New Walks in Old Ways 



marched valiantly to the test. Soon 

 the objective point was reached, and it 

 did not take boys very long to plan a 

 primitive camp. Dry logs were plenty, 

 and by the time the evening glow had 

 gone all was in readiness. Against big 

 rocks the camp fire soon was blazing 

 merrily, the magic circle formed, and 

 the vigil was begun. 



We were all familiar enough with the 

 old yellow-backed dime novels of that 

 day, with their hairbreadth escapes of 

 the early settlers, of Daniel Boone and 

 Simon Kenton and the rest, to tell 

 stories calculated to frighten anyone 

 half out of his boots, even under 

 ordinary conditions; and I am sure I 

 would have been quite willing to re- 

 nounce the enterprise after an hour of 

 this, if anyone else had suggested it, 

 but no one did. So we watched and 

 talked and listened and waited for a 

 long, long time. 



Night hawks and whip-poor-wills 

 and bats and owls sound all right when 

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