The camping-out fever now interfered seriously with the progress of the piling. To make matters worse, these three remaining loads were the most stubborn, closely packed loads conceivable. So stubborn were they, that it was as if they grew each night, and thus made up what they had lost during the day!
Camping details all had been discussed and settled, and finally Hal, who had been impatiently awaiting the last hour of the heap, said boldly:
“Why don’t you ask your father to let you go anyway, Ned, and tell him you’ll pile the rest when you come home? It will have lots of time to dry before winter!”
“He won’t, I know,” replied Ned, sadly.
“Oh, I bet he will,” insisted Hal. “He doesn’t care when the wood’s piled, if it’s only dry in time.”
“Well, I’ll ask him,” sighed Ned. “But he won’t, I know.”
He mustered his courage, and at the table that noon he hinted:
“Tom Pearce and Joe Cluny and a lot of other fellows went camping this morning.”
“Yes?” responded his father, politely.
“I wish Hal and I could go,” continued Ned.