CHAPTER XIII 



Camping With Old Ben 



WHEN old Ben told me one August day 

 that we would go away into the great woods 

 for a week's camping out, and that we would 

 start within a day or two, my joy knew no 

 bounds. 



I rolled upon the ground and shouted, 

 stood upon my head and turned hand-springs. 

 In fact, my joy was so great that I could not 

 find any kind of antic that quite expressed it. 



This had long been a dream of delight 

 which I had thought almost too good ever 

 to come true, but here it was about to be 

 realized. " Which would you rather live in, 

 a tent or a shack? " asked Ben, when I had 

 become sufficiently calmed to consider details. 



" A tent would be better in a rain-storm, 

 but a shack is mighty clean and pleasant, and 

 it smells so woodsy that I like it myself." 



" Wouldn't we come home, Ben," I asked, 



