For a time the little group of friends sat about in silence. While they were anxious and eager to see their parents, the boys nevertheless felt badly about leaving Ben, and Bill, and Moze, and the great peaceful forest they had learned to love.
“Well, say, there’s no need of everybody getting the ‘blues,’” laughed the guide. “I’ll hustle around and cook some supper, and then maybe we’ll all feel better.”
That night the boys sat up late, and Ben told Bill of their plucky adventure at the log-jam. It was decided that they should go to the station with Tom Westbrook and his team early the next week. Bill said he would wait over at the cabin to see them off.
It rained all the next day, and the boys busied themselves with packing their belongings. Not the least important were several trophies of the hunt, which they were taking home in proof of their prowess.
The following days were spent in the woods and on the lake with Ben and Bill. Rare golden days they were, filled with flowers and sunshine and song, for the long, dreamy days of early summer had arrived. The boys learned more of the songs and calls of the birds, and the names and uses of the many wild flowers which were constantly bursting into bloom in the woods about the cabin. They saw fishes guarding their gravelly nests of spawn at the bottom of the lake. They found the eggs of turtles at the end of long, tunnel-like excavations in sandy banks. The time sped rapidly, and at length the day for their departure was but a night away.
“Well, this is our last snooze on balsam tips,” said Ed, when they were finally in their bunk.
“Yes, and, do you know, sometimes it all seems like a dream. We certainly have been through a few experiences since we left the city. And let me tell you, Ed, each of them has done us good; I feel that we can take care of ourselves anywhere now,” replied George. “Say, we never found out who ‘The Old Man of the Woods’ is.”
“Well then, I’ll tell you now,” laughed Ben, who had overheard their conversation. “You met him right here the first night, when you worried about the flying squirrels. He has been with you ever since, until you know him well enough to call him by his right name, which is Experience.”
“And is that how you met him?” inquired the boys.
“That is how we must all meet him, if we expect to ever know him well. He’s a rough old fellow, and he don’t make friends easily. You’ve got to prove your worth before he accepts you. If you’re game, he’ll take care of you in great shape and tell you all he knows. But if you’re a quitter, he’ll soon drive you out of his country and make things so unpleasant you’ll never wish to return. Now you know him, and, furthermore, you can consider him your friend, because you’ve made good. Good night.”