She
pointed to the luggage.
"We will want the tent--everything," she said, "because we are
going to camp here until to-morrow."
Once on shore, Philip's dizziness left him. He pulled the canoe
high up on the bank, and then Jeanne and he set off, side by side,
to explore the high, wooded ground back from the river. They
followed a well-worn moose trail, and two or three hundred yards
from the stream came upon a small opening cluttered by great rocks
and surrounded by clumps of birch, spruce, and banskian pine. The
moose trail crossed this rough open space; and, following it to
the opposite side, Philip and Jeanne came upon a clear, rippling
little stream, scarcely two yards in width, hidden in places under
thick caribou moss and jungles of seedling pines. It was an ideal
camping spot, and Jeanne gave a little cry of delight when they
found the cold water of the creek.
Philip then returned to the river, concealed the canoe, covered up
all traces of their landing, and began to carry the camping outfit
back to the open. The small silk tent for Jeanne's use he set up
in a little grassy corner of the clearing, and built their fire a
dozen paces from it. With a sort of thrilling pleasure he began
cutting balsam boughs for Jeanne's bed.
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