necessitated leaving the water, or when trips inland were made.
The supplies, Stanley noticed, were limited to salt pork, potatoes, bacon and flour, salt and coffee and a generous supply of tobacco.
“Our bill of fare will get a bit monotonous,” whispered Stanley as he took his place in the middle of the canoe.
“You’ll find it tastes mighty good, and when we add a trout or a partridge you’ll say it’s the best you ever ate,” declared Bub. “Trust Abner to keep in supplies.”
“Where will We camp?” inquired Stanley, hungry for information and beginning to feel that he was a veteran woodsman.
“Where’d ye advise?” drawled Abner, who overheard the query.
Not to be caught Stanley took his time in surveying the rugged landscape. The black growth, or cedar and tamarack in the lowlands extending up to the spruce and fir, was interspersed at intervals by hardwood ridges. Near the banks of the stream patches of ghostly birch grew tall and slim.
“Well,” he finally decided, “I’d go up between those two hills and camp on some high, dry spot.”
