"So is mine," said Bill.
"That's where you rest the canoe when portaging," said Mr. Anderson, who had heard the remark. "You'll get a real callous there before the summer is over. Just for curiosity, feel Pierre's neck some time. He has been at this all his life, and he has a regular muscle there."
What those hungry fellows did to that pot-pie would be a shame to tell. It disappeared very quickly, while the biscuits that Jack made tasted even better than those that mother used to bake. Even the big dish of prunes that topped off the meal was relished.
"Take me to my little bed," said Pud as, with a sigh, he saw the last prune disappear from his plate.
"Impossible, impossible," said Bob. "I think after that meal that you'll have to go around and not dare to cross the bridge over the trout pond. You'll break through."
"Not an extra step," said Pud. "In fact, I've been wondering for the last five minutes if I can get to my tent. I'm so stiff I can hardly move." It was indeed only with difficulty that Pud could navigate, for he had put in a hard day for a fat boy.
"If I survive the summer," said Pud, with a twinkle in his eye, "just watch me tear that old line to pieces this fall. This life should put the stuff into anybody."
"Yes," said Mr. Waterman, as he winked at Bob, "this was a rather easy day. Later we'll do some real work and cover some ground. I wanted to break you in easily at first."
"Now, what do you think of that?" queried Pud of Bill, as they crossed the trout pond to their tent. "He says this is an easy day. I wonder what he thinks of doing when he gets real strenuous?"
"I guess he was joking," replied Bob. "Personally, I think that we had just about all the exercise to-day that we need."