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Camp and Trail - A Story of the Maine Woods by Isabel Hornibrook
page 72 of 263 (27%)
misery, which would truly have been enough to set a weaker boy crazy.
With watering eyes and panting breaths that came near to being sobs of
gladness, he started upon the new trail. It led him off into the forest
surrounding the swamp.

The pine that had been chosen for guide-post was the first in the line
of spotted trees. The others followed it closely, with intervals of
eight or ten yards between them; and as the notches in their trunks were
freshly cut, Dol followed the track without any difficulty for twenty
minutes. He had a suspicion that he was nearing the end of it; though he
was still in forest gloom, with light coming in meagre, ever-lessening
streaks through the pine-tufts above. Then he started more violently
than when the deer snorted near his ear.

Suddenly and shrilly the blast of a horn rang through the darkening
woodland aisles, followed, after a pause of a minute or two, by a second
and louder blast.

Then a well-pitched, far-reaching voice sang out:--"Come to supper,
boys! Come to supper!"

"Good gracious!" said Dol, conscious on the instant that he was as
hollow as a drum. "There are enough surprises in these forests to raise
the hair on a fellow's head half a dozen times a day!"

A matter of forty yards more, and a burst of light swam before his eyes.
He had reached the end of the blazed trail.



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