Long ago Bob had acquired the ability to wake at any time he desired and, before going to sleep, he had set his mental alarm clock, as he called it, for four o’clock, and almost to the minute he opened his eyes. It was still dark and for an instant he wondered where he was. Then memory, aided by the heavy scent of the spruce boughs, returned and moving quietly, so as not to disturb his brother, he crawled out of his bag. A few live embers still smouldered among the ashes of last night’s fire and, with the aid of a few bits of birch bark, he soon had the blaze leaping toward the sky. Jack was a much sounder sleeper than his brother and, knowing that the boy would need all his strength for the strenuous day ahead, he let him sleep until breakfast was ready. “Why didn’t you let me sleep all day and be done with it,” Jack growled when Bob finally woke him. “It’s all right, dear boy,” Bob smiled. “There was no need of both of us getting up so early and I was awake and so I got up.” “Of course you didn’t have it planned or anything like that. Oh no, of course not. You always want to do all of your own work and a good part of mine too.” Bob laughed. “Never mind the bouquets,” he said. “Come and get some of these flapjacks under your belt and we’ll be hitting the long trail.” Dawn was just breaking when they started. It was cold and not a sound, save the soft creak of the frozen snow beneath their moccasins, broke the silence. One by one, as it seemed, the stars faded from out the cloudless sky as the darkness gave way to light. The sharp air, heavily laden with the odor of spruce and of balsam, made their lungs tingle with life as they drew in great gulps. “My, but it’s great just to be alive a morning like this,” Bob declared. “And especially up here in the Maine woods,” Jack added. “You said it,” Bob smiled. “It beats me how a man can be content to spend his life in a city and never know what the great out of doors is like.” Their way led through dense woods nearly all the time, and thanks to the heavy shade, the snow did not begin to soften until nearly eleven o’clock. By that time Bob estimated that they had made all of twenty miles and perhaps a little more. “Guess this is a good place for dinner,” he said as they came to a tiny stream about a foot wide. The land here was evidently rocky as the water was running with great swiftness. “I’ll bet this stream will be a rod wide in a few days, when the snow begins to go in good earnest,” he said as he threw off his pack. “We better rest for an hour,” Bob suggested after they had eaten their simple lunch. “We’ll more than make up for it. No use in wearing ourselves out and the going from now till night is going to be pretty heavy, let me tell you.”