“We just got the news that our gang will be represented on the Long Trail this year!” answered the councilor. “Congrats again, Brick! He’s going to help plant the Lenape pennant on old Mount Kinnecut. Stand up, you red-headed riot, and bow to the ladies and gentlemen!”
Brick blushed beneath his freckles. “Aw, it’s not so much to talk about.” He choked as his friend Lefty Reardon pounded him on the back heartily.
“You’re wrong there, old scout!” Lefty shouted. “I went last year, and it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Talk about fun! And we had some exciting adventures, too. Boy, when you’re tenting by Lake Moosehorn and catching a mess of bass for your supper, think of poor Lefty back at Lenape, wishing he was along again this season!”
Sax McNulty stared into the distance. “I scaled Kinnecut five—no, six—years ago, it was,” he said softly. “I’ll never have such a great time if I live to be a hundred and fifty! Tiny Krouse, my canoe-mate, was chased two miles by a mama-bear who thought he was trying to kidnap her cubs! And the view from the Lookout! Why——”
“Tell us about it, Sax!” begged Nig Jackson.
Dirk, who had been looking from one to another of the eager boys, now broke in. “Yes, but first tell me what all this is about! What is Brick going to do, anyway? Where is the Long Trail?”
“Tell him, Lefty,” nodded McNulty.
“Well, Van, it’s this way. The Long Trail is an old Lenape custom that was started by six fellows the first year the camp began. They went for a sixty-mile trip from here to Mount Kinnecut, up the river by canoes and over the ponds to Lake Moosehorn, then hiking through the big timber and climbing the mountain. Since then, every year, six boys under a leader make the same trip, and now there are nine Camp Lenape pennants nailed to the tallest tree on the very top of old Kinnecut, to show that the chosen campers can come through a long endurance test with flying colors. It’s not an easy trail, and so only the fellows who are best fitted for it can go. Once you’ve made the trip, you can’t go again—only Mr. Carrigan, who is in command, has been over it before. I want to tell you youngsters that it’s the one big thing at Lenape that you can never forget! Brick, I say it again, you’re a lucky bum!”
Dirk was still puzzled. “How do they pick the fellows to go?”
“Well, they have to be in first-class shape all around—healthy, full of pep and camp spirit, and they have to know their way around on the water and in the woods,” said McNulty. “And Wise-Tongue Carrigan has made a good choice this year, if you ask me. Besides Brick, he’s picked Steve Link, Wild Willie Sanders, Spaghetti Megaro, Cowboy Platt, and Ugly Brown. Ugly is younger than the rest, but he’s a fine little woodsman and can handle a canoe like an Indian. I tell you, Van Horn, if you make the most of your chances this summer, I wouldn’t be surprised to see you leading the list of Long Trailers next season!”