“But why do they go to all that trouble?” said Frank again. “How many ponds have you seen in these parts?” said Art, scornfully. “They wouldn’t make a dam if they could find a natural pond shallow enough so their houses could come up above water, like a muskrat’s, would they, Mr. Rogers? But I suppose they couldn’t find one around here, so they just made it themselves. I think they’re about the smartest animal there is.” “You mean was,” said Peanut. “I never saw one. Did you?” “No,” said Art, sadly. “I’d like to, though. Gee, it’s a shame the way women have to wear furs, and kill off all the animals! Sometimes I wish there _weren’t_ any girls.” “Well, they’re not troubling us much this week,” Mr. Rogers laughed. “Now for Lost River!” The party turned east, and proceeded down the road for about half a mile, by an easy grade, till they came quite unexpectedly upon a souvenir post-card and “tonic” store, built of birch logs, beside the path. Here they stopped, and after buying a bottle of ginger ale apiece, a young French-Canadian lumberman, who ran the store and acted as guide during the summer season, agreed to pilot them through Lost River. He advised them to put on overalls before starting, but they scorned the suggestion. While they were debating the point with him, there was a sudden sound of voices outside, and in the doorway of the little log store appeared a party of women and girls--and one lone man. “Poor Art!” said Peanut, giving him a poke in the ribs. This party wanted to go through Lost River, too. “We can’t keep the guide all to ourselves and make him lose this other job,” said Mr. Rogers. “Besides, we’re Scouts, and we ought to do a good turn and help those women folks through.” “Aw, no! Let’s cut out the guide, then, and go through alone!” said Art. “No,” Mr. Rogers said, “I don’t remember the way. I was never through but once, years ago; besides, we’d miss half the sights.” “Say,” whispered Peanut, “will those _girls_ put on overalls?” “I guess they’ll have to,” said Mr. Rogers. “Me for that!” cried Peanut, with a whoop. “Go on, Art, by yourself, if you want. I’m going to be a gay little Sir Launcelot to a dame in overalls!” All the boys laughed, except Art, who was still scowling. “Cheer up, Art,” whispered Rob. “It sounds like fun to me. Look at that nice girl in the door; she’s looking at you.” Art turned instinctively, and his eyes met those of a very pretty girl in pink, who was in the doorway. He blushed. So did the girl. Peanut winked at Rob, who winked back. “He’ll come,” they each whispered to the other. Mr. Rogers was talking to the guide, and to the lone man who had accompanied this party. The man took him over to the women (there were two women and five girls), and the boys saw their Scout Master bow, and talk with them. A moment later he came across the room.