bright-eyed men, full of life and talk, their tongues going unceasingly
as they plodded along in sociable groups. Of the remainder, some were
Scotch, others Irish, the rest English. Upon the whole, they were quite a
promising-looking lot of men; indeed, Johnston took very good care to
have as little "poor stuff" as possible in his gang; for he had long held
the reputation of turning out more logs at his camp than were cut at any
other on the same "limits;" and this well-deserved fame he cherished very
dearly.

Darkness was coming on apace, when at last a glad shout from the foremost
group announced that the end of the journey was near; and in a few
minutes more the whole band of tired men were resting their wearied limbs
on the bank of the river near which the shanty was to be erected at once.
The teams had arrived some time before them, and two large tents had been
put up as temporary-shelter; while brightly-burning fires and the
appetizing fizzle of frying bacon joined with the wholesome aroma of hot
tea to make glad the hearts of the dusty, hungry pedestrians.

Frank enjoyed his open-air tea immensely. It was his first taste of real
lumberman's life, and was undoubtedly a pleasant introduction to it; for
the hard work would not begin until the morrow, and in the meantime
everybody was still a-holidaying. So refreshing was the evening meal
that, tired as all no doubt felt from their long tramp, they soon forgot
it sufficiently to spend an hour or more in song and chorus that made the
vast forest aisles re-echo with rough melody before they sank into the
silence of slumber for the night.

At daybreak next morning Dan Johnston's stentorian voice aroused the
sleepers, and Frank could hardly believe that he had taken more than
twice forty winks at the most before the stirring shout of "Turn out!