September was horribly near. And worse,--there was coming that 5th day of September when a certain bell should ring again, and we trudge up Elm Street, fidgeting uneasily about in our new "fall" clothes. The spectre of that man, that arithmetic-man, whose name during the days of vacation it were almost profanation to speak, arose before us with a hateful leer. The nights and mornings had grown cooler, and where daisies and buttercups had blossomed at the roadside, the golden-rod and frost-flowers had it all their own way. But one last adventure we must have, one last protest in the name of liberty. And so we organized, on the third day of September, an extensive expedition for the morrow, and I went to spend the night with Ed Mason, to be ready to make an early start. I fell asleep, wondering if we might not discover some unknown countries during the next day. When I woke, a small, dim figure stood beside me, repeating the words, "It's half-past four." It took me a number of seconds to comprehend their meaning, and to recognize their speaker. Then I knew, of course,--this was the hour of rising for the great expedition into the backwoods, and here was Ed Mason telling me of that fact. By day, Mason stalked the earth, compelling and terrible, in all the majesty of nine years. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and none looked upon him without reverence. With his own strong right arm he had slain the musk-rat in its lair, and he had explored the fastnesses of "Second Woods,"--which, as everybody knew, were at least three-quarters of a mile beyond "First Woods." But now, in the chilly twilight before dawn, and clad in a single white garment, which hung from his shoulders angelwise, there lacked something of the awe which usually invested the Terror of the Neighborhood. Moreover, the nearly complete darkness which surrounded us, and eight solid hours of sleep from which I had just emerged, tended to make me slow of understanding. Only the afternoon before, and the world which had stretched beyond the borders of the town lay at our feet, awaiting our conquering footsteps. Now, the world seemed not only cold and dark, but immeasurably vast, and we no longer a pair of relentless Columbuses. Rather small, in fact, we seemed, and not wholly equipped to tame the jungle, and bring the desert to acknowledge its masters. However, I said nothing of this to Ed Mason, but arose and dressed. He was making ready in another room, and in a few minutes we tiptoed down the stairs. At five o'clock we were to meet other bold travellers at a rendezvous near the frog pond, and there was no time to be lost. Luncheons, a day's supply of food, had been prepared and put in boxes the evening before.