"What! A can of oil to build yer fire with? Well, ye won't git it from me. I know a man as got blowed up apourin' oil on a fire. Why, shucks, boys, you don't need no oil ner paper nuther on that there island. Its chuck-full of silver birch trees, and there ain't no better kindlin' than birch bark."

Birch bark! Why, yes, why hadn't we thought of that? We had used it for torches the summer before and knew how nicely it burned. So back we skated to camp, and then, peeling off a large quantity of bark from the birch trees around us, we soon had a rousing big fire in front of the hut.



The Outdoor Fireplace.



But there were more things to be learned about open fires. In our summer outing Jack had done most of his cooking on a kerosene stove, and he soon found that it was a very different matter to cook over an unsheltered fire. The heat was constantly carried hither and thither by the gusts of wind, so that he could scarcely warm up his saucepans. We had to content ourselves with cold victuals for the first meal, but before the next meal time came around we had learned a little more about fire building. Two large logs were placed about 10 inches apart, and the space between them was filled in with pieces of bark and small twigs and sticks. The back of the fireplace was closed with stones. One touch of a match was enough to kindle the fire, and in a moment it blazed up beautifully. The logs at the sides and the stones at the back prevented the wind from scattering the flames in all directions, and a steady draft poured through the open end of the fireplace and up through the heart of the fire. The side logs were so close together that our cooking utensils could be supported directly on them.



A Stone-paved Fireplace.

The following summer we continued our open fireplace experiments. Instead of using logs we drove stakes into the ground, forming a small circular stockade about 2 feet high and 3 feet in diameter. A paving of small stones covered the floor of the fireplace, and a lining of stones was laid against the wall. The stakes were driven in on a slant, as illustrated in Fig. 198, so as to better support the stone lining. A break in the stockade at one side let in the necessary draft. Two of the stakes on opposite sides of the fire were made extra long, and were crotched at their upper ends. They served to support the cross stick from which our kettles were hung. This form of fireplace was more satisfactory for baking than the one in which logs were used for the side walls, because the stone lining retained the heat much longer. To bake biscuit, a pot of beans, or the like, the ashes would be drawn away from the stone paving and the pot placed directly on the hot stones, after which it was covered with hot embers and ashes.



A Cold Night in the Hut.

But to return to our experiences on the island. We found it very cold on the first night in the hut. We were afraid to build a fire inside lest the straw thatchings would catch lire, and so we huddled together in the corner, rolled up tightly in our blankets. But it was cold, nevertheless. We had no door to close the opening into the hut, and instead had piled up branches of cedar and hemlock against the doorway. But a bitterly cold northwest wind was blowing down the river, and we couldn't keep warm, no matter what we did. Most of the boys were ready to go right home, but we stuck it out until the morning, and then after we had toasted ourselves before a blazing bright fire, and had eaten a hot breakfast, we forgot much of the discomfort of the night and were ready for more "fun." We thought we would spend the next night in our tree house, and so, right after breakfast, we packed up our blankets and some provisions and started for the Jacob's Ladder.



Mountain Climbing.

Each fellow was provided with a pair of ice creepers of the same sort as we had used in connection with the rennwolf (see page 170). In addition to this each boy was provided with a home-made alpine stock, consisting of a stout wooden stick in the end of which a large nail was driven and the head filed off. Thus equipped we came to the foot of the cliff, and much to our delight found it one mass of ice from top to bottom. Now was our chance to try some Swiss mountain climbing. Bill took the lead, with an old hatchet in his hand, to hack out any necessary footholds in the ice wall, and the rest of us strung out behind him tied to a long rope, each boy about 10 or 12 feet from the one ahead. Bill cautioned us to keep our distance, holding the rope taut in one hand, so that if a fellow stumbled he could be kept from falling either by the one in front or by the one behind.

"Besides," he said, "if the rope drags on the ice, it is liable to be cut or worn so that it will break when any strain was put on it."

Now, one would think from all these precautions that we were launched on a perilous expedition. That was the impression we were trying to make on ourselves, though, as a matter of fact, anyone of us could have climbed the cliff unaided and without any ice implements if he had used ordinary care not to slip on the ice-clad ladder rounds or the snow-covered ledges.



A Poor Shelter.

The climb was without mishap and we reached our tree house, only to find it so badly racked by storm and weather that it was clearly out of the question to attempt to spend the night there. The wind howled around the house and whistled through dozens of cracks and chinks that had opened in the walls. All that we could do, therefore, was to turn back to the island and make the best of our straw hut again. On the way, however, we stopped at Lumberville for some straw to be used for bedding. The afternoon was spent sailing around on Lake Placid and the large smooth stretch above the island.



A Costly Camp Fire.



After supper Bill and Reddy went into the hut to arrange the straw bedding, while the rest of us gathered wood for a huge bonfire in front of the hut. The wind was blowing right down the river and we expected it to carry the warmth of the fire into the hut. The fire was built some distance in front of the doorway, so as to prevent the hut from catching fire. But we had evidently miscalculated the strength of the wind, for no sooner was the fire fairly started than a shower of flaming brands was blown right into the hut. In a moment the straw blazed up, cutting off all escape for Bill and Reddy. Fortunately the framing was not strong and the frost had loosened up the foundations, so that a few frantic kicks opened an exit in the rear of the hut just in time to save our comrades from cremation. Once it was fairly started we were powerless to put out the blaze until the hut was ruined. The snow that covered the walls checked the fire somewhat, but the thatching burned from the inside, melting the snow and dropping it suddenly into the flaming straw bedding on the floor. As we sat in a gloomy ring about the camp fire, watching the tongues of flame play about the charred ribs of our hut, we had reason to be thankful that the wind had played its pranks before we turned in for the night. What a risk we had run of being all burned to death! It made me shudder to think of it. Well, our hut was burned. What next? That was the question put before the society.

"Might build a snow hut," suggested Dutchy.

"Now, be sensible," answered Reddy. "We can't build a snow hut in five minutes."

"The best plan," I volunteered, "would be to go over to Jim Halliday's and ask him to let us sleep in his barn."

Immediately the suggestion was acted upon.



A Friend in Time of Trouble.

Old Jim Halliday greeted us very gruffly. He said he wouldn't have us in his barn. "You'll be amussin' up the hay so't wouldn't be fit fer the horses to eat. Any boy that is fool enough to build a fire on a straw bed ought to go right home to his mother, and he hadn't oughter be trusted with matches, nuther. He might get his fingers burned."

But I caught a twinkle in the old man's eyes and wasn't surprised to have him end his lecture by taking us into the kitchen and seating us around an old-fashioned log fire while "Marthy," his daughter, made us some hot coffee to take the chill out of our bones. We didn't sleep in the barn that night. The Hallidays had only one spare bed, hardly enough for six boys, and the old man didn't want to be partial to any two of us, but his daughter solved the difficulty by dragging down two large feather mattresses and laying them on the kitchen floor in front of the hearth.

Before bidding us "good night," Mr. Halliday put on his sternest expression and bade Marthy clear out all the matches from the room.

"Jest as like as not they'll set fire to the house," he growled. "I expect this is my last night on airth." And then, with a solemn warning not to hang our clothes on the flames, and to "keep them feather beds offen the embers," he left us to a comfortable night's rest.

In the morning, after we had disposed of all the hot griddle cakes we could eat, and had sincerely thanked our host and hostess for their hospitality, we wended our way back to the island, silently packed up our goods and started home for Lamington.

"Well, this isn't going to happen again," was Bill's comment. "Next year we'll have a log cabin on the island."



CHAPTER XVIII.

TRAMPING OUTFITS.

Our winter expedition to Willow Clump Island filled us with a wholesome respect for Arctic explorers. If we could find it so uncomfortable with the thermometer only at 10 degrees above zero, what would it be to endure a temperature of 40, 50 or even 60 degrees below zero? We were interested to learn how they managed to stand it. This led to a study of the subject in Mr. Van Syckel's library.



Sleeping Bags.

In one of the books Dutchy came across the description of a sleeping bag. It was made of reindeer's skin sewed into a large bag with the fur side turned in. This bag was large enough to hold three or four sleepers, and each man was covered with a pair of woolen bags, one bag slipped inside the other. The woolen bags were made of blankets sewed together and provided with flaps at the upper ends to cover the head of the sleeper.

Of course, we had to make a sleeping bag, too. The innermost bag was made of an old quilt and the next one of a blanket that we were fortunate enough to get hold of. But when it came to the reindeer skin we were balked, until we happened to run across a piece of rubber sheeting at the village store. This was a lucky find, for I doubt if one country store in a hundred carries such stock. The piece was just large enough to cover the blanket bag and allow for an ample flap to cover the head. To be sure, this furnished a shelter for only one person, and there were six in the society. It was clear that the treasury could not afford the expense of six sleeping bags; but as such a device would be useful only under very unusual circumstances we decided that two sleeping bags would be all the society would need. We had been rather curious to explore the country back of the hills on the Pennsylvania side of the river, and with some light provisions and these sleeping bags strapped to the back a couple of boys could make quite an extended tour, unmindful of weather conditions. On real hot nights a fellow could get into the quilt bag and sleep on the blanket and waterproof bag. In cold weather the combination of all three bags provided sufficient warmth. The rubber bag would protect the sleeper from any moisture in the ground, and would also keep him thoroughly dry, even in a pouring rain.



Bill's "Mummy Case."



Our second sleeping bag was Bill's own design, and was, in many respects, an improvement on the first, though it looked ridiculously like an Egyptian mummy case. The inner bags were just like those of the first sleeping bag, but as there was no more rubber sheeting in town we had to make the outer bag of enameled cloth, such as is used for carriage curtains. Out of this cloth Bill cut a piece of the shape shown in Fig. 200 to serve as bottom, sides and ends of the sleeping bag. The bag was sewed wrong side out; that is, the piece was laid with enameled side up, and then the corners were sewed together after painting the scams with white lead. Then a top piece was cut out, of the size indicated in Fig. 201. The edges were hemmed over a piece of rope, which thus formed a corded edge. Now, with the enameled side of the cover piece turned inward, its edges were sewed to the edges of the first piece. The bag was now turned inside out, so that the enameled surface lay on the outside and the seams turned inward. The corded edge on the cover piece lapped over the sides, forming a watershed.



It was Bill's idea to rig up the flap in such a manner that it would not lie against the face, so that the sleeper could have plenty of fresh air, even in rainy weather. This required the use of two headboards, of the form shown in Fig. 202. The headboards were connected at the bottom by a thin board, and to this framework the sides of the bag were nailed. To the end flap several cleats were nailed, adapted to fit into notches cut in the headboards. The cleat at the end of the flap was laid on edge, as shown, and fitted into deep notches in the headboards just above the edge of the cover piece. This held the flap securely, preventing it from flying open in a heavy wind. At the same time the small space between the flap and the cover piece allowed for an ample supply of fresh air. When using this sleeping bag, if there was any indication of a shower, we took care to have the head pointed to windward so as to prevent entrance of rain through this air space.



The "A" Tent.



In connection with the sleeping bags it may be well to describe here a curious shelter Dutchy and I came across in one of our tramps. It was just about dusk one day when we discovered a temporary camp at which a couple of men were preparing dinner. They informed us that they were naturalists on a two weeks' outing. At their invitation we joined camp with them. They had a small "A" tent of balloon silk, under which they kept their provisions. The tent had no ridge pole, but was supported instead by a rope stretched between two trees (see Fig. 205).



A Camp Chair.



The camp was also furnished with an easy canvas chair, made by driving a couple of short posts in the ground for front legs and a pair of longer ones for the back. A piece of canvas was hung over these posts, forming both seat and back. The posts were driven into the ground on a slant, as illustrated in Fig. 206, and the canvas was formed with pockets at the corners which were hooked over these posts. This made a very comfortable chair, though, of course, it was fixed to one spot. When the men moved camp they would carry with them only the canvas piece, and at the next stopping place new posts were chopped and used for legs.



The Camp Bed.



But what interested us most was the form of bed they had. This, like the chair, consisted of a piece of canvas arranged to be supported on posts cut from the woods in the neighborhood of the camp. The canvas piece was 3 feet wide and 6 feet long, with a wide hem at each side, forming pockets through which poles were passed, as in a stretcher. The ends of the poles were supported on posts driven into the ground. The poles were also propped up at the center, as shown, the pockets being cut away and bound, so as not to permit any wear on the canvas. To prevent the posts from leaning inward under the weight of the sleeper, they were braced apart by cross sticks.



The Camp Bed in a Shower.



As a precaution against rain, a tall post was set up at the head and another at the foot of the bed, and a rope was stretched over the posts with the ends fastened to stakes driven into the ground. Over this rope a rubber "poncho" was laid to keep off the rain. A "poncho," by the way, is a blanket of rubber cloth about 4-1/2 feet wide and 6 feet long, in the center of which is a slit through which you can put your head; then the rubber cloth falls over you like a cape, as in Fig. 210, and makes a perfect protection against rain. The ponchos these men had were not quite long enough to cover the whole bed, so they fastened umbrellas to the head posts, as shown in Fig. 211. During a shower in the woods the rain comes straight down in large drops, caused by the water collecting on the leaves. To prevent these large drops from splashing through the umbrellas, they laid pieces of cloth over the umbrellas, which served, like the fly of a tent, to check the fall of rain drops.



A Nightmare.

I slept in the mummy case that night and Dutchy in the first sleeping bag. It must have been about midnight when I was awakened by a most unearthly yell. It sent the cold chills running up and down my back. A second scream brought me into action, and I struggled to throw back the head flap, which had become caught. It seemed an age before I could open it and wriggle out of the bag. Dutchy was sitting up in bed with a look of horror on his face, and his whole body was in a tremor of fear. One of the men dashed a glass of water in his face, which brought him back to his senses. It was only a nightmare, we found. Dutchy dreamed he had been injured in a railway accident and had been taken for dead to the morgue. He tried to let them know that he was alive, but couldn't utter a sound, until finally he burst out with the yells that roused the camp. Then, as he awoke with the horror of the dream still on him, his eyes fell on the two stretcher beds that looked like biers and the black coffin-like sleeping bag. It was not much wonder that Dutchy was frightened. The camp did certainly have a most ghastly appearance in the vague moonlight that filtered through the trees, and it must have been still more gruesome to see the coffin and biers suddenly burst open and the corpses come running toward him. To prevent any further nightmare we set Dutchy's sleeping bag under the "A" tent, where he would be saved the horror of again waking up in a morgue.



Pack Harness.

In the morning our friends broke camp and started westward. Dutchy and I watched them packing up their goods into a couple of very compact bundles, which they strapped to their backs with a peculiar pack harness. I took careful note of the way the harness was put together, and when we returned to the island we made two sets for use on our tramping expeditions. A canvas yoke was first cut out to the form shown in Fig. 213. We used two thicknesses of the heaviest brown canvas we could find, binding the two pieces together with tape. The yoke was padded with cotton at the shoulders and a strap was fastened to each shoulder piece. These were arranged to be buckled to a pair of straps fastened to the back of the yoke and passing under the arms. Riveted to these straps were a pair of straps used for fastening on the pack. The yoke straps were attached with the rough side against the yoke, while the pack straps were riveted on with the rough side uppermost, as indicated in the drawing.



Riveting.



The method of riveting together the leather straps may need a word of explanation. A copper rivet was passed through a hole in the two straps; then the washer was slipped over the projecting end of the rivet. This washer had to be jammed down tight against the leather, and to do this we drilled a hole of the diameter of the rivet in a block of wood, and putting this block over the washer, with the end of the rivet projecting into the hole, we hammered the block until the washer was forced down tight against the leather. Then taking a light tack hammer we battered down the end of the rivet onto the washer. Care was taken to do this hammering very lightly, otherwise the end would have been bent over instead of being flattened.



CHAPTER XIX.

THE LAND YACHT.

Only one thing of importance occurred between our Christmas holidays and Eastertide: this was Bill's invention of the tricycle sailboat or land yacht. We had returned to school with sailing on the brain. Our skate sail served us well enough while there was any ice, but as spring came on we wished we had our canoe with us, or even the old scow to sail on the lakes near the school. Once we seriously considered building a sailboat, but the project was given up, as we had few facilities for such work. But Bill wasn't easily baffled, and I wasn't surprised to have him come tearing into the room one day, yelling, "I've got it! I've got it!" In his hands were two bicycle wheels, which I recognized as belonging to a couple of bicycles we had discarded the year before.

"What are you going to do with them?" I inquired.

"I'm going to make a tricycle sailboat."

"What?"

"A tricycle sailboat, a land boat, or anything you've a mind to call it. I mean a boat just like our ice boat only on bicycle wheels instead of skates. We can sail all over south Jersey on the thing. Come on down and help me build it."



The Frame of the Yacht.



I followed him to the shed at the back of the school and found that he had already procured a couple of scantlings for the frame of the boat. The sticks were 2 inches thick and 4 inches wide. The backbone was cut to a length of 10 feet, and a 5-foot link was sawed off for the crosspiece. The two pieces were securely nailed together about 3 feet from the forward end of the backbone. The crosspiece was set on edge, but a notch was cut in it about 1 inch deep to receive the backbone. We might have braced the frame with wooden braces, as in the ice boat, but we thought that this time we would vary the design by using wire bracing instead, thus making the frame much lighter. I asked Bill how he proposed to tighten the wire. Turnbuckles were the thing, but I knew that they were rather expensive.

"Just you leave that to me," said Bill. "I've a scheme that I think will work out all right."



A Simple Turnbuckle.



At the hardware store of the town we bought a pound of No. 16 iron wire, eight large screw eyes and six eye bolts, with nuts and washers. Both the screw eyes and eye bolts had welded eyes and the shanks of the eye bolts were 6 inches long. A pair of screw eyes were now threaded into the backbone at each side about 18 inches from the end, and at each end of the crosspieces an eye bolt was fastened. I began to see Bill's plan. He was going to draw the wire taut by tightening up the nuts on the eye bolts. To get the best effect the hole for the eye bolt had to be drilled in on a slant, so that the bolt would pull directly in the line of the wire. To get just the right angle we ran a cord from the screw eye on one side to the point where the bolt was to be inserted, and traced its direction on the crosspiece. The hole for the eye bolt was now drilled parallel with the mark we had traced. The same was done at the other end of the crosspiece. A pair of screw eyes were now screwed into the backbone at the fore end and a pair of eye bolts were set at a corresponding angle in the ends of the crosspiece. The crosspiece was notched at each side so that the nuts and washers on the eye bolts would have a square seating. Then we stretched on the wire guy lines, drawing them as tight as possible, with the eye bolts held in place by a turn or two of the nuts, after which we screwed up the nuts as far as we could, thus drawing up the wire until it was very taut. This done the second nut was threaded onto each bolt against the first so as to lock it in place and prevent it from jarring loose.



Stepping the Mast.

Our next task was to step the mast. We found in the shed an old flagstaff 15 feet long and 3 inches in diameter. The lower end of this, for about a foot, we whittled down to a diameter of 2 inches, and drove it into a hole in the backbone 12 inches from the forward end. The mast was stayed by a wire stretched from the head to an eye bolt at the fore end of the backbone. The end of the mast which projected below the backbone was stayed with wire running forward to an eye bolt and aft to a screw eye on the backbone, and also with a pair of wires running to screw eyes threaded into the crosspiece near the ends. We couldn't very well use eye bolts on these wires except at the fore end, but we stretched the wires as tight as possible before the screw eyes were screwed all the way in, and then, as we turned the screw eyes, the wire was wound up on them and drawn fairly taut. Fig. 219 shows a side view of the frame, and wires marked 1 and 2 are the same as illustrated in Fig. 218, which is a top or plan view of the frame.



Mounting the Frame on Bicycle Wheels.

We were now ready to mount the frame on the bicycle wheels. We used only the front wheels of the bicycles with the forks in which they were journaled. The shanks at the top of the forks were firmly driven into holes in the crosspiece near the ends. For the steering wheel Bill took the front fork and wheel of his new bicycle, letting the shank into a hole at the stern end of the backbone.



The Tiller.

For a tiller we used a piece of an old rake handle. A small hole was first drilled into the handle and the end of the stick was then split through the hole, permitting the projecting shank of the fork to be driven tightly into the hole. The split wood was now tightly closed onto the shank by means of a bolt (see Fig. 220). In the rubbish heap we found an old chair. The legs were sawed off and the seat was then firmly nailed to the backbone. The back of the chair was cut down so that it just cleared the tiller.



A "Leg-of-Mutton" Sail.



Everything was now completed but the sail. This was a triangular or "leg-of-mutton" affair, of the dimensions given in Fig. 222. It was made of light canvas, 30 inches wide, of which we bought 14 yards. Out of this we took one strip 18 feet long, one 13 feet, one 8 feet, and one 3 feet long. We had no sewing machine, and therefore had to sew the strips together by hand. The selvedge edges of the strips were lapped over each other about an inch and then they were sewed together sailor fashion, that is, each edge was hemmed down, as shown in Fig. 223. The strips were sewed together so that at the foot each projected at least 21 inches below the next shorter one. This done, the sail was cut to the dimensions given, allowing 1-1/2 inches all around for the hem. The hem was turned over a light rope, forming a strong corded edge. At the clew, tack and head loops were formed in the rope which projected from the canvas, and at intervals along the foot the canvas was cut away, exposing the rope so that the sail could be laced to the boom, as illustrated. The boom was a pole 11 feet long attached to the mast by means of a screw hook threaded into the end of the boom and hooked into a screw eye on the mast, after which the screw hook was hammered so it would close over the screw eye to keep it from slipping off. The sail was raised by a halyard passing over a block at the top of the mast. The sheet was fastened near the end of the boom, passed through a block on the backbone, back of the tiller, and through another block on the boom, and was led to a cleat within easy reach of the chair seat.



A Sail through the Country.



Our land yacht proved to be quite a successful craft in the flat country around the school. Of course, we could not sail everywhere; a country road is too narrow for any tacking when it comes to sailing against the wind. We hadn't thought of that when we made our trial trip. A strong east wind was blowing and so we ventured forth on a road that led due west from our school. Off we sped before the wind for two miles, until we came to a sharp turn in the road. Then we began to think of turning homeward. But this was a very different proposition. The wind was dead against us and to try to tack from side to side of the road was useless, because we would hardly get under way on one tack before we had to swing around on the other tack, losing all our momentum. It ended up by our lowering sail and ignominiously trundling the yacht back to school. After that we carefully selected our course, and never sailed away from home before the wind unless we knew of a roundabout way that would lead us back to port on a couple of reaches (long tacks).



CHAPTER XX.

EASTER VACATION.

Just before Easter that year Bill's Aunt Dorothy invited him to spend Eastertide with her and bring along his roommate. I accepted the invitation with alacrity. Bill had once spent a whole summer at his aunt's home, and when we arrived there he had many old haunts to visit. We spent the first day rambling through the woods, in the hills and back of the house.



Bill's Cave.

He introduced me to a cave which he believed was known to only two other boys, both of whom had since moved to New York city. The mouth of the cave was almost closed by a large boulder that had lodged in front of it. We had to climb to the top of this rock, and then letting ourselves down with a rope we slid down the sloping rear face of the boulder into a crevice in the rocks. Then after squirming under a ledge we emerged into a large chamber, which appeared to be as dark as night after our sudden entrance from the outer light.



Bill lighted a candle which projected from a chink in the wall. By its light I saw that there was a pool in the center of the cave fed from a spring at one point. From the pool the water trickled off into a tiny stream to the mouth of the cave, where it was lost in a crack in the rocks. The water was ice cold and clear as crystal. Around the pool were several chairs and a table made by Bill and his two friends. That was evidently where Bill had gotten his idea of a subterranean club.



The Barrel Stave Hammock.

Hanging between a couple of projecting rocks was a hammock made of barrel staves. The hammock was a very simple affair, made by drilling a 1-inch hole in each end of each barrel stave. The staves were then connected by two ropes on each side, woven alternately in and out through these holes, that is, one rope would be passed down through one stave, up through the next, down through the third, etc., and through the same holes another rope would be threaded in and out but in the opposite direction. The end staves of the hammock were provided with double holes, as shown in Fig. 228, so as to make them lie flat, then the ropes were threaded through them.



The Barrel Armchair.



Aside from the hammock and the rustic furniture there was a fine armchair, made from a barrel that had been sawed off, as in Fig. 229, to form the arms and back. The barrel was raised from the ground by setting it on a couple of boards arranged in the form of a V. Then a caster was fastened to the point of the V and another at each end, making a three-legged chair of it. The chair was upholstered with ticking stuffed with straw. First a piece of ticking large enough for the back was laid on the ground and covered over with an even layer of straw. Over the straw a second piece of ticking was laid, making what Bill called a "straw sandwich." This was nailed to the chair back along the edge and at the bottom, drawing the cloth as taut as possible. To make a better finish for the chair, the ticking was covered with dark red denim. Then strips of braid were laid on the chair back, crossing each other like a lattice. At the crossing points of the braid brass-headed tacks were nailed right through the sandwich into the wood, producing the padded upholstered effect. Next a long, thin sandwich was made to run along the edge of the back, and another one to run around the chair just below the seat, also a couple of small sandwiches to cover the legs and the brackets leading to them. These were all covered with denim before being tacked to the chair and then they were bound with tape at intervals to produce the padded effect. The rest of the woodwork was covered with denim, and a neat ruffle made by Aunt Dorothy hung about the bottom of the chair. A thick, round sandwich was now made to cover the seat board. This was also given a padded effect by binding it with tape. The seat board was not nailed to the chair, but rested on four cleats nailed to the barrel on the inside. When the seat was lifted out it uncovered a shallow chest in which various things could be stored.



The Summer Toboggan.

Bill informed me that he and his two chums used to spend hot summer afternoons in this cool place whittling out various ornaments and making furniture for the cave. In one corner were a number of home-made amusement devices, one of which struck me as rather odd. It consisted of a pair of large barrel staves, hollow side up and connected with two short boards, as in Fig. 233. Bill said it was a summer toboggan, to be used on grass instead of snow. I had never heard of such an affair, and, of course, had to have a demonstration. Bill went to the top of the hill and from there coasted down the grassy slope in fine style.



Tailless Kites.

"There's a better place over on the other side of the hill," he said, and led the way to his favorite coasting spot. But here our attention was diverted from coasting by the curious sight of a full-grown man flying a kite. We found out afterward that he was a Professor Keeler, who had made a great scientific study of kites. Professor Keeler was very affable, and we soon got acquainted with him. His kite was way up in the air, almost out of sight, and was pulling like everything. Neither Bill nor I could hold it long. But the most remarkable part of it all to me was the fact that the kite had no tail. I had heard of tailless kites made like a box, but this one appeared to be very much like the kites I had made in my younger days, and I well knew the importance of a long tail to keep such a kite steady. We asked the professor about it, and were informed that this kite was of the Malay type, which is so designed that the cloth bellies out into pockets on each side of the central stick or backbone, and these pockets balance the kite while the backbone acts as a rudder.

Finding that we were interested in the subject he gave us full instructions for making kites from 5 to 8 feet long, and these I jotted down for future use. In a 5-foot kite he said the stick should be 3/8 inch thick and 1/2 inch wide, in a 6-foot kite 7/16 inch thick and 9/16 inch wide, in a 7-foot kite 5/8 inch thick and 3/4 inch wide, and in an 8-foot kite 3/4 inch thick and 1 inch wide. On the following summer we built a 5-footer and also an 8-footer.



A Five-foot Malay Kite.

For the 5-foot kite we used two sticks of hickory 3/8 of an inch wide, 1/2 an inch thick, and each 5 feet long. According to directions, one stick was laid across the other at a point two-elevenths of its length from the top. Two-elevenths of 5 feet is a little less than 11 inches, and so we fastened on the cross stick 11 inches from the upper end of the backbone. The sticks were not nailed together, because this would have weakened the frame just at the point where it was under the greatest strain. Instead we followed the professor's directions and tied cleats to each stick, as shown in Fig. 235, so as to form sockets. Then the sticks were laid across each other, each stick fitting into the socket of the other, just like a mortised joint. A coat of shellac on the bottom of each cleat glued it temporarily to the stick, after which it was very tightly bound with fine cord. The stick and cleats were now thoroughly shellaced. The end of each stick was tapered off to receive a brass ferrule of the kind used on chisel handles. They can be bought at any hardware store. At the end of the backbone we fastened hooks made of brass, bent to the form shown in Fig. 236. The cross sticks were also provided with hooks, but these were double, as shown in Fig. 237, so that a hook lay on both the front and the rear side of the frame.



The frame was covered with a kind of cloth called "percaline." The cloth was hemmed along each edge over heavy picture wire, and at each corner the wire was twisted around a small solid ring of brass. The rings were now slipped over the hooks on the frame and then the cross stick was bowed back by fastening a wire to the rear hooks and drawing it taut. Professor Keeler told us to tighten this bowstring until the distance from the wire to the cross stick at the center was equal to one-tenth of the length of the stick. As our sticks were each 5 feet long we tightened the wire until the cross stick bowed out 6 inches, as in Fig. 239. The belly band of the kite was fastened at one end to the lower end of the backbone and at the upper end to a wire hook at the juncture of the two sticks. The hook was fastened to the cross stick by flattening the ends and running them under the cord used for binding on the cleats (see Fig. 240). A buttonhole was made in the cloth covering to let this hook project through. The belly band was just long enough, so that it could be stretched over to one end of the cross stick, as in Fig. 241, and at this point, that is, 30 inches from the upper end of the belly band, a brass ring was made fast, to which the main kite string was tied. The kite possessed the advantage that it could be quickly taken apart and folded into a small space.



An Eight-foot Malay Kite.



Our 8-foot kite was made in the same way only the sticks were 3/4 inch thick, 1 inch wide and 8 feet long. The cross stick was fastened 17-1/2 inches (two-elevenths of 8 feet) from the top of the backbone and it was bowed back 9-1/2 inches (one-tenth of 8 feet). The wire in the hem of the covering was a double thickness of the heaviest picture wire obtainable.



The Elastic Belly Band.

An important change was made in the belly band of the kite. The lower strand was made elastic by tying it fast to a number of heavy rubber bands, as in Fig. 242. When flying the kite, if a sudden, strong puff of wind struck it, the elastic belly band would give, tilting up the lower end of the kite so that the wind passed under; but as soon as the gust had passed the rubber bands would draw the lower end of the kite back against the wind. The elastic belly band had the effect of making the kite rise almost vertically. Sometimes it would even sail square overhead. The 8-foot kite was a very powerful one. To hold it we had to use a very strong cord, the kind used by upholsterers for tying down the springs in a chair or a sofa.



Putting the Kites to Work.

Bill tested the strength of the kite once by hooking a spring scale to the kite string. The scale was made to register weights up to 25 pounds. But our kite yanked the pointer immediately past the 25-pound mark as far as it would go. We judged from this that the kite would lift at least 40 pounds. Such a pull as this it seemed a pity to waste, but how to utilize the power was a problem until one day, when the kite was soaring up on a south wind, Dutchy suggested that we tie it to one of the canoes and go sailing upstream. We tried the trick at once, but it didn't work very well, because the canoe was too light. The kite would drop unless there was a heavy pull on the string. We had better success with the scow, however, which provided a sufficient drag on the kite, and with the two kites to pull us we sailed a long ways upstream, drifting down with the current when we had gone as far as we cared to.



The Diamond Box Kite.

Professor Keeler also gave us instructions for making a diamond-shaped box kite, and though we never built one, it may not be amiss to publish his instructions here. I quote from the chronicles of the S. S. I. E. E. of W. C. I.:

"Materials: Four sticks, 1/4 inch thick by 5/8 inch wide by 44 inches long, for the corner sticks. Two sticks, 1/4 inch thick by 5/8 inch wide by 15 inches long, for the short spreaders. Two sticks, 1/2 inch square by about 38 inches long, for the long spreaders. Two strips of cloth 81 inches long, hemmed at each edge to a width of 13 inches. Whittle out twelve cleats to the form shown in Fig. 244. At the ends of the 15-inch spreaders nail cleats on each side with long wire brads, so as to form forks, as shown in Fig. 245, in which two of the corner sticks are held. The short spreaders are fastened to the corner sticks, 7 inches from the ends, with brads driven through the cleats, making the frame (as in Fig. 246). To prevent the frame from skewing off sidewise it should be braced with wire running diagonally across from one corner stick to the other. Ordinary soft stovepipe wire will do. Care must be taken to have the spreaders meet the corner sticks squarely or at right angles. Now take one of the cloth strips and sew its ends together to form a band. The end should be lapped about an inch and fastened with the sailor stitch (see Fig. 223). The same should be done to the other cross strip, and then each band should be marked off with pencil lines at four points, all equidistant from each other. The two bands may now be tacked to the two ends of the frame with opposite pencil lines over the edges of the corner sticks, as in Fig. 247. The two remaining corner sticks are then nailed to the bands at the two other pencil lines. These corner sticks will now be braced apart by the long spreaders, which are notched to the right length to stretch the cloth taut. A cleat is nailed over each notch, as shown in Fig. 248, forming forks to hold the corner pieces. The long spreaders are now forced down until they meet the short spreaders, to which they are tied with waxed string. The long spreaders may be nailed to the corner sticks by driving brads right through the cloth into the cleats and the sticks. The belly band may be fastened to any one of the corner sticks at the spreaders, and from the points where it is tied it should measure about 45 inches in length. The point where the main string should be attached to the belly band may be best determined by experiment."



CHAPTER XXI.

THE WATER WHEEL.

Summer found us again on Willow Clump Island with heads full of new ideas. Bill had come across an old copy of Ewbanks' "Hydraulics" in the school library. It was a book describing machines of the ancients—principally devices for raising water. Rather dry reading, I thought, even though it was a wet subject; but Bill seemed to find it absorbingly interesting. I came in late one afternoon, after a glorious game of baseball, only to find Bill poring over the yellowed leaves of the "Hydraulics" as fascinated as most fellows would be over a detective story. It exasperated me to note that he thought more of this old book than he did of our baseball team.

"Bill," I exclaimed, "what's got into you? I can't for the life of me see what is so entertaining in that prehistoric book." "Oh, go way. Don't bother me," was the surly reply. But I wouldn't be put off that way. Quickly I snatched the book from his grasp and threw it out the window.

"Now, sir," I cried, "maybe you will kindly explain to me why you persist in studying that old volume, to the neglect of our baseball team."

"Don't get so excited, old chap," he replied. "That book is all right. I'm studying up some new schemes for next year's expedition to Willow Clump Island. Why, there are lots of things in that old book that we can make." And he proceeded to unfold his plans, sketching out some curious designs of water wheels and pumps.

By the time school closed for the summer Bill had thoroughly digested that volume, and was ready to reconstruct many of the ancient machines.



The Water Wheel.

Our first work on reaching the island was to erect a water wheel, or "noria," as it was called in the book, in front of the camp. It had been a great nuisance to keep our filter barrel full. Every few days we would have to form a bucket brigade, passing pails of water up the line until the barrel was filled. Now Bill proposed to do away with all this bother and let the river do the work for us.



Surveying for the Water Wheel.



We first determined the height of the upper filter barrel above the level of the river. This was done with our surveying instrument, which was set level with the top of the barrel. We sighted with the instrument to a long pole that was held upright at the edge of the water. The pole had been marked off into feet with white chalk marks, and on sighting through the sight holes we found that the hairs came in line with the eleventh chalk mark. The top of the filter was, therefore, 11 feet above the level of the river. Bill figured that it would be necessary to construct a wheel about 15 feet in diameter in order to raise the water to the proper height.



Towers for the Water Wheel.



First we built the towers to support the wheel. One tower was 16 feet high and the other only 10 feet. The large tower was made something like a very tall and narrow saw-horse. Two stout poles 17 feet long were flattened at their upper ends and nailed together, with the ends projecting about a foot, as shown in Fig. 251. At the bottom these poles were spaced 8 feet apart by a cross bar, and about 9-1/2 feet from the bottom a pair of boards were nailed to opposite sides of the pole to serve as supports for the axle of the water wheel. Another pair of 17-foot poles was now similarly fastened together and then the two pairs were spaced about 12 feet apart and connected at the top and bottom with boards. At the top two smooth boards were used and these were nailed to the inner sides of the projecting ends, which were tapered off. In this manner a V-shaped trough was formed. The boards were firmly nailed together at their meeting edges so as to prevent them from warping apart. A diagonal brace at each corner made the wedge-shaped tower very substantial. A number of cleats nailed to one of the poles provided a ladder by which we could mount to the top of the tower. The shorter tower was a three-legged affair, made of three 12-foot poles. At first two of these were flattened and nailed together at their upper ends, and they were braced at the top and bottom. The third leg was then nailed in place and braced by cross bars connecting it with the other two poles.



The Wheel.

We were now ready to make the wheel. From Lumberville four 1/2-inch boards, each 3 inches wide and 15 feet long, were procured; also a bar of iron 3/4 of an inch in diameter and 2 feet long. At the center of one of the boards a block of wood 4 inches long and 4 inches in diameter was nailed on for a hub. A 3/4-inch hole was now drilled through this hub and the board. Holes were also drilled into the other boards at their centers. Then they were all strung onto the bar and spaced like spokes at equal angles apart. Bill had figured it out some way that the ends of the boards should be just about 5 feet 10-1/2 inches apart. When the boards were all arranged we nailed them together at the center, and connected the ends with narrow tie boards, as indicated in Fig. 256.



The Buckets.

Eight large tomato cans were now procured and fastened to the spokes at the ends on the inner side, that is, the side the hub was nailed to. We couldn't very well nail on the cans, so we punched two holes in the side of each can and then secured them to the spokes by passing bolts through these holes and the boards.



The Paddles.

Then we cut sixteen paddles of the form shown in Fig. 257. Eight of these were 12 inches long, and the rest measured 18 inches. A slot 3 inches deep was cut in each paddle of just the right width to slip over the tie boards. The shorter paddles were fastened on just back of the spokes, and the rest were secured half-way between each spoke. The paddles were braced by stretching a wire from one to another all the way around the wheel.



The Receiving Trough.

Our next task was to nail the receiving trough in place on the higher tower. We set up the towers on land and mounted the wheel between them with the axle resting in the crotch of the short tower and in a deep notch cut in the cross boards of the larger one. The cans on the wheel faced the larger tower, but the hub at the center and a block nailed to the larger tower spaced the wheel far enough out so that the cans did not strike the tower as they revolved. We carefully measured the distance between the spokes and the larger tower, and then built a square trough of a size to just fit into this space. This trough was nailed across the end of the V-shaped trough on top of the tower, but a notch was cut in the side so that the water would pour from the square or receiving trough into this V-shaped one. The square trough was about 8 feet long and its sides were 12 inches high; but at the ends we had to cut them down to a height of but 6 inches, so as to permit the cans to pass without hitting them.



Setting Up the Towers.

Our filter was located nearly 20 feet from the end of the river, and in order to get a good current of water to revolve our wheel we had to place it about 15 feet from shore. This necessitated building a trough line 35 feet long. Ten feet of this line were already provided in the top of the tall tower. This tower was now set up in place with the legs firmly wedged into holes excavated in the bottom of the river. The legs on the shore side were sunk a little deeper, so as to tilt the trough slightly shoreward. The outer end of the trough was about 12 feet above the level of the water. We needed but one more tower to support the remainder of the trough line. This tower was built like the first one, but was much shorter, as it was erected on land and the level of the trough at the top had to be 5 or 6 inches lower so as to make the water flow. We connected the towers by another V-shaped trough section. This we nailed to the under side of the first trough and to the inside of the second trough. The latter was then in the same way connected by a trough section with the upper filter barrel. We now rigged up our shorter tower about a foot from the taller one, wedging in the legs so that the top came level with the slotted boards of the other tower.



Mounting the Water Wheel.

Then came the task of mounting our wheel in place. We were working in a pretty strong current and found it no easy matter. In the first place, the wheel was floated down to the towers, but there it got jammed and we couldn't lift it up. One of the paddles was broken and a bucket wrenched off before we could disentangle the wheel from the towers, and then the wheel was carried quite a distance down-stream before we could drag it in to shore.

Our next attempt was more successful. This time we anchored the wheel so that it just cleared the towers, then fastening a couple of long guy ropes to it, we raised the wheel on edge, while a boy stood on each side holding the ropes to keep the wheel steady. The anchor rope was now slowly paid out and the wheel was rolled in between the towers. This done, the wheel was lifted up and the axle rod was pushed in, with the ends of the rod resting in slots of the boards on the tall tower and in the crotch on the shorter one. To prevent the axle rod from working endwise out of its bearings, we nailed pieces of wood across the crotch and the slots against the ends of the rod. Then we cast off the anchor rope and our wheel started work, the cans dipping up the water as they were carried around by the wheel and pouring it out of the top into the receiving trough, from which the water flowed down into the filter barrel.



Cooling the Filter Barrel.



The trough line was very leaky and a great deal of water splashed out of the buckets. But for all that, within a few moments our barrel was full and overflowing. We hadn't figured on its filling so rapidly, but we soon found a way of utilizing the surplus water. It was led to a half-barrel in which we washed our dishes, and from there it flowed through a ditch back to the river. The water for the wash barrel was taken from the top of the upper filter barrel. But we let the lower filter barrel flow over so that it would be kept wet on the outside. Our filter was fortunately placed at a point where a good breeze struck it, and we shoveled away the earth that had been piled around it so that the wind playing on the wet barrel evaporated the moisture, making the water inside very cool.



The Canvas Bucket.

This same trick was used for cooling our drinking water whenever we went off on an expedition away from camp. We had a heavy canvas bucket, the kind used on ships. We would fill this bucket with water and then hang it up in the wind. The water seeping out of the pores of the bucket would be evaporated by the wind, and this would, in a few moments, make the water inside delightfully cool. Such buckets may be bought for $1.50 to $2.00 apiece, but ours was a home-made affair, and made somewhat differently from the store kind. The canvas used was the heaviest we could find. A piece 9 inches in diameter was cut out for the bottom. A ring 7 inches in diameter, made of heavy brass wire, was laid on the canvas, and the cloth was turned over it and sewed down the inside of the ring. For the sides of the bucket we cut a piece 14 inches wide and 23 inches long. The upper edge was strengthened by a piece of light rope held in place by hemming the cloth over it. The lower edge was now sewed to the bottom, just inside the wire ring and then the ends of the piece were joined, completing the sides of the bucket. The bail of the bucket was formed of a piece of rope fastened to the roped upper edge of the bucket.



But to return to the current wheel; the day after it was completed, when I went over to Lumberville for the mail, I was met by old Jim Halliday, who wanted to know what sort of a rig we had out on the river. I told him, and after a dint of much persuasion, induced him to take a ride back in the scow with me. He had never visited our camp and hadn't realized how handy we were with the tools, because, with the exception of the current wheel, all our work had been done on the opposite side of the island. We made him a guest of honor, showing him over the whole place. The bridges struck him as remarkably clever, but what pleased him most was our current wheel.

"I swan," he said. "Ef that ain't jest the thing I have been awantin' for the past twenty year. What'll ye sell me the hull plant fer, boys?"



Mr. Halliday's Water Wheel.

We thought he was fooling at first, but when he had assured us that he was in earnest, Bill told him that we needed our own plant, but we could build him a similar and even better current wheel for any amount he thought it was worth to him. The figure settled on was six dollars (a dollar apiece) for our work, Mr. Halliday paying for the material. It was not a large sum, but it seemed a lot to us, and considering the scarcity of money in that region it was pretty generous pay. We built Mr. Halliday's current wheel just like our own, except that the paddles were much broader, and instead of using cans for the buckets Mr. Halliday supplied us with small dinner pails. The method of fastening on the pails is shown in Fig. 263. A stick was nailed across the end of each spoke and the bail of the pail was held by a screw eye threaded into this stick. The pails would hang straight, holding all the water without spilling a drop until the receiving trough was reached. This trough was fastened high enough to strike the bottom of the pails as they went by, tipping them over and emptying them of their contents. From the trough the water ran directly into a large cider barrel and from here was carried through a pipe to Mr. Halliday's barn. A stopcock was here provided so that he could turn the water on or off as he desired. The use of pails was a great improvement on tin can buckets. Fully three times as much water was poured into the receiving trough, because not a drop was spilled out on the way up.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE LOG CABIN.

Immediately after fitting out Jim Halliday with his water wheel we set to work on our log cabin. As a model we had a photograph of a log hut which Uncle Ed had sent us. As the cabin was designed particularly for use in winter time, we decided that it should be located where it would be sheltered from the northern winds and would be exposed to the sun. The ideal spot seemed to be on the southern shore of Kite Island, which was backed by a thick grove of trees but gave an unobstructed view in front for a distance of about four miles down-stream.



Foundation of Log Cabin.

First we staked out the plan of the house. It was to be 12 feet long by 10 feet wide, so we leveled off a space of this area, and at the corners, where the greatest weight of the building would come, large rocks were embedded in the ground.



A Logging Expedition.

The logs for the house were cut from a tract of wooded land about five miles up the river, belonging to Mr. Schreiner. To be sure we could have cut the timber from our own island, but when Reddy had said something to his father about our building a log cabin, Mr. Schreiner had warned us not to cut down any of the trees without the owner's permission. All we could learn about the owner was that his name was Smith, and that he lived somewhere in New York city. It seemed unlikely that he would ever have anything to say about our cutting down a few trees, but rather than run any risk Mr. Schreiner advised us to make use of his woods for any timber we might need. Accordingly we started out early one morning on a logging expedition. We had no apparatus for handling any logs more than 6 or 8 inches in diameter, and Bill reckoned it out that we would have to have about fifty logs of this size for the sides of the building alone. This did not mean that fifty trees had to be chopped down, because we could usually cut two logs from a single tree. As the logs would have to overlap about a foot at each corner, we had to cut the longer ones to a length of 14 feet and the others to a length of 12 feet. Aside from these we had to have several 16 foot logs for the roof. Only the straightest logs were chosen, and while Bill and Reddy wielded the axes the rest of us hacked off the small branches with hatchets and hauled the sticks down the river. Here we tied them together to make a raft.



The Log Raft.



This was done by running a pair of ropes alternately over and under the logs at each end (see Fig. 264). About fifteen were thus fastened together, and then as an extra precaution a log was laid across each end of the raft and tied fast. As soon as we had cut enough timber for our first raft, we all ceased work, to take a ride down the river on the logs. Two of us, armed with poles, were to do the steering. There was one spot in the river of which we were rather apprehensive. That was a bit of shallow, swift water three miles from camp. A line of rocks jutted up from the river, forming a natural dam which was broken only at the eastern end. The water swirled madly through this opening, and veering off a huge rock which lay directly in front of the gap turned sharply westward. As we neared this dam the river became deeper and deeper, until finally we could no longer reach bottom with the poles, and could not properly steer the boat. For some time we drifted helplessly round and round in the still water above the dam. Then suddenly the current caught us and we swept like a shot for the opening. The gap was quite wide, and had we only thought to provide ourselves with oars we could have steered the raft clear of the rocks below, but we were entirely at the mercy of the current, and with a terrific crash we were hurled head on against the boulder.

Just what happened then I can not say. When I undertook to record the incident in the chronicles of the S. S. I. E. E. of W. C. I., I found there were five entirely different versions of the affair besides my own. I knew that immediately after the shock I found myself struggling in the water just below the rock over which I must have been slung by the force of the impact. Dutchy declared up and down that he had sailed fifty feet in the air astride of a log. Bill had been almost stunned by a blow on the head and was clinging desperately to a jagged projection of the rock. The ropes that had held the raft together had parted, scattering the logs in all directions, and I could see the rest of the crew hanging on to them for dear life.

Shouting to Bill to let go his hold on the rock. I swam over and caught him as he drifted down, then I helped him ashore. Leaving Bill to recuperate I rushed down the bank, shouting to the others to paddle the logs over toward shore. Then I plunged in, and pulling myself up on the nearest log, paddled shoreward as we had done on the planks when shooting the rapids. In this way one by one we corralled the logs, and after tying them together again resumed our voyage down the river. We now had no swift water to fear and were able to guide the raft successfully down to Lake Placid. But here we moored it, not venturing to take it past the millrace until we had gotten the oars from the scow and nailed on oar locks at each side and the rear, so that we could properly row and steer the raft safely to Kite Island.



The Sail-Rigged Raft.



When we went up the river again we carried the oars with us, also the sail and mast belonging to our ice boat, as there was a good breeze blowing down-stream. Our second trip was more successful. The mast was stepped in a small but solid box nailed to the logs. In the top of this box a hole was cut for the mast to fit into and then the mast was braced with guy lines. We came down the river in fine style, steering straight for the opening in the dam, and just as we were about to shoot through Reddy and I plied the oars for all we were worth on the port (left) side so as to swing the raft around past the boulder. However, we didn't escape entirely without accident, for the raft rode up on a submerged ledge, dipping the starboard side clear under water and nearly tipping us over. But in a moment the raft had righted itself and we had smooth sailing for the rest of the way.



Building the Log Cabin.



Our third expedition completed the number of logs we required for the log cabin. Two large 12-foot logs were chosen for the foundation logs at the front and rear of the building. The logs were flattened along the bottom so that they would have a firmer bearing on the ground, and particularly on the corners, where they rested on foundation stones. Each log was now notched about a foot from the ends. The notches were 8 inches long and about 2 inches deep. Care was taken to place those on one log squarely opposite the notches on the other. A pair of 14-foot logs were now laid across the foundation logs and rolled along them until another half-turn would have dropped them into the notches (shown in Fig. 266). Then notches were cut in the 14-foot logs to correspond, so that when the final half-turn was given one notch would fit over the other, making a mortise joint (Fig. 267). When the side logs were in position notches were cut in their upper surface to receive a pair of 12-foot logs which were rolled onto them, notched and dropped into place. Then another pair of side logs were laid on, and so the work progressed. The notches in each log were cut to a depth equal to one-quarter the diameter of the log; that is, if the log was 8 inches in diameter the notch was made 2 inches deep, and if 6 inches in diameter it was cut to a depth of 1-1/2 inches. When the logs were laid in place no space intervened between them, as will be clearly understood by reference to Fig. 268.

We found, after a few logs had been set in place, that our cabin was growing faster at one end than at the other. The trouble was that our logs were not of uniform diameter throughout and we had been laying the butt ends, which were larger, all at one end of the building. So we had to take down the logs and relay them with the butt end of the front foundation log at one end and that of the rear foundation log at the other. Then the cross logs were laid on with their butt ends on the small ends of the foundation logs. The next end logs were laid with their small ends on the butt ends of the cross logs, and so on, taking care never to lay the butt end of one log across the butt end of another. In this way the walls were built up evenly to a height of 3 feet.



We had planned to make a large open fireplace in the cabin, and this necessitated cutting an opening in the rear wall. But we did not want to cut the opening until the wall was built up to its full height lest it might buckle while the remainder of the logs were being placed in position. So we merely cut a piece out of the top log to make room for a saw when we were ready to cut the complete opening. As our fireplace was to be 5 feet in width, a 5-foot piece was cut out of the center of the log. Then the ends were supported by cleats nailed on each side, as shown in Fig. 269. This done the building was continued as before, but as the walls grew we found it more and more difficult to raise the logs to position. We could not lift them directly to the top of the wall, but had to roll them up on "skids"; that is, on a pair of 14-foot logs which were laid against the top of the wall. When the walls had reached a height of about 5 feet above the foundation logs, a length 4 feet 9 inches long was cut out of the top log to allow space for sawing out the front door and window, and also a 30-inch piece was cut out for the side window. Cleats temporarily held the sawed ends of the logs, while the walls were carried on up to a height of a little over 6 feet from the foundation logs.



The Roof of the Log Cabin.

Then we started laying the roof. A 16-foot log was now notched in place at each side, with its forward end projecting about 3 feet over the front of the cabin to form a shelter in front of the building. A pair of 12-foot logs were then laid in position. The next pair of 16-foot logs were laid about 20 inches in from the sides, and after a pair of the cross logs had been set in place a third pair of logs were laid about 40 inches from the sides. Finally, a single 16-foot log was set in place at the center, to serve as the ridge beam of the roof. The roof logs were all carefully tested to see if they were sound before we laid them in place, because we did not want to run any risk of the roof falling in, particularly in the winter time, when it would be heavily covered with snow. A chalk line was drawn from the ridge beam to the lower roof beam, and the cross logs were sawed off along this line, as indicated in Fig. 271. Several slabs were now procured and laid across the roof beams to serve as rafters. These rafters projected about 18 inches beyond the side walls of the cabin, so as to support the eaves. Over the rafters we laid a roofing of slabs; starting with the bottom and lapping them, as we had done on our tree house.



The Door and Window Frames.

We were now ready to cut out and frame the doors and window openings. The front window of the cabin was to be close beside the door, so we merely widened the door opening at the top to include the window opening as well (see Figs. 271 and 272). The door was made 2-1/2 feet wide, and was cut down to the foundation logs. The window opening was cut to a depth of 24 inches. Before sawing out the opening we wedged pieces of wood between the logs along the line we were to follow with the saw, so as to keep them in place. After the opening had been made a couple of stout boards were nailed to the sawed ends of the logs at each side, to hold them securely in place and make a suitable framing for the door. The cleats were then removed. The foundation log and the one at the top of the opening were flattened, to serve as the sill and lintel of the door. Between the door and window a short post was wedged in place. This post was flattened on opposite sides, so that the door jamb could be nailed against it on one side and the window frame on the other. The side window was next cut out and framed. After it had been framed it measured 2 feet square.



The Fireplace.

Then came the task of building our fireplace. First we sawed out the opening, cutting right through the rear foundation log. Then we gathered from the river a large number of the flattest stones we could find. With these we planned to build the three outer walls of our chimney. But the question of getting mortar to bind the stones together bothered us for a while.

"If only we could find a bed of clay. Don't any of you know of one around here?" queried Bill.

But none of us remembered seeing any clay bed in the vicinity.

"If we were in south Jersey now," I said, "we could use some of that red mud they have down there. It sticks like the mischief to shoes and pant legs. I bet it would hold those stones together."

"Red mud? Why there's plenty of it over the hill, back of Lumberville," said Reddy. "All the roads over there are red shale roads, and I saw some red banks along the river when we went after the logs."

That was just what we wanted. The banks Reddy referred to turned out to be genuine red shale, and soon we had ferried several scow loads of the stuff down to Kite Island. When the shale was wet it made quite a sticky mortar. The foundations of the chimney were laid in a trench about 2 feet deep, and the side walls of the chimney were carried inside of the cabin and covered the ends of the logs at the chimney opening. The side walls extended outward a distance of 3 feet, where they were joined by the rear wall of the chimney.



The Proper Way to Build a Stone Wall.

In making our chimney we could not rely on the red shale to hold the stones as firmly as good lime mortar would, so we had to be careful that each stone, as it was laid, had a firm bearing. The stones were embedded in a thick layer of mud, and if they showed any tendency to teeter we propped them up by wedging small stones under them until they lay solid. Another thing that we were very careful about was to "break joints"; that is, to keep the joints in each layer of the stones from coinciding with those in the next layer, above or below. To make sure of this we made it a point to lay a stone over each joint in the top of the wall and then to fill in the space between the stones with smaller stones. In this way the wall was made very substantial.

When the masonry had been carried up to the top of the chimney opening, a heavy timber about 12 inches wide was laid across the walls close against the wall of the building. This was to support the fourth wall of the chimney, and so we flattened its upper surface. To prevent it from catching fire it was covered with a thick plastering of mud, and then to keep the mud from cracking and flaking off we procured a piece of tin and tacked it over the log. The tin also extended over the top log of the opening. Then we went on with the building of the chimney walls, carrying them up about a foot above the ridge of the roof. Our chimney was completed by paving the bottom with stones, well packed in mud and nicely smoothed off to make the hearth. The hearth extended about 18 inches into the cabin, and was framed with logs, as shown in Fig. 275.



The Floor of the Cabin.

A number of logs were now laid on the ground to serve as floor beams. Slabs were used for the floor. We had some trouble in making the floor perfectly even, because the floor beams were rather irregular, and a great deal of time was spent in smoothing the logs off to a common level. If we had the work to do over again we would have bought two or three planks and laid them on edge to support the flooring.



The Door Hinges and Latch.

A door was now constructed by battening together a number of slabs. In place of a hinge a hole was drilled into the sill and another into the lintel directly in line with it. Two sticks of wood were then whittled to fit snugly, but without jamming, into these holes. These sticks were then nailed to the inner face of the door, with their whittled ends projecting into the holes, forming pintles on which the door could turn. A narrow strip of wood was nailed to the outer jamb for the door to close against. The latch consisted of a stick of wood, fastened to the door at one end with a nail. It hooked onto a catch whittled out of hard wood to the form illustrated in Fig. 278, and nailed to the jamb. Then to keep the latch from dropping too far when the door was open, and to guide it when slammed against the catch, we whittled out a guard piece to the form illustrated in Fig. 277, and nailed this to the door, with the latch projecting through the slot of the guard. A string was now fastened to the latch and passed through a hole in the door. A block was tied to the end of the latch string to prevent it from slipping back through the hole; but at night, when we did not want to be molested by any intruders, we untied the block and drew in the latch string.



The Window Sash.

For our windows we made wooden sashes which fitted nicely into the window openings. A small hole was drilled through the sash at each side into the frame, and nails inserted in these holes held the sash in place, and served also as hinge pins for the sash to turn on. The sash could be taken out at any time by removing these nails. As we could not afford to use glass for our windows, we covered the sashes first with cloth, and later, when it occurred to us that in winter time it would be difficult to keep the cold air out, we used oiled paper.



Bunks.



Our next work was directed toward providing sleeping accommodations in the log cabin. A large log was laid on the floor the full length of the cabin, as far out as possible without interfering with the opening of the front door. Stakes were laid across this log, with their opposite ends wedged in between the logs of the wall. A nail or two in each slab held it in place. This formed a sort of shelf 12 feet long, which was divided at the center to form two bunks, each wide enough for two persons. But as there were six of us in the society, we had to provide two more berths. A stout post was set into a hole in the ground, and nailed firmly at the bottom to the lower berth log and at the top to one of the roof beams. This post supported a second berth log, which extended the full length of the building at a height of about 3 feet from the floor, and was wedged at the ends between the logs of the house. Cleats were nailed to the walls under this berth log to make it perfectly secure. Then slabs were nailed across it to form the two bunks.



Stopping up the Chinks.

The log cabin was completed by stopping up all the chinks between the logs of the walls. Strips of wood and bits of bark plastered with mud were driven into all the cracks and crevices until everything was made perfectly tight.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE WINDMILL.

When our log cabin was completed we immediately transferred our camp from the tent to the hut. But at the very outset we were confronted with the problem of getting drinking water. We hadn't thought of that before. It was easy enough to move the filter barrels, but when it came to moving the water wheel we could find no suitable place for it anywhere near the log cabin. The water of Lake Placid was too quiet, while the mill-race and the rapids on the other side of Kite Island ran so swiftly that we were afraid the water wheel would be swept away with its course. The matter was carefully considered at a special meeting of the society. It occurred to Bill that we might build a windmill in place of the water wheel, and use it to pump water from a well which could be dug near the hut.

"We wouldn't have to use a filter, then," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Why, because the sand of the island will strain out all the dirt in the water. You see, the water in the well will have to soak in from the river, and by the time it gets through all the gravel and sand between the river and the well it ought to be filtered pretty clear."



Digging the Well.

That sounded logical, and so we adopted the plan at once. We chose a spot quite near the hut for our well. When we had dug down about 6 feet we struck water, but continued excavating until the water lay 3 feet deep in the well. While making the excavation we shored up the sides with planks, to prevent the loose soil from falling in on us and smothering us, as it so nearly did when we were digging our first cave. By "shoring," I mean we lined the walls with planks, which were driven into the ground with large wooden mallets. The planks were braced apart with sticks at frequent intervals. As the well hole grew deeper we had to rig up a bucket to haul the dirt out. Our bucket was a soap box attached to a rope, which passed through a pulley at the top of the well. The pulley was supported by a tripod made by firmly lashing together the upper ends of three stout poles and spreading their lower ends far enough apart to straddle the mouth of the well, as shown in Fig. 282. After the well had been carried down to a sufficient depth, we began laying the stone wall, which was to form the permanent lining. We knew that the wooden walls would not do, because they would soon decay. Our stone wall, which was built up of flat stones like the chimney of the log house, was not very strong, I fear, and had not the soil around it been pretty firm it would probably have caved in. However, if it served no other purpose, it formed a fairly good finish for the well.



The Windmill Tower.



The mouth of the well was carefully covered with planks while we constructed the windmill above it. For the tower of the windmill we chose four long sticks. They must have measured about 16 feet in length, and were from 4 to 6 inches in diameter. With them we made two frames of the form given in Fig. 283, using slabs to brace them apart. These frames were now set in position, with their lower ends firmly planted in holes in the ground, and the tower was completed by nailing on a number of diagonal braces. A couple of boards were nailed across the upper ends at opposite sides, and holes were drilled through them to provide bearings for the wind wheel shaft.



The Crank Shaft.

The shaft was a piece of heavy iron rod which we procured from the blacksmith at Lumberville. Under Bill's direction the blacksmith hammered a U-shaped bend at the center of the shaft, so as to form a crank, and then he flattened the rod near the ends (see Fig. 284). When the shaft was set in its place these flat spots lay just outside of the bearing boards, and then, to keep the shaft from sliding back and forth in its bearings, we fastened on two clamps over these flattened parts. The clamps were made of pairs of hardwood blocks bolted together in the manner indicated in Fig. 285.



The Wind Wheel.

Our next task was to construct the wind wheel. First we procured three boards, each 3 inches wide and 3-1/2 feet long. A 1/2-inch hole was drilled in the center of each board, and then, with these holes coinciding, the boards were nailed together, with their ends projecting, like spokes, equally distant from each other. Six wedges were now made of the size indicated in Fig. 286. These were made of a 2 x 4-inch scantling, sawed diagonally in two and then planed down to the given dimensions. The wedges were now nailed firmly to the spokes, as shown in Fig. 286. For the blades we used six thin boards, each about 4 feet long. Each blade measured 10 inches in width at the outer end, and tapered down to a width of 3 inches at the inner end, as illustrated in Fig. 288. The blades were now securely nailed to the wedges, and their outer ends were braced together by means of wires stretched from the forward edge of each blade to the rear edge of the next one ahead. The wheel was then fitted onto the shaft and nailed to one of the clamps. In this way it was practically keyed to the shaft.



We did not make any vane for our windmill. It did not need any. The wind nearly always blew either up or down the river, more often up the river, for the prevailing summer winds in that part of the country are southerly. But, aside from that, east and west winds could not very well reach us on account of the hills on both sides of the river. The wheel was set facing the north, because the strongest winds came from that direction, and as an extra brace against these winds we stretched wires from the projecting end of the shaft to the center of each blade.



A Simple Brake.

A brisk northerly wind was blowing when we set the wheel in place, and it began to revolve at once, before we could nail it to the clamp. To stop it we nailed a stick of wood to the tower, so that its end projected in the path of the blades and kept the wheel from turning around. This brake was swung up to the dotted position illustrated when we were ready to have the wheel revolve, but it could be thrown down at any time to stop it.



The Pump.

Our pump was made of a galvanized leader pipe; that is, a pipe used to carry off rain water from the roof of the house. The pipe was only about 8 feet long, and so we had to piece it out with a long wooden box pipe. A block closed the lower end of this box, and the leader pipe fitted snugly into a hole in the block (Fig. 291). A spout was set into the upper end of the box pipe to carry the water to the cask, which was to serve as our water reservoir.



The Pump Valves.

We plugged the bottom of the leader pipe with a block of wood, in the center of which a large hole was drilled. The hole was covered with a piece of leather nailed at one side, so that it could lift up to let water into the pipe. The piston was made of a disk of wood of slightly smaller diameter than the inside of the pipe, and over it was fastened a piece of leather just large enough to fit snugly against the walls of the pipe. This piston was fastened to a wooden rod long enough to reach from well within the pipe to the wind wheel shaft. A strip of brass was bent over the crank, or U-shaped bend in the shaft, and its ends were fastened to the rod.



Action of the Pump.

It was rather a crude pump, but it did all the work we required of it. As the wheel went around the crank shaft would move the piston up and down. Whenever the piston went down, the air in the pipe would press up the edges of the leather disk and squeeze past (see Fig. 295). Then when the piston came up again, the leather disk, being backed by the wooden disk beneath it, was kept flat, so that no air could force its way back into the pipe. This made a partial vacuum in the pipe, and the water from the well rushed up through the valve at the bottom to fill it (see Fig. 296). When next the piston went down the bottom valve closed and more air forced its way past the piston. Then on the next upward stroke more water flowed into the pipe, until, after a number of strokes, all the air was pumped out and the water which took its place began to force its way up past the piston and eventually to flow out of the spout into the cask.

Our old windmill was sold to a farmer near Lumberville when we broke camp that fall. We carted it over and set it up for him. A number of years later I saw it still faithfully at work pumping water for his cattle. The original pump had been worn out and a new one substituted, but otherwise the old windmill remained just as we had first rigged it up.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE GRAVITY RAILROAD.

"About all we lack now," said Dutchy, when the windmill had been completed, "is a railroad."

"Then suppose we build one," was Bill's unexpected rejoinder.

We all thought he was joking, but he wasn't.

"I don't mean a steam railroad," he said, "but a gravity railroad."

"A what?"

"A gravity railroad. Oh, you know what that is—a roller toboggan—the kind they have down at Coney Island." And he went on to explain how we could rig up a simple roller toboggan on our island.

His plan was to build an inclined trestle on the high ground just below the lagoon, and then run wooden tracks along the shore down to the pontoon bridge, and across the mill-race to Kite Island. We started first to dig a road down to the bridge, because the bank was quite high at this point. The task was rather greater than we anticipated, but we kept steadily at it until we had cut a fairly good road through the bank, though the grade was rather steep.

Before proceeding with the trestle and track we thought the best plan would be to build our car, and then we could use it as a gauge to determine how far apart the rails should be set.



The Car.

First we got a 2x4-inch scantling, and cut from it two lengths, each 4 feet 6 inches long. These were laid on edge just 30 inches apart, and then a number of boards were nailed across from one scantling to the other and sawed off flush with their edges. The floor thus formed was now turned over so that the scantlings lay uppermost and the sides of the car were then nailed on with their edges overlapping the ends of the floor boards. The sides, which were about 18 inches high, were each made of two boards firmly battened together. Great care was taken to securely nail both the flooring and the sides to the scantlings, because these scantlings were to carry the wheels of the car. The car body was completed by nailing on the end pieces which overlapped both the flooring and the side walls.



The Flanged Wheels.

Next we sawed out the wheels of our car. From a board of hardwood 3/4 of an inch thick four disks, 12 inches in diameter, were sawed out. Then from a board 1 inch thick four 9-inch disks were sawed out. We cut these disks in the same way as we had made the disks for our surveying rod (see page 78), by making cuts across corners and finally smoothing off the angles with a draw-knife. A half-inch hole was now drilled in the center of each disk. Then on each large disk a smaller one was placed, with the center holes of the two coinciding and the grain of one lying across the grain of the other. In this position they were firmly nailed together, making a wheel like those used on a railway car, with the small disc forming the tread of the wheel and the large disk serving as a flange.



The Car Axles.

For the car axles we bought four 1/2-inch bolts, 6 inches long, with two washers and two nuts for each bolt. In each side of the car, about 8 inches from the ends, we nailed face blocks; that is, blocks of wood for the wheels to bear against. These face blocks were only 1/2 inch thick. Then in these blocks holes were drilled which were carried clear through the scantling. The holes were just large enough for the bolts to fit snugly in them. The bolts were inserted from the inside, so that their threaded ends projected out at each side of the car. A patch of wood was nailed to the scantling over each bolt head to prevent the bolt from slipping back into the car. Then the wheels were mounted on these bolts, which served as axles.



Mounting the Wheels.

First a washer was placed on the axle, then the wheel was applied, with the larger or flange disk against the face block, after which another washer was slipped on. A nut was screwed against this washer just tightly enough to keep the wheel snugly in place, and yet let it turn freely on its axle. Then to keep this nut from shaking loose a second nut was screwed on against it. While one fellow held the first nut from turning, another screwed the second nut against it as tightly as he could. The second nut is technically known as a "jam nut," or "lock nut." The car was completed by laying a couple of boards across from one scantling to the other to serve as seats.



The Railway Track.



The trestle was now begun. First we erected a level platform, which was to be the starting point of the railway. This was made very substantial by planting the corner posts firmly in the ground and then bracing them together with diagonal braces. A couple of planks leaning against the platform at one side provided a convenient means for mounting to the top. From the platform the trestle ran down at an easy incline to the ground. It was made of 2x4-inch scantlings supported at intervals on posts driven into the ground. The opposite posts were firmly braced with boards fastened diagonally across them. The scantlings were to serve as rails, and so we fastened them at the proper distance apart with ties nailed to the under side. But to be sure that the rails were not too far apart or too close together, the car was rolled over the track and the rails were set to keep the tread disks of the wheels on them and the flange disks just clear of their inner edges. The ends of the rails were cut off at an angle, making a slanting joint, as shown in Figs. 301 and 302. They were fastened firmly together by nailing a piece of board on the bottom and also on the outer side.



The Carpenter's Miter Box.

To make sure that the ends were all cut to the same angle, we made a carpenter's "miter box." Two sideboards were nailed to a baseboard, making a trough large enough for the scantling to be set in it. Then we sawed through the sides of the trough at an angle of 45 degrees. When we wanted to cut the end of the scantling at an angle it was placed in the trough, and with the saw set in the saw cuts, as a guide, we were sure that they would all be cut at the same angle.



Laying the Track.



From the bottom of the inclined trestleway we continued the track down the slope to the river; but for the sake of economy, instead of using 2 x 4-inch scantlings for the rails, we bought a number of 2-inch planks at Lumberville, and had them sawed up into strips 2 inches wide. These 2-inch square rails were fastened together with slabs nailed on at frequent intervals. To maintain the proper gauge the car was rolled over each pair of rails, which were nailed first at the ends and center. To anchor the track we drove short posts into the ground so that their upper ends lay flush with the surface. A post was provided under each joint and one under the center of each rail, and then the slab ties were nailed securely to these posts. In imitation of a full-sized railway, we made it a point to "break joints" on our track; that is, to make the end of one rail come in line with the center of the opposite rail, as shown in Fig. 302. Our track was continued across the pontoon bridge and ran around the west shore of Kite Island. The track was straight as far as the shore of Kite Island, whence, by an easy curve, it was carried around to the log cabin.



The First Railway Accident.

Dutchy was the first one to try the railway. He sneaked back to the platform while the rest of us were putting a few last touches on the track. The first we knew the car came tearing down the track at full speed, with Dutchy yelling at the top of his voice for us to get out of his way. Bill was on the bridge when the car came along and he had no time to run for shore, but with great presence of mind he jumped into the water and clung to one of the barrels. But the joke of it all was that Dutchy himself got a wetting too. The track at the middle of the bridge was not quite true to gauge. It was this very spot that Bill was fixing up when Dutchy, came along. The end of a rail was bent in far enough to catch the flange of one of the car wheels, and in a moment Dutchy, car and all, was slung head over heels into the mill-race. Fortunately no serious harm was done. Dutchy landed a little ways down-stream, and Reddy, by quick work, managed to rescue the car just as it was floating off under the suspension bridge. The car was undamaged except that the flange of a wheel was split off.

Of course, Bill was as mad as a hornet at Dutchy, and expressed his feelings in no mild terms. But his anger was somewhat tempered by the fact that Dutchy received as bad a punishment as he had inflicted.



Testing the Track.

We had to cut a new flange disk for the broken wheel, and to prevent the flanges from splitting off again we nailed a batten across the inner face of each wheel extending down to the very edge of the flange disk. This batten was fastened on across the grain. When everything was completed the car was started down the track empty to see if it would keep the rails. It went beautifully as far as the bridge, but was too light to run much beyond. The next time we loaded it up with stones and had the pleasure of watching it sail down hill, across the bridge and vanish out of sight around the shore of Kite Island. That was demonstration enough. We knew it would carry us safely and it did. The next time we tried it four of us piled into the small car, and in a moment we were off on a most thrilling ride, which ended right in front of the log cabin, where the car came to a sudden stop after riding off the end of the rails and plowing through the sand for a short space.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE CANTILEVER BRIDGE.

There is one more piece of work done by our society which yet remains to be described, and that is the cantilever bridge. This we all voted to be the greatest of our achievements on the island. To be sure, it was Uncle Ed's design, but I think we justly deserve credit for the masterful way in which it was erected. In our search for types of bridges before building the king post bridge, we came across a simple cantilever bridge that didn't look very difficult to construct. To be sure, none of us knew a thing about stresses and strains, and ingenious though we were, Bill realized that the task of designing a cantilever bridge was far beyond him. Nevertheless, we were sure we could build one if only we had a good set of plans. A letter was therefore mailed to Uncle Ed, asking him for the required details. The answer came promptly from Western Australia, asking us to send him the exact width of the water we wished to span, the depth of the water, the distance from the top of one bank to the top of the other, and the exact height of the banks above water level. We decided we would build the bridge across the mouth of the lagoon. The distance here between the two banks measured a little over 60 feet. The banks were very precipitous, and rose 13-1/2 feet above the level of the water. All these details, together with soundings of the bottom, all the way across, were sent to Uncle Ed, and on the day after our railway was completed quite a bulky package was received in answer. It contained complete directions for building the bridge of wooden frames, which were so designed that they needed merely to be hooked together to form the bridge, though to make the structure perfectly safe Uncle Ed cautioned us to tie the frames together wherever they met.