The Scout-Master rejoined the boys, and they all started on an inspection of the camp. As they walked, Mr. Durland told Jack and Dick Crawford about what the red-haired boy had said, and they were as pleased as he over the prospect of gaining a new Scout, when in this part of the country nothing had been further from their thoughts.
The clearing in which the logging camp was situated covered several acres, and was hemmed in closely by giant trees. Some of these had already been nicked by the woodcutter’s axe, which marked them as the next victims to the demands of advancing civilization.
Not far from the camp ran a river, or at least what was a river at certain seasons of the year, though now it was little more than a large brook. The boys could hear it murmuring through the trees, and suddenly Tom Binns said:
“Say, fellows, I wonder if there’s any place around here that we could take a swim? It’s getting pretty hot, and I for one feel as if a good swim would do me all sorts of good.”
There was a general shout of approval, and the Scout-Master said, “Why don’t you see if you can discover a pool of some kind?”
This was no sooner said than done, and the boys, accompanied by Don, were plunging pell-mell through the underbrush in the direction of the river. Soon they emerged on the bank of the stream, and after their hot run the thought of a plunge in the cool, shady river was pleasant indeed.
Running along the bank, they discovered a place where a fallen forest giant had formed a natural dam, and the water was several feet deep. It was not two minutes before every Scout was in the pool, and oh, how grateful the cool, clear water felt! They splashed around, and in one place the better swimmers found it deep enough for diving.
“Say, isn’t this a bully place?” shouted Jack.
“Bet your sweet life it is!” shouted one.
“I just guess yes!” agreed another.