Grant had hardly finished this task when John and Fred returned to the camp. They were loaded down with balsam boughs and staggered under the weight of the loads they were carrying. With a sigh of relief each boy dropped his bundle on the ground and sat down to regain his breath.
“You fellows look as if you’d been working hard,” laughed Grant.
“We have,” panted John. “Just carry a load like that for a while and see what you think of it.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Grant. “Have you got all you want?”
“All the balsam, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I should hope so,” exclaimed Fred. “At any rate I refuse to go back after any more. My fingers are all gummy and sticky, too.”
“The boughs smell great, though,” said Grant admiringly.
“Don’t they?” exclaimed John. “They’ll be wonderful to sleep on.”
“You see, Grant,” remarked Fred, “String here is so tall we had to cut an extra supply to make a bed long enough for him. I’m really quite worried, too, for fear his feet may stick out beyond the flap of the tent, anyway.”