spite. I know he will! Now, I've got to find some good way
to account for that paper and chisel I'll put in the day thinking
up my story."




CHAPTER V

BIRCH BARK MERCHANTS


Away over on Katson's Hill six high school boys, stripped to their
undershirts and trousers, were toiling hard, drenched in perspiration
and with hands considerably the worse for their hard work.

"What we're finding out is that it's one thing to strip bark for
fun, and quite another thing to take it off in pieces large enough
for a boat-builder," Dick Prescott declared.

"It isn't as fast work as I thought it would be, either," Dave
Darrin declared, running his knife slowly down the trunk of a
young birch.

"What we need is to bring a grindstone along with us," Tom Reade
grunted, as he examined the edge of the largest blade in his jackknife.
"I simply can't cut with this knife any more."

"I couldn't cut with a fine razor," declared Greg Holmes. "Look
at the blisters on my hands from the cutting I've already done."