"I knew it had been a mighty dry season," said Lew, in amazement, "but I
never imagined it was anything like this. I supposed that spring never
went dry."

The two lads stood looking at each other in consternation.

"What in the world shall we do?" asked Charley, slowly.

"I don't see that we can do anything," rejoined Lew. "I'm all in myself. I
couldn't go another rod if somebody would pay me. We'll just have to make
the best of it."

"Well, we can eat if we can't drink," said Charley. "Start a fire and I'll
get out the grub."

Charley began to unroll his pack, while Lew gathered up a few twigs and
made a cone-shaped little pile of them close beside the great rock. He
struck a match and in a moment flames were drawing upward through the
twigs. With the hatchet Lew cut some short lengths of heavier wood and
soon the flames were leaping high, lighting up the forest for rods around.

Dismal, indeed, was the sight the two lads looked upon. Nowhere could they
see anything green, save a few scattered ferns. Everywhere gaunt, ragged,
blackened trees thrust their sorrowful looking trunks aloft. The earth was
littered with blackened débris--burned and partly charred limbs and fallen
trees. The very rocks were fire-scarred and scorched. Hardly could the
mind of man conceive a picture more desolate. As the two boys looked at
the scene before them, Lew quoted the sign on the hemlock.

"Everybody loses when timber burns," he said. But though both boys were