By the end of the summer, Bennie and Spider saw real results—not so many as they had planned, but yet enough to cause the local Board of Trade to get out a little trail map for summer visitors, which Spider was asked to draw, and to cause the summer visitors to hike in larger numbers than ever before. And wherever they hiked, on the new trails, they saw the neat signs to guide them, posted by the Boy Scouts.
“It’s fine work, boys,” said Mr. Rogers, after the two scouts had passed their examinations for merit badges in hiking. “We’ve got a long trail to the next town, we’ve got one up Monument, we’ve cleaned the old path to Eagle Rock, and we’ve built one to the Cave. If we keep these cleared out, and add one new one a year, we’ll soon have Southmead the best town for tramping in the United States!”
“Just the same,” said Bennie, a little wistfully, “I wish I was going to climb old Jefferson tomorrow, where there isn’t any trail at all!”
“If you hadn’t climbed him, though, you wouldn’t have been so keen for this work we’ve been doing,” Spider said. “It’s because we got into the real wilderness that made us want to help folks around here to get out and hike.”
“Right—as usual,” Bennie laughed. “I’m not kicking. It’s great stuff, making trails. I like it. But some day!—Oh, you Crater Lake, I’m going back to you!”
“We might get in shape for it by taking a crack at the Monument cliffs tomorrow,” Spider laughed. “We haven’t climbed them since spring.”
“You’re on,” said Bennie. “Let’s carry packs and blanket rolls, and hike on down the other side, and spend the night at Wilson Pond.”
“That’s only fourteen miles—I’m your man,” cried Spider.
“’Course, it isn’t much, but it’ll keep us in condition,” Bennie declared, with great pretended airiness of manner. “We’ll hike back home in time for breakfast.”
Mrs. Rogers, who overheard this conversation, came out on the porch when the boys had gone.