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Early in the afternoon they passed the Traverspine River, and now with some current to oppose made slower, though with the fair wind, good progress, and when the sun dipped behind the western hills and they halted to make their night camp they were ten miles above the Traverspine. To men accustomed to travelling in the bush, camp is quickly made.
He easily killed it with a stick, and picking it up by its tail, was about to turn back into the trail when a fresh axe cutting caught his eye. "Now who's been here, lads?" said he, looking at it closely. "None o' th' planters has been inside of th' Traverspine, an' no Mountaineers has left th' post yet." The others joined him and scrutinized the cutting, then looked for other human signs.
"Th' wind's prickin' up a bit from th' east'rd, an' when we starts I thinks we may hoist the sails." "Yes, th' wind's prickin' up an' we'll have a fair breeze t' help us past th' Traverspine, I hopes." The landing was made. Bob and Ed each took an axe to cut into suitable lengths some of the plentiful dead wood lying right to hand, while Dick whittled some shavings and started the fire.
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