Roy. "That's the month for moose-hunting, jacking, and all the most
exciting sort of fun. We have to go home in a day or two, for our
school has reopened, unless"--

"When Royal Sinclair gets a streak of talking, you might as well try to
bottle up the Mississippi as to stop him," said Dr. Phil, laughing. "I
can't hear what he's saying, but I know that his tongue is clicking like
a telegraph instrument. But I hope it has given its last message for
to-night. You really must turn in, boys. I let you have an extra social
hour, because to-morrow will be Sunday, a day of rest after the travels
and excitements of the week. Think of it, lads! A Sunday in the
woods--God's first cathedral! May it do us all good!"

The guide, Joe, built up the fire. Fresh birch logs blistered and
sputtered as creeping curls of bluish flame enwrapped them. Kindling
rapidly, they threw out fantastic lights, which danced like a regiment
of red elves around the old log walls of the cabin.

"If a fellow could only drop off to sleep every night in the year seeing
and smelling such a fire as that!" breathed Neal, as, accepting a share
of Royal's blankets, he stretched his tired limbs on the evergreen
mattress.

"Then life would be too jolly for anything," answered Roy.




CHAPTER IX.