
being free from care and free from toil, far in the wilderness.

"I wish I could do this all the time," he said to Milton, who was
looking at the fire, his chin resting in his palms.

"I can tell better after a week of it," retorted Milton.

To a boy like Lincoln or Rance, that evening was worth the whole
journey, that strange, delicious hour in the deepening darkness, when
everything seemed of some sweet, remembered far-off world--they were in
truth living as their savage ancestry lived, close to nature's mystery.

The pensiveness did not prevent Milton from hitting Bert a tremendous
slap with a boot-leg, saying, "Hello! that mosquito pretty near had you
that time."

And Bert, familiar with Milton's pranks, turned upon him, and a rough
and tumble tussle went on till Rance cried out: "Look out there! You'll
be tippin' over my butter!"

At last the rustle of the leaves over their heads died out in dreams
and the boys fell asleep, deliciously tired, full of plans for the next
day.

Morning dawned, cool and bright, and Bert was stirring before sunrise.
Rance was out in the boat before the pink had come upon the lake, while
Milton was "skirmishing" for some milk.

How delicious that breakfast! Newly fried perch, new milk with bread
and potatoes from home--but the freedom, the strange familiarity of it
all! There in the dim, sweet woods, with the smoke curling up into the
leafy masses above, the sunlight just dropping upon the lake, the
killdee, the robin, and the blue jay crying in the still, cool morning
air. This was indeed life. The hot cornfields were far away.

Breakfast having been eaten to the last scrap of fish, they made a rush
for the lake and the boat. There it lay, moving a little on the light
waves, a frail little yellow craft without keel or rudder, but
something to float in, anyhow. There rippled the lake six miles long,
cool and sparkling, and boats were getting out into the mid-water like
huge "skimmer-bugs,"[105-1] carrying fisherman to their tasks.

While the other boys fished for perch and bass for dinner, Lincoln
studied the shore. The beach which was their boat-landing was made up
of fine, varicolored bowlders, many of them round as cannon balls, and
Lincoln thought of the thousands of years they been rolling and
grinding there, rounding each other and polishing each other till they
glistened like garnets and rubies. And then the sand!