“All right, Penny, if that’s the way you feel, but I know we’re asking for punishment.”
By careful driving the Parkers reached the gravel road without mishap. At the entrance to the Rhett Park area they were stopped by a pleasant, middle-aged forest ranger who took down the license number of the car.
“Be careful about your camp fire,” he instructed. “Only last week several acres of timber were destroyed at Alton. We’re not certain whether it was started by a camper or was a case of sabotage. In any case, one can’t be too careful.”
“We will be,” promised Mr. Parker.
“Camp only in the designated sites,” the ranger added. “I’ll be around later on to see how you’re getting along.”
Once beyond the gateway arch, Penny’s sagging spirits began to revive. The road curled lazily between dense masses of timber fringed by artistic old-fashioned rail fences. Numerous signs pointed to trails that invited exploration.
“Oh, Dad, it’s really nice here!” she cried. “We’ll have a wonderful time!”
Presently the car came to an open space with picnic tables. There was a picturesque spot beside a rocky brook which looked just right for a camp site.
“Let’s pitch our tent here!” pleaded Penny. “You set it up while I cook supper.”
Mr. Parker unloaded the car and went to work with a will hammering the metal stakes of the umbrella tent. Penny busied herself sorting pots and pans and trying to get the gasoline stove started. Despite her best efforts she could not induce it to burn.