We were a fine gang of youngsters, all about thirteen years, wise in boys'
deviltry. What we didn't know about killing cats, breaking window-panes in
barns, stealing coal from freight-cars, and borrowing eggs from
neighboring hencoops without consent of the hens, wasn't worth the
knowing.

There used to be another boy in the gang, Skinny. One day when we ran away
to the swimming-hole after school, this other little fellow didn't come
back with us.

You see, there was the little-kids' swimmin'-hole and the big-kids'
swimmin'-hole. The latter was over our heads. Well, Skinny swung out on
the rope hanging from the cottonwood-tree on the bank of the big-kids'
hole. Somehow he lost his head and fell in.

None of us could swim, and he was too far out to reach. There was nothing
to help him with, so we just had to watch him struggle till he had gone
down three times. And there where we last saw him a lot of bubbles came
up. The inquiry before the Justice of Peace with our fathers, which
followed, put fright in our bones, and the sight of the old creek was a
nightmare for months to come. After that we decided to keep to the hills
and woods. This necessitated a hut. But we had no lumber with which to
build it.

However, there were three houses going up in town--and surely they could
spare a few boards. So after dark we got out old Juliet and the
spring-wagon and made several visits to the new houses. The result was
that in about a week we had enough lumber to frame the cabin.

Our site was about three miles from town, high up on the Adams Farm. After