The entire floor space inside the shack was covered with balsam boughs. Mr. Black showed the girls how to make them stand upright like a forest of tiny trees—the twigs were about fourteen inches long.
"It'll be almost like a mattress and springs," assured he, "when you have it finished. The Whale has provided three light dust-covers and three fairly heavy robes—we'll use those for bedding."
"But," objected Marjory, who was not at all sure that she was going to like the queer bed that Mr. Black was making, "we haven't any pillows."
"I guess," teased Mr. Black, "you'll have to use your shoes—campers always do."
"The woods are full of pillows," assured Bettie, who was helping with the balsam twigs. "There's running pine on the ground under the trees, a lot of nice green moss on the logs, all sorts of big, soft ferns; and whole bushels of leaves on the trees."
"That's right," commented Mr. Black. "Suppose you girls gather about seven pillows—good big ones because the stuff will pack down—off the nearest pillow-tree; and I'll see if I can't find another wide board or two."
"Where," asked thoughtful Jean, "do all the pieces of lumber come from?"
"There's a sawmill at Big Bear Harbor, some fifteen miles north of here. I suppose a good many boards get lost through careless handling. None of this is first-class lumber, however. This plank, you see, is full of knot-holes. This one is hemlock and has two long splits in it."
"I guess there's a shingle-mill somewhere, too," said Bettie. "Mabel picked up a whole basketful of pieces of brand-new shingles."