There was a general hum of interest over this story, which even Cyrus
had not heard before.

"Now, how are you going to reach your camp on Millinokett Lake?" asked
Dr. Phil, when the buzz had subsided. "That's the next question."

"We intend to tramp the entire distance by easy stages, and get there
about the middle of October," answered young Garst for himself and his
comrades. "Uncle Eb will go along with us as guide; and he'll supply a
tent, so that we can rest for two or three nights at a time if we
choose."

"Hum!" said the doctor doubtfully, laying his hand on Dol's shoulder.
"This youngster oughtn't to do much tramping for a few days, Cyrus. That
deer-road did up his feet pretty badly. I'll be travelling in your
direction myself the day after to-morrow. I want to visit a
farm-settlement within a dozen miles of the lake, where the farmer has a
sickly child, the only treasure in his log shanty. The mite frets if
Doc doesn't come to see her once in a while.

"Therefore, I propose that we join forces, and press forward together. I
guess I'll keep my nephews out here for a week longer, and take the
responsibility of their missing that time at school. Now that they have
fallen in with your friends, it would be a shame to separate Young
England and Young America without giving them a chance to get friendly."

Here Dr. Phil beamed upon the five boys, who, after one night in the
forest, sleeping in a light-hearted row on the evergreen boughs, with
their feet to the fire, had reached a brotherly intimacy which years of