urned to death! It made me shudder to think of it. Well, our
hut was burned. What next? That was the question put before the society.

[Illustration: Bill Gets Tangled up with His Skis.]

[Illustration: Warming the Lunch on a Cold Day.]

"Might build a snow hut," suggested Dutchy.

"Now, be sensible," answered Reddy. "We can't build a snow hut in five
minutes."

"The best plan," I volunteered, "would be to go over to Jim Halliday's
and ask him to let us sleep in his barn."

Immediately the suggestion was acted upon.

A FRIEND IN TIME OF TROUBLE.

Old Jim Halliday greeted us very gruffly. He said he wouldn't have us in
his barn. "You'll be amussin' up the hay so't wouldn't be fit fer the
horses to eat. Any boy that is fool enough to build a fire on a straw
bed ought to go right home to his mother, and he hadn't oughter be
trusted with matches, nuther. He might get his fingers burned."

But I caught a twinkle in the old man's eyes and wasn't surprised to
have him end his lecture by taking us into the kitchen and seating us
around an old-fashioned log fire while "Marthy," his daughter, made us
some hot coffee to take the chill out of our bones. We didn't sleep in
the barn that night. The Hallidays had only one spare bed, hardly enough
for six boys, and the old man didn't want to be partial to any two of
us, but his daughter solved the difficulty by dragging down two large
feather mattresses and laying them on the kitchen floor in front of the
hearth.

Before bidding us "good night," Mr. Halliday put on his sternest
expression and bade Marthy clear out all the matches from the room.

"Jest as like as not they'll set fire to the house," he growled. "I
expect this is my last night on airth." And then, with a solemn warning
not to hang our clothes on the flames, and to "keep them feather beds
offen the embers," he left us to a comfortable night's rest.

In the morning, after we had disposed of all the hot griddle cakes we
could eat, and had sincerely thanked our host and hostess for their
hospitality, we wended our way back to the island, silently packed up
our goods and started home for Lamington.

"Well, this isn't going to happen again," was Bill's comment. "Next year
we'll have a log cabin on the island."

[Illustration: Fast Asleep in a Sleeping Bag.]

[Illustration: How the Pack Harness was Worn.]

CHAPTER XVIII.

TRAMPING OUTFITS.

Our winter expedition to Willow Clump Island filled us wi