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Updated: June 8, 2025
Hurrah for the wild woods and all woodsmen!" Amid cracking of jokes, and noise which would have disgraced a squad of Indians, "Company Three," as Cyrus dubbed his reduced band, reached the crowning-point of their journey, the log camp on the shore of Millinokett Lake.
His slate-gray eyes with jetty pupils, which were miniatures of Millinokett Lake at this hour, gazed at the awakened trio in the bunk, with a gleam of light shooting athwart them, like a moonbeam crossing the face of the lake.
I propose that we start back to our home-camp to-morrow. It will take us two days to reach Millinokett Lake. Then we'll set our faces towards civilization the first week in November, or thereabouts." "Oh, bother it! So soon!" protested Dol. "Now, Young Rattlebrain," Garst took the calm tone of leadership, "please consider that this is the first time you've camped out in Maine woods.
He's not built that way." There was a general hum of interest over this story, which even Cyrus had not heard before. "Now, how are you going to reach your camp on Millinokett Lake?" asked Dr. Phil, when the buzz had subsided. "That's the next question."
Only a dozen miles of tolerably easy travelling now separated Garst and his English comrades from the camp on Millinokett Lake, where they were to meet the redoubtable Herb Heal.
In the midst of an echoing hubbub the boat was hauled up and moored, and the party reached their log shelter. The following day was spent by our trio in exploring the woods near Millinokett Lake, in listening to more moose-talk, and in attempting the trick of calling.
Cyrus and the Farrars, while they looked upon him, felt that, even if they had never heard Herb's exclamation, they would have had no difficulty in identifying the creature, remembering that story which had thrilled them by the camp-fire at Millinokett. It was Herb Heal's traitor chum the half-breed, Cross-eyed Chris.
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