egged to be
allowed to carry his old Marlin shotgun, under the plea that they might
run across some ferocious animal like a wildcat, or a skunk, and would
find a good use for the reliable firearm; but the scoutmaster had set
his foot down firmly there.

But they would have to make numerous fires while on the way, and a
little hatchet was apt to come in very handy.

And the feel of it in his belt had given Paul his idea about "blazing"
the trees just as soon as they no longer had the trapper's path to serve
them as a guide against their return.

It is a very easy thing to make a trail in this way; only care must
always be taken to make the slices, showing the white wood underneath
the bark, on that side of the tree most likely to be seen by the
returning pilgrim. Great loss of time must result if one always had to
go behind every tree in order to find the blaze that had been so
carefully given, not to mention the chances of becoming confused, and
eventually completely turned around.

That path twisted and turned in the most amazing and perplexing manner
possible.

Although Paul had purposely warned the boys to try and keep tabs of the
points of the compass as they passed along, in less than ten minutes
after striking the swamp proper it is doubtful whether one of them could
have told correctly just where the north lay, if asked suddenly; though
by figuring it out, looking at the sun, and all that, they might have
replied with a certain amount of accuracy after a while.

But then they felt sure Paul knew; and somehow or other they had always
been in the habit of relying on the scoutmaster to do some of their
thinking for them--a bad habit it is, too, for any boys to let
themselves fall into, and one that Paul often took them to task for.
They would cheerfully admit the folly of such a course, and promise to
reform, yet on the next occasion it would be the same old story of
depending on Paul.

"Path seems to be petering out a heap, Paul," remarked Seth, when
another little time had crept along, and they had penetrated still
deeper into the swamp, with a very desolate scene all around them, water
surrounding many of the trees that grew there with swollen boles, such
as always seems to be the case where they exist in swampy regions.

"Yes, I was thinking that myself," replied the other; "and it's about
time for me to begin using my little hatchet, even if I don't happen to
be George Washington."

"Let's stop for