The boys slept late the next morning. When they did finally open their smarting eyes, the sunlight was streaming through the cabin windows. They ate a tardy breakfast which the guide had saved for them, and then went outside to see the damage done by the fire.
Everything was black—tree-trunks, stumps, even the ground. Sticks and twigs lying among the rocks the day before were now rows of gray ashes. The rocks themselves were seamed and cracked from the terrific heat that had passed over them. The foliage of the evergreens was seared and brown. Altogether, it was a scene of desolation.
“Might have been worse,” Bill declared, after he had carefully inspected many of the scorched tree-trunks.
“Yes, I don’t believe it hurt the big timber much,” replied Ben; “it went through too fast.”
The boys thought that for this very reason the fire should have been the more destructive. Ben then carefully explained that the slow-traveling fire, working its way tediously against the wind, or along some sheltered valley, invariably did the most damage. He said that, on account of its very slowness, that type of fire burned everything in its path. On the other hand, the wind-swept flames traveling through at railroad speed very often only scorched the foliage, and were driven on before they had a chance to eat their way into the trees.
Toward noon a fresh breeze came down out of the northwest and drove away most of the smoke. A flock of ducks came with it and alighted in the lake; but it was Sunday, and the lads were not hunting.
At dinner the boys were much pleased when Ben promised to take them on a canoe trip the following day. He said they would go to the beaver-dam, where they might see some of those wonderful animals at work. They listened eagerly while he told how the beavers felled trees, which they cut into proper lengths and floated to the spot chosen for their dam. Ben also promised that they might do some shooting on the way.
Later in the day the boys accompanied Bill down to the shore of the lake. There they saw the flock of ducks floating quietly on the water in a sunny cove some little distance away.
The trapper asked Ed if he would like to try a snap-shot at them, and Ed ran to the cabin for his camera.
While he was gone Bill and George began to cut branches with which to trim and conceal the canoe.