filling up with alders and willers and shad-bushes.”
“You’ve been over it before,” observed Stanley.
“No,” said Bub, “My first trip.”
“How do you know it then?”
“I know we should go north and that this is the old tote road. One on the other side just like it. Leads up to the lake. The bushes don’t fool me ’cause I can see the old timbers left from the first swamping. Now we come to a bit of corduroy road—or poles laid across.”
“Kind of tough walking,” muttered Stanley, as a limb sprang back and left a livid welt across his forehead.
“O this ain’t bad,” encouraged Bub. “See, here’s where Abner and Charlie went through and Abner got into the muck. See, here’s where he slipped off the ends of the poles. Some bad places in here, too. A little later we might find some snakes.”
“Don’t regret their absence on my account,” shuddered Stanley. “It’s getting cold.”
“The nights are pretty cold up here way into June or July,” comforted Bub. “Push on faster. When the sun goes behind that mountain it’s going to be some dark in this neighborhood.”
