The motor-cycles had been securely packed away under the big fly all this time, and had not suffered at all from the rain. Indeed, the boys took good care to keep them well oiled, knowing the benefit of having such valuable pieces of mechanism in first-class order at all times.
Jerry went over to the farmer's and secured the horses and wagon. Then the work of dismantling Kamp Kill Kare began. They tried to appear gay, but every one of the boys had become attached to the place during their short stay, and felt badly over leaving these scenes with so much undone that they had planned for.
"Never mind, fellows, we're going to come again and again. This first camp of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club isn't going to be the last, by any means. And I guess we've learned a good many things on this trip," sang out Jerry, cheerily.
"That's true every day, with all of us. I'm learning all the time. And next year when we get under canvas we will have a lot of pleasant memories to look back to. Why, with Will's pictures to help out, the winter will be a constant feast of stories about the things that have happened to us up here," remarked Frank.
"I'd like to have seen more of old Jesse. He's just chock full of woods lore, and can give you all the points you want about animals and such. How are things getting on out there, fellows? Is the wagon pretty well loaded?" asked Jerry.
"Have the last tent packed away in ten minutes. Toby says he can drive all right, but we'll keep near by to lend him a hand if necessary. The road is some rough in places until we get on the pike."
Half an hour later the wagon moved away from the camp under the hemlocks. Uncle Toby looked back and grinned amiably as he noted his ladder of protection, and his friendly tree of refuge.
Each boy in turn started his machine by walking, then vaulted into the saddle, and began to move along the trail that led down to the lumber camps at the head of the lake.
No one said a word. In truth all were too full of emotion to speak, for they felt this sudden flitting more than they cared to admit.
A turn of the trail and no longer could they see the twin hemlocks under which the two khaki tents had stood. Frank had broken up many times in his camping experiences and knew just how it felt; but the sensation was new to the others. It was as if they had just lost a dear friend—as though something had gone out of their lives that could never be recovered again.