A SUNDAY AMONG THE PINES.


"Men and boys learn a good many wholesome lessons in the forest, one of
which is that it pays better to take a day of rest in seven if they want
to make the most of themselves and their opportunities. Therefore, lads,
we'll do no tramping to-day. And we'll have a bit of a service by and by
over there under the pines."

So spoke Doctor Phil on the following morning, when the two sets of
campers, now one joyous, brotherly crowd, were sitting or lounging about
the pine-wood table, leisurely emptying tin mugs of tea or coffee, and
eating porridge and rolls of Joe's baking.

"You haven't told us yet, Cyrus," he went on, "what point you're bound
for. I know you're level-headed, and plan every forest trip beforehand,
to economize time."

"Yes, a fellow likes to do that; it adds to the pleasures of
anticipation," Garst answered. "But it's precious little use, after all,
when you're visiting a region which is as full of surprises as an egg is
full of meat. However, I have arranged to meet Herb Heal, the guide whom
I generally employ, at a hunting-camp near Millinokett Lake."

"A good moose country," put in Doc.

"I know it. At all events, it is a good place for a home-camp; one can
make excursions into the dense forests at the foot of Katahdin, which
are unrivalled for big game--so Herb says, and he's an authority. These
English fellows may expect to have an attack of buck-fever, or