climbing or long walks. If you must go somewhere, go on horseback, at a slow pace. And keep warm and dry.”

“Well, Joe, that’s a fine, encouraging report!” the scout master declared as they left. “You keep on minding the doc, and you’ll be a well man.”

“He’ll keep on minding him, all right, all right,” said Tom, putting his arm around Joe’s shoulder, and then tightening it around his neck till Joe’s head was forced over where he could give it a friendly punch.

Joe started to duck and punch back, but Spider cried, “Here—cut that out! No over-exertion!”—and then the three laughed and hurried on, to make arrangements for the departure of the boys.

Clothing, of course, was the most important thing, and the boys got out their trunks and selected what they would need, with the aid of a folder describing conditions in the Park. They took their scout suits, of course, with leggins, and their heaviest high boots. Tom also added a box of steel spikes and a key to screw them in with. They also took their sweaters, and mackinaws, though it seemed foolish to be taking mackinaws for a summer trip. Then they packed two suits of winter underwear, several pairs of heavy wool socks for tramping, two flannel outing shirts, and rubber ponchos, which both boys had bought the year before when the scouts took a five day hike. Then, of course, they took their knapsacks, and both boys sent for dunnage bags of stout canvas. They took their scout axes and cooking kits, knives, Tom’s camera, compasses, and notebooks to keep diaries in. Tom had a folding camp lantern for which they got a box of candles. For bedding, each packed two pairs of heavy double blankets, and Joe’s mother insisted on making a separate bundle of a winter bed puff, which, as it turned out later, he was glad enough to have. They also put in their winter pajamas, their scout hats, and some old leather gloves. Finally, they got some packages of dehydrated vegetables, soup sticks, powdered egg, army rations, and tabloid tea, to use on walking trips if Joe got strong enough to tramp. Such condensed and light weight rations, Mr. Rogers thought, probably could not be purchased in the Park.

It was a lovely day, almost at the end of June, when the two boys finally started. There had been a scout meeting the night before, at which Bob Sawtelle, who was to act as patrol leader in Spider’s absence, had made a speech for the rest and presented Joe with a pocket camera, the gift of the entire troop. It was a short speech, but to the point.

“Old Joey’s pipes have gone on the blink,” he said, “and he’s got to beat it out West to pump ’em full of ozone. We other fellers thought we’d like to see what he’s seen, when he gets back, so we all chipped in and got a camera. Here it is, Joe, and don’t try to snap Spider with it, or you’ll bust the lens.”

Joe tried to make a speech in reply, but he couldn’t do it. He just took the camera, and said, “Gee, fellows, you’re—you’re all to the good.”

“And don’t you worry about your mother’s coal, either,” Bob added. “We’re going to keep right on fillin’ the hods, and if anybody forgets when it’s his turn, I’m goin’ to beat him on the bean.”

“That’s a good one,” cried little Sam Cowan. “You forgot yourself yesterday!”

“Well, I ain’t goin’ to forget any more, or let you, either,” Bob answered.

Bob and several more scouts, as well as Mr. Rogers, Joe’s mother and little brother and sister, and Tom’s family, were all down at the depot to see the boys off in the morning. There were kisses and some tears from the women, and a scout cheer from the boys, and cries of “Have you got your axe, Spider?” and “Joe, dear, are you sure you put in your comb and brush?” and “Tom, dear, now don’t forget to send mother a postcard just as soon as you get there,” and “Say, Joey, bring home a Rocky Mountain sheep’s head for the clubroom,” and “Hi, Spider, don’t forget a grizzly bear rug for me, so my little tootsies won’t be cold when I hop out of bed.”

The train came, the boys got aboard, it pulled out, and looking back they saw their friends and parents on the platform, waving good-bye, and the church spires and housetops of their village vanishing into the June green of the tree tops.

“Well,” said Tom, “we’re off for the Rocky Mountains!”

Joe rubbed his eyes. “Sure we are!” he answered. “I kind of hate to leave ma, though, and the kids.”

Tom slapped him on the shoulder.

“Sure you do,” he said. “But it’s so you can come back a husky, well man, to look out for ’em better than ever. Don’t you forget that, old scout!”