Nine hours’ sleep has a wonderfully rejuvenating effect upon a healthy boy; and when our three friends left their blankets at five o’clock the next morning, and started on a keen run toward the “golden bathing beach” before spoken of, they were their own jolly, uneasy selves again. A hasty dip in the water, which was so cold that they could not long remain in it, two or three hotly contested races along the beach to get up a reaction, followed by a vigorous rubbing with coarse towels, put them in the right trim for more trout and johnny-cake; and the trout and johnny-cake put them in the humor for the work that must be done if their sojourn at the spring-hole was to be a pleasant one. The Indian Lake wilderness was noted for its sudden and violent storms, and when they came the boys meant to be ready for them. They did not forget to wash the dishes this time, and then Arthur and Joe went to work to build the shanty, while Roy busied himself in collecting a supply of fuel and building a range.
If you have never passed a vacation in the woods, you probably do not know that a camp fire and a camp range are two different things. The first is made directly in front of the open part of the shanty, and is intended for warmth and comfort, and for light, also, when you have no lantern or jack-lamp. The range is built off on one side, a little out of the way, and is made by placing two green logs, five or six feet long, and eight inches in diameter, side by side on the ground, about a foot apart at one end, and nearly touching at the other. The open end of the range is placed to windward—that is in the direction from which the wind blows—to create a draft, and the upper sides of the logs are hewn off square with an ax, so that the pots, pans, and kettles will stay where they are put, and not slip off into the fire. You build a hard-wood fire between these logs, and when it has stopped blazing and burned a thick bed of coals you are ready to begin your cooking. To facilitate the handling of hot dishes on the range, Joe Wayring had a pair of light blacksmith’s tongs, with the jaws curved instead of straight. This was the handiest little tool I ever saw. With its aid Joe could pour out coffee, dish up soup, and remove the frying-pan from the range; and, as the tongs were always cold, no one ever saw him dancing about the fire with burned fingers.