“The first aid to the injured kind.”
“Try to use any o’ it on me, an’ there’ll be a scrap,” snickered Larry.
Dismounting, the boys led their ponies through the woods, coming to a stop in a small, grassy clearing.
“Couldn’t be better,” exclaimed Bob. “Pitch in, fellows; we’ll have a camp made in a jiffy.”
Setting the example, he quickly unsaddled his tired horse, whose shaggy sides were flecked with foam. Then, tethering the animal to a near-by sapling, he drew a hatchet from his belt.
“We’ll need lots of fire-wood,” he said.
“I’ll help you cut some,” announced Tom.
“Me too,” said Thunderbolt.
“My job will be getting the water, and things ready to cook,” declared Dick Travers. “It’s your turn to-night, Tom, to play chef.”
“Guess I’ll gather a whole lot of balsam boughs for beds,” supplemented Sam Randall.