without injury. The dishes were nested as well as possible. Then
all were stowed away in the pack bags, together with the food supplies.
The two blankets were tightly folded and tied, ready to be slung over the
shoulders. Long before that last session of school, everything was in
readiness. When finally that last session was over, the two lads had only
to strap their packs on their backs, sling their blankets into place, and
pick up their little fishing-rods, unjointed and compactly packed in cloth
cases. Lew buckled the pistol to his belt and suspended the canteen from
his shoulder, while Charley sheathed his little axe and hung it on his
hip. Then, completely ready, the two lads waved farewell to their envious
comrades and hastened away to the train. In less than an hour the train
stopped to let them off at the little flag-station at the foot of Stone
Mountain. In a moment more it had gone whistling around the shoulder of
the hill, leaving the two boys alone on the edge of the wilderness.

Quickly they adjusted their packs and started back along the
railroad-track toward the gap through which they were to pass to Old
Ironsides. Rapidly they made their way along the road-bed.

"We'd better hustle while the going's good," commented Lew, glancing at
the heavy clouds that obscured the sun, "for it will get dark early
to-night. It'll be slow enough going once we leave the track."

"There's one thing sure," replied Charley. "We won't be bothered with wet
ground. I think I never saw the earth so dry at this season of the year.
There was almost no snow last winter and we've hardly had a rain this
spring. Usually it rains every day at this time of year."

Charley's prediction proved true. When the boys at last reached the notch
in the mountains and left the railroad-track, they found the way almost as
dry as a village street. Years before, the timber had been cut from Stone
Mountain, and a logging trail had passed up the very gap through which the
boys were now traveling. But brush and brambles had come in soon after the
lumbermen left and now a thick stand of saplings also helped to choke the
path. The briars tore at the boys' clothing and blankets. The bushy
growths caught in their packs and straps and wrapped themselves about
their feet and legs. Very quickly it became evident that a hard struggle
lay before them.

Back from the trail, in the forest proper, there was little underbrush,
but the stand of young trees was d