although by now it had become an old story, they enjoyed it as much as
ever, even if their former sensation of awe had given way to one of
familiarity.

They could see the entire outlines of beautiful Lake Sunrise, with its
many coves, and points jutting out, the water glistening in the
sunlight, as the morning breeze fanned it gently.

Why, yes, there was the little lake steamboat called the Mermaid,
passing along the northern border of the lake, on the way between the
town of Cranford, on the shore opposite Bloomsbury, and headed toward a
small lumbering camp far up the left bank, possibly to deliver supplies,
after which she would point her nose down toward the home town, which
was of more importance than any other station on Lake Sunrise.

The boys did look back, dear though the scenes around home must ever be
for them. It was characteristic of these lads that once they put their
shoulder to the wheel, or in other words, their hand to the plow, they
would not allow themselves to be discouraged by thoughts of the home
ties. That accounted for much of the success that had been their portion
in the past. They could for the time being forget that there was any
such place as home; and in this way they avoided the weakness that such
thoughts are apt to bring along in their train.

Forward their way lay, toward those forbidding wilds far to the north,
where few towns could be found, and pretty much all the country was a
vast wilderness, filled with picturesque forests, wild swamps, and
rugged hills.

It was just the country where desperate law breakers would choose as a