"It's what an
engine whistle or the swing of a lantern is to us trainmen, and I'm glad
our boys play at something so sensible. It's a mighty good thing once in
a while, as we saw to-day--this 'Signal Code.'"
* * * * * * * *
It was late in September when the little colony on the lake struck camp
and pulled into town. The hunting season was well on, and sportsmen
were out after deer and partridge, and Benny and his friends had been
fortunate enough to shoot two birds and a jack rabbit. This, of course,
meant that every Saturday they took to the woods, with the one little
shotgun the crowd possessed, for in the wild, new railway districts it
is a good thing for boys to learn to be good shots while yet young.
Often in the snowbound winters meat is scarce, and one's food is
frequently the result of being a dead shot, so guns in the hands of
boys of ten and twelve are nothing unusual. One wonderful autumn day
six of "the gang" had prowled the forest for hours, and had succeeded
in bugging some plump partridges, and late in the afternoon they all
sprawled out in the Indian summer sunshine, finishing the remnants of
their luncheon, and looking about the marvellous cavern that, formed by
the pine-crowned hills, lay like a cup at their feet.
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