“This is Nelson Tilford, isn’t it?” he asked, as they shook hands. “Glad to see you. Mr. Clinton didn’t get your letter until this noon, so we couldn’t meet you at the station. Did you have any trouble finding your way to us?” “No, sir,” said Nelson, “every one seemed to know all about the camp.” “That’s good. Well, let’s go up.” He took Nelson’s suit-case, despite the latter’s remonstrances, and led the way along the pier to a well-worn path which wound up the hill. Nelson, sensible of the frankly curious regard of the other fellows, followed. A bugle sounded clear and musical from the camp, and Nelson’s companion turned and waited for him to range himself alongside. “There’s the first supper call, now,” he said. “I guess you’re a bit hungry, aren’t you? By the way, I’m Mr. Verder, one of the councilors. There are four of us besides Mr. Clinton. You’ll meet them when we get up there. The Chief’s away this evening, but he’ll be back in time for camp-fire. We’re going to put you in Maple Hall, where the seniors bunk. That’s where I am, so if you want anything to-night don’t hesitate to ask me.” “Thank you,” answered Nelson gratefully. His companion chatted on while they climbed the path, which led by easy stages up the hill through a thin woods, and Nelson forgot his previous misgivings. If the fellows were as jolly as Mr. Verder, he reflected, he was pretty sure to get on. The man beside him seemed scarcely more than a big boy, and his sun-burned face was good to look at. He was dressed in a gray jersey bearing a blue C on the breast, gray trousers with a blue stripe down the seam, and brown canvas shoes. He wore no cap, and the warm tan extended well up into the somewhat curly hair. His arms were bare to the shoulders. Nelson concluded he was going to like Mr. Verder; he looked strong, alert, good-humored, and a gentleman. Two minutes of up-hill work on the winding path brought them to the clearing. The five buildings were arranged in what was practically a semicircle facing the end of the path. Back of them on all sides rose the forest. In the clearing a few trees had been allowed to remain, spruce in most cases, and one tall sentinel, shorn closely of its branches, and standing guard at the head of the path to the lake, had become a flagpole from which, as Nelson came into sight, the Stars and Stripes was being lowered, its place to be taken by a lighted lantern. Boys were coming and going between the buildings, or were scattered in little groups at the doorways.