"No, that is what I shall like. I remember when I lived in the country I went with some other boys to a point fifteen miles away, and camped out for a week. I wish I could see the boys now. There was Harry Bacon, and George Parker, and Eugene Sweetland, and—but you won't be interested in hearing about it."
"I am glad you have had some experience in that kind of life. Of course you won't have the comforts of home, but you may meet with adventures. At any rate, if you get tired you can start for home any time."
"Mr. Boone," said Rupert, when they were fairly on their way, "are you related to Daniel Boone?"
"I don't think there was any Daniel in our family," answered Ben, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Where did he live?"
"In Kentucky."
"I never was in Kentucky myself, though my wife has a cousin who lives there somewhere."
"This Daniel Boone was a great hunter," explained Rupert, rather surprised that Ben had not heard of him.
"Then he must be a relation to me. All my family were fond of hunting."
At the end of ten miles they struck a river, which was pleasant, as it afforded them a change of travel. They had brought with them a skeleton skiff, a sort of framework, with skins to cover it, and they were able to launch it on the river. The stream was narrow, and bordered on one side by mountain scenery. The channel seemed to be deep, and as the skiff moved rapidly on, with comparatively slight exertion in the way of rowing, Rupert felt that he was indeed in a wonderful land.