“What is that?”
“You know I own the southern shore of Gosling Lake, which lies in the lower part of Maine, a few miles from the bank of the Sheepscott. Our club is about to put up a bungalow on that bank that will serve for headquarters. Such of the members as wish will bunk there while fishing this summer. It is the close season for game, beside which there is little to be had in that section. I have invited Scout Master Hall to spend the month of August there with his boys.”
“That is a long distance for them to travel and I’m afraid some cannot afford the expense.”
“It shall not cost any one a cent. It is to be simply an outing for the troop, who will be the guests of Alvin.”
“And Chester: I shall insist upon that.”
“As you please. Our boys will go to Southport early in July, or as soon as their schools close. They and Mike Murphy will manage to worry through several weeks with the motor launch, until the main party is ready to hike for the woods and all have their picnic on Gosling Lake.”
“I gather from what you say that this will not be the usual camping-out experience, in which the boys put up their tents in the depth of the woods and provide for their own wants.”
“No; they will have something of the kind—to keep their hands in, as may be said—during early spring and summer nearer their own homes. They will continue to study woodcraft, undergo training, perfect their discipline, and in short rough it like real scouts. They will be on edge, and prepared to mix some of the conveniences of life with the roughness of existence out of doors. Perhaps you and I will feel like taking a turn at it ourselves, if they will consent.”
Haynes shook his head with a grim smile.
“As we agreed a few minutes ago, we have waited too long for that. Your plan is admirable and does you credit.”