old-time limits of the
water. As night began to fall, it seemed they had been a week on the
way.

At last, just as the sun was setting, they saw a dark belt of woods
ahead of them and came to a narrow river, which the farmers said was
the outlet of the lake. They pushed on faster, for the roads were
better, and just at dusk they drove into the little village street
which led down to the lake, to which their hungry eyes went out first
of all.

How glorious it looked, with its waves lapping the gravelly beach, and
the dark groves of trees standing purple-black against the orange sky.
They sat and gazed at it for several minutes without saying a word.
Finally Rance said, with a sigh, "Oh, wouldn't I like to jump into that
water!"

"Well, this won't do. We must get a camp," said Milton; and they pulled
the team into a road leading along the east shore of the lake.

"Where can a fellow camp?" Bert called to a young man who met them,
with a pair of oars on his back.

"Anywhere down in the woods." He pointed to the south.

They soon reached a densely wooded shore where no one stood guard, and
drove along an old wood road to a superb camping-place near the lake
shore under a fine oak grove.

"Whoa!" yelled Milton.

All hands leaped out. Milton and Lincoln took care of the horses. Bert
seized an axe and chopped on one side of two saplings, bent them
together, tied them, cleared away the brush around them, and with
Rance's help drew the tent cloth over them--this was the camp! While
they dug up the bedding and put it in place, Rance built a fire and set
some coffee boiling.

By the time they sat down to eat their bread and coffee and cold
chicken, the grove was dark. The smoke rose in a billowy mass,
vanishing in the dark, cool shadows of the oaks above. A breeze was
rising. Below them they could hear the lap of the waves on the
bowlders. It was all so fine, so enjoyable, that it seemed a dream from
which they were in danger of waking.

After eating, they all took hold of the boat and eased it down the bank
into the water.

"Now, who's goin' to catch the fish for breakfast?" asked Bert.

"I will," replied Rance, who was a "lucky" fisherman. "I'll have some
fish by sun-up--see if I don't."

Their beds were hay, with abundant quilts and blankets spread above,
and as Lincoln lay looking out of the tent door at the smoke curling
up, hearing the horses chewing and an owl hooting, it seemed gloriously
like the storie