Sandy laughed. “Two pairs, you mean. He looks like a figurehead on one of those old sailing ships, doesn’t he?”
Russ outlined the month’s itinerary: “Lars will drop us off at the northeast corner of the lake, and we’ll strike out for Big Falls. From Big Falls we’ll head south to Bow String Lake, and from Bow String west back to the lodge. Actually, we’ll be traveling in a big triangle, about one hundred and twenty miles altogether, I’d say.”
“This is a lumber region, isn’t it, Mr. Steele?” Quiz asked. “I’ve always wanted to see lumberjacks at work.”
“You’ll have your chance, Quiz,” Russ promised him. “Although the lumber industry in Minnesota is only a shadow of what it used to be. A little more than a century ago, more than three quarters of the state was forested. But ruthless cutting of timber without any thought of conservation or restocking has all but wiped out the great pine forests of the Lake States. The short-sighted men responsible never stopped to consider how long it takes a tree to grow. Why, some of these big fellows are mere babies after one hundred years.”
The little launch was fairly skimming across the mirror-like surface of the lake now. There wasn’t a hint of a breeze, and although it was still early morning, the sun burned down so intensely that they had to string up an awning over the rear deck.
“Another scorcher,” Russ said grimly.
Lars grunted. “We better get rain soon, or we have pretty big trouble. One spark in these woods and poof!” He threw up his hands.
Russ spoke seriously to the boys. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to forgo the joys of the evening campfire. It would be much too dangerous. I brought along a Coleman stove to cook on.”
Jerry was disappointed. “Heck, that’s half the fun of camping out—shooting the breeze around the fire.”
“I feel bad about it myself,” Russ agreed. “But if you ever had had the misfortune to see a forest fire at first hand, you’d understand that it’s out of the question.”