What are you going to do?" he asked, as Frank unsheathed a camp
hatchet, and commenced to look around, as if in search of some particular
kind of wood.
"Well, you see, I remember that I lost my tent pegs the last time I
camped in Maine, and it's up to me to cut a new supply. No better time
than now, while we're waiting for the wagon. Then I expect to lay out
several poles on which to stretch the tents--one tall one for the
center, and a couple of others outside for the fly that forms a
shelter," remarked Frank, commencing operations on what seemed a
suitable piece of hickory.
"What sort of tents are they?" asked Jerry, watching all that the other
did, so as to catch the true spirit of the thing from practical
observation, which somehow seemed vastly different from what he read in
his books on sport.
"The kind which most canoeists like in these modern days. They're big
enough to accommodate four in a pinch, although it's much better to have
only two in each, and that's why I brought both along. Then, when the fly
in front is raised it makes a splendid place for the table, being
sheltered from sun and rain. Each tent has a waterproof floorcloth, to
keep the dampness out. Wait and see, Jerry.
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