“The falls,” said Jimmy, “are right over in them woods t’other side of this pasture. If ’twasn’t for this pesky stone wall I’d drive right over there with ye. We’d ‘a’ done better to ‘a’ gone to Jules’. His place is only a little ways straight over here, but it’s a mile and more by the road.” “Well, we’ve travelled far enough for one day,” said Harry. “Let’s get our tent over into the pasture and pitch it there.” “Agreed,” said John. “The sky has been cloudy all the afternoon, and it looks more like rain than ever now. I shan’t feel easy till we get a roof over our heads.” They tumbled their bundles over the fence and made their driver happy with a half-dollar, with which he drove whistling away. He, however, informed them that “he guessed likely he’d get up to see ’em in a few days, if they didn’t get sick of camping before that and clear out.” [Illustration: AT THE PASTURE GATE] The campers dragged their bundles over to a low beech-tree a few rods distant, and beneath its spreading branches proceeded to erect their tent. Poles and pegs they cut in a thicket near by. Their chief trouble was the lack of a spade to make holes for the end poles in the hard earth. But they made the hatchet do the work, though the fine edge they had taken pains to put on it before leaving Boston disappeared in the process. After the tent was up they got their things into it and spread their bedding. The next thing was to hunt up a spring to serve as a water-supply. “You get out a lunch,” said John. “and I’ll fill this tin pail with water.” [Illustration: THE SHEEP PASTURE] That was easier said than done. He stumbled about in the dusk over the rough pasture-land with its tangle of ferns and hardhack bushes, and the best he could do was to get a couple of pints of fairly clean water from a rocky mud-hole. Afterward he scooped the hollow deeper with his hands, hoping it would soon fill with clear water. At the tent Harry had the lunch spread and had lit their lantern. “Do you know what time it is?” he asked. “It’s half-past eight. If we’d had any farther to go we’d have been in a fix. Is that all the water you could get? I’m dry as a desert.” “I’ll get more after supper,” said John. “I’ve tumbled half over the pasture and I can’t find anything but bog-holes.” [Illustration: A QUIET POND] After eating, both went out, Harry with the lantern, John with two pails. The clouds overhead had thinned and the stars twinkled through in places. The lantern with its two attendant figures went zigzagging over the lonely pasture waste to the water-hole. It had not yet cleared, but they skimmed off enough with a pail-cover to slake their thirst. They did not say much as they wended their way back to the tent, but both had the feeling that camping out was proving a rather severe experience of pioneering. “I’m dead tired,” said Harry, as he flung himself down on the bedding inside. “Let’s turn in for the night.”