He had plenty to keep him busy, but all the tasks were more like play than work, and the fact that he was out of doors practically every moment of each day, and might as well have been outdoors at night as far as fresh air was concerned, made his duties easy, kept him fit and gave him a most voracious appetite of which he was inclined to be ashamed until he saw that it was no more remarkable than Steve Brown’s or Mr. Gifford’s, or, for that matter, some of the boys themselves! Things certainly tasted good, too. The food was plain but plentiful, and well-cooked. Kitty-Bett disdained coal, and the meats had a wonderful wood-fire flavour that appealed to appetites grown out-o’-doors. Blueberries were in season and wild raspberries were to be had for the picking. Fresh vegetables were brought every day from a neighbouring farm. There was hot meat at noon--steak or roasts--and cold meat for supper. The eggs were freshly-laid, and, whether boiled or made into one of Kitty-Bett’s inimitable omelets, were delicious. And as for Kitty-Bett’s pies and doughnuts and griddle-cakes! Well, words would have quite failed Sam there! The doughnuts--Kitty-Bett called them “fried-cakes”--were in such demand that he had to fry a batch almost every day. Between meals there was always a bowl of them on one of the tables in dining-hall, and there was no one to see whether you took one or a half-dozen. Fortunately, for a whole two weeks the weather was fair; pretty hot in the middle of the day, but cool enough at night to make at least one thickness of blanket acceptable. Life at The Wigwam was very pleasant, and to this effect Sam wrote home to his mother and sister, and, later, to Tom Pollock. Sam felt very grateful to Tom for having told him of the situation, and said so in the letter which he penned one Sunday afternoon, seated under the trees by the shore of the lake. Among other things, Sam wrote: “You were right about the railway fare. Mr. Langham asked me how much it was and he is going to pay it back to me at the end of the month. I told him he needn’t, but he said it was the custom and everybody got his travelling expenses, even Kitty-Bett, who is the cook and a wonder. I just wish, Tom, you could taste some of his blueberry pie. The shirts you sold me are fine, but I haven’t worn the sweater yet. The weather has been very warm and no rain yet. Have you started the nine again? Please write and tell me the news.” Tom replied very promptly and told all the happenings. The Blues were getting together again and Buster Healey was to catch for them. Sid was to play first base. They hadn’t arranged for many games yet, but Lynton had promised to play them a week from next Saturday. Tom was glad Sam liked the camp, and he and Sid meant to run up some time in August and see it.