How good it
was to sniff the fresh air, and to be free, and then to think of that hour
put into solid work over the book-list! Why, he glowed all over with
delight at the very thought.
"Whoopity-la!" Down the bank of Spy Pond into one of the curves most
frequented by the boys of his set, he ran. "My! but I'm glad to get here,
though! Hey, there?"
There was no response as Joel dashed into what the boys called their camp,
a rough enclosure the wealthy men who owned the pond on the outskirts of
the town had allowed to be built. As some of the boys were their own sons,
every indulgence in the way of using the pond had been granted, and Mr.
Horatio King being the largest owner and the most indulgent, Joel's set, to
a boy, decided to call it the "King Camp." It was in a knot of pines, and
in the summer was a most attractive place, overrun with vines and creepers
and gay with the colored boat-cushions that were always thrown about.
"Hey there!" shouted Joel again, running about within and without the
little wooden structure. "Are you all deaf? Hey--whoopity-la!" but nobody
answered, save a little bird from the tip of the tallest tree.
Joel stood transfixed with amazement; then he dashed off suddenly down a
descent to the little cove. "It must be that they are out on the pond," he
said to himself, in vexation, and he craned his neck and peered up and down
the shining water as well as he was able for the many curves.
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