Herb set down his stick as he
spoke to turn a batch of them, which were steaming on the frying-pan,
tossing them high in air as he did so, with a dexterous turn of his
wrist.
The boys having performed hasty ablutions in the stream, devoted
themselves to their breakfast with a hearty will. There was little
leisure for discussing the midnight visit of the lynx, or for anything
but the joys of satisfying hunger, and taking in nutrition for the day's
tramp, as Herb was in a hurry to break camp, and start on for Katahdin.
The morning was very calm; there seemed no chance of a wind springing
up, so the evening would probably be a choice one for moose-calling.
In half an hour the band was again on the march, the business of
breaking camp being a swift one. The tent was on Herb's shoulders; and
naught was left to mark the visit of man to the humming stream but a
bed of withering boughs on which the lynx might sleep to-night, and a
few dying embers which the guide had thrashed out with his feet.
No halt was made until four o'clock in the afternoon.
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