After the dinner Mr. Bernard said, "There are two dozen hatchets, and I want two dozen boys to use them."

"Oh yes, the fir-boughs to be chopped!" said a dozen voices.

"I'll chop!"

"I'm the boy for a hatchet!"

In a minute the two dozen hatchets were seized, and as soon as the boys received their directions about the bushes they were allowed to cut, they started off for the pasture, followed by a crowd to drag the boughs back to camp, where others of the party, who had done the same work before, were to lay them down for beds. The pasture where the boys had gone for the fragrant fir-boughs extended across the end of the island and stretched back a half-mile to the woods,--a dense growth of hemlocks, junipers, firs, oaks, beeches, wild cherries, thorn trees, and hazel bushes. Along the course of a stream running from a spring grew rows of alders, over which ran the clematis; and along the edge of the water-course grew clumps of ferns and patches of velvety moss.

These woods extended for a mile, thinning at the other end of the island into a bush-covered pasture that, a little later in the season, would furnish all the blueberries and whortleberries the boys would want, and, later still, would be a garden of golden-rods and wild asters. All around the shore of the island, except at the southern end, was a border of rough boulders and cliffs, upon the highest of which was perched the lighthouse, with its revolving lantern.

While the boys were at work in the pasture, Jonas and Freitag were putting up their long tables of matched boards and covering the whole with oilcloth, "to look more civilized-like than bare boards," Jonas said.

Then the great baskets of tinware were unpacked, and the table set for the next meal; for Jonas had camped out before with Mr. Bernard's school, and he knew that they liked to see signs of the next meal as soon as one was disposed of. Moreover, he had discovered that they were less likely to be around sampling the crackers if they saw the table set. He may have been deceived in this, but Jonas was a pretty keen observer, especially in the line of his profession.

Seeing some of the boys idle, Jonas called, "Here, you fellows, catch me some fish for supper. There's plenty of chances along the shore yonder. I saw 'em when we came past.--You go along too, Freitag, and help 'em."

The boys were all eager for the sport.

"Here's bait, and a big pile of fishing-rods all rigged. Take that there big basket for your fish," continued Jonas, as if he were giving orders to a group of fishermen.

The boys, however, followed his directions good-naturedly, each seizing a rod, but leaving "Friday," as they called the man, to bring on the bait and fish-basket.

"Remember your promise, boys, not to go into dangerous places," called Mr. Bernard.

"Yes, sir, we will be careful," answered the boys. They were soon perched on the rocks, dropping their hooks into the water and pulling them out, exclaiming, "I've got a bite!"

"So have I."

"My! ain't they plenty!"

"There's one! Hold on, my beauty! Let go my hook!"

It was lively work, as they said, and presently they had enough to do to bait hooks and take off fish without much talking. Jonas gave a grunt of satisfaction as Freitag came dragging the heavy basket and exclaiming, "Py, but dat was a pig pizness!"

"Now, I can get a supper as is a supper!" exclaimed the cook.--"Freit, you just get them fish ready, and I'll cut up the pork. It ain't nigh supper-time, of course; dinner isn't much more than over, so you boys go off somewhere. Why don't you go see the lighthouse?"

Now Jonas was very cunning in making this suggestion, for he knew the lighthouse was at the other end of the island, a mile and a half away, and if the crowd would only start on that pilgrimage, he could have peace and quiet, and get supper at his leisure. His suggestion seemed good to the boys, and they cried, "Oh yes, the lighthouse!"

"Hurrah for the lighthouse!"

"Mr. Bernard, may we go to the lighthouse?"

Mr. Bernard was in his tent; but hearing his name called, he came outside.

"We want to go to the lighthouse. Can we go?"

"Yes, if Mr. Andrews is ready to go now; he has an errand there to see about a supply of milk. Now, boys, I have not found out the dangerous places on the island, and until we have explored a little ourselves, I want you to use extra precautions. Remember, no bathing except on the beach where we landed; that slopes very evenly, and I think there is no under-current."

"We will be careful, sir."

"We will remember," said the boys.

"Come on; who wants to go to the lighthouse?"

"Ho, for the lighthouse!"

The choppers and bough-layers were at leisure again, and many of them joined the party.

Others said, "Oh, I am too tired to go so far!"

"Wait till to-morrow!"

But the first speakers were already hurrying across the pasture with Mr. Andrews, stopping here and there to pick strawberries or raspberries, and to look for some blueberries that had ripened before their fellows.

The walk was longer than they expected, and the way through the tangled underbrush of the woods was no easy one; but they at length came out into the pasture-land at the northern end of the island, and from there the path was smoother.

The light-keeper gave them a gruff but hearty welcome, and his wife invited as many to come into her nest of a house as the little room would hold.

The two boys belonging to the family were shy but radiant at the prospect of something to break the monotony of their island life.

"I suppose you want to go up and see the lantern, boys," said Jacob Kramer, the light-keeper.--"Here you, John and Jerry, go up with 'em, and tell 'em all about how it works."

John made no reply save to run up the steps leading to the lighthouse, and Jerry, with the crowd of other boys, followed, or as many as could enter at once.

After the lantern had been examined, John led the way down the side of the cliff where they could see the surf-bell rung by the waves.

"That sounds like somebody's funeral!" exclaimed Joe Chester, shrugging his shoulders.

"Doesn't it keep you awake at night?" asked Ned Gould.

John shook his head.

"Nothin' keeps me awake, only the storms when the big waves strike 'way up against the house and spatter the top windows."

"Do you have such storms as that, really?" asked Dave.

John nodded, and added with frankness,--

"When them come Jerry and I get scared, and crawl down to father's room."

"Don't you get lonesome here?" asked Joe, glancing around at the rocks and water forming the landscape.

"Not very. We don't get lonesome at all in the summer."

"What do you do for fun?"

"Oh, we build towers on the cliff. We've got a big one now. Come over and see it;" and both boys scampered off over the rough rocks with their bare feet, leaving the others to pick their way more carefully.

The tower was as high as Jerry's head, and large enough for four boys to stand upon comfortably. In the centre was a fir-tree from which the boys had trimmed every branch, until it was like a flag-staff.

"Some time we are going to have a flag of our own to fly atop there," said Jerry with pride.

"I've got a good-sized flag over in camp that you may have; it will do till you can get a bigger," said Walter Martin.

"What else do you do besides build stone things?" asked Dave curiously.

"Oh, lots of things."

"You fish off the rocks, I suppose."

"Yes, plenty of fish round here. We go off in the boat with father, too, to tend the lobster-pots."

"Lobster-pots! what are they?" asked Joe.

"What you catch lobsters in. Didn't you ever see a lobster-pot? There's some there on the grass."

"What! these cages? How do you catch them with these?"

The boys gathered around the "cages" and examined them.

"See, this hole grows small at the back of it, and the lobster is so anxious to get the bait inside that he squeezes through; but after he is in he doesn't know how to double his claws back and get out, so he just don't; he stays."

"And you catch him?"

"He catches himself," laughed John.

"All we do is to set the pot,--that is, we bait it,--and then we anchor it off somewhere, and after a while we go back for it and get the lobsters."

"How do you get them out?"

"See these little doors up above? We open them, and reach in there."

"Don't they bite?" asked Dan.

"If you don't know where to catch 'em they nip, I tell you."

"Of course you swim like fish, both of you," said Joe, who was quite a famous swimmer himself.

"Can't swim."

"Can't swim? What fellows you are! Why don't you learn? What if you should tumble overboard? what would you do then?"

"Go to the bottom," answered John with a broad smile, as if that were a funny thing to do.

The boys exclaimed over this lack of knowledge, and Joe finally said, "See here, you two fellows; get your father to let you come over to our camp every day, and before our camp-life is over we will teach you so you can swim like fish."

This was a delightful proposal to the boys, not only because they wanted to swim, but because it would take them among other boys.

As soon as the party returned to the lighthouse, John and Jerry whispered the invitation to their father, and asked if they might accept.

He consented willingly.

"May we learn to swim?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. I want ye to learn. I suppose it's time you did; and there ain't no chance at this end o' the island."

"There is a good beach where we are camping, and we shall fasten a rope across to show the boys how far they can go safely."

During the boys' absence Mr. Andrews had been negotiating with the light-keeper for all the milk he could spare, and also for a supply of lobsters; and it was now arranged that John and Jerry were to bring milk every morning to camp, and remain as long as they liked during the day.

"Come, boys; it will be nearly dark before we get back!" said Mr. Andrews, bidding the keeper's family good-bye.

"And we shall lose our supper.--Good-bye, John and Jerry. Come over early." As if there were any need to tell the eager boys that.

They kept near the shore on the way back; and though it was a rocky road to travel, they saved a half-mile thereby, and arrived with very keen appetites just as their comrades had finished supper.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a whale, Joe," exclaimed Dave.

"A whale! why, I could eat a brick house," was the quick response.

"Jonas, did you save us anything?" asked a chorus of voices.

Jonas waved a frying-pan for answer, and presently set before them fried fish, crisp and brown, bread hot from the oven, and warm gingerbread, all of which won the unbounded approbation of the famished boys.

After supper the various events of the day were recounted, and all united in declaring that it had been the jolliest twelve hours they had ever known--a remark that Mr. Bernard had heard every summer on the first day in camp.

"Now, boys," said Mr. Bernard, "you are tired and will want to retire early. Come into my tent, and we will have prayers together."

This tent was divided unequally into two parts; the larger devoted to general assemblages--for morning and evening devotions, and for a resort in wet weather; for sleeping-tents were crowded with beds and baggage.

Besides the large apartment in Mr. Bernard's tent, there was one smaller--a tiny affair, where he slept and wrote or read.

The boys gathered now in the large tent, and sat down on the ground while Mr. Bernard read the Bible to them and explained the portion selected in a brief and interesting way that held the attention of the listeners. After the reading he offered a prayer, asking a blessing upon them all, and praying that none but good influences might prevail with any of them.

Then the "good-nights" were exchanged, many of the boys crowding around the teacher to thank him for the pleasure they were having; and as they scattered to their tents, many boyish words of hearty admiration were spoken of the teacher who had planned this vacation treat for them.

"I tell you, Dave, there ain't many teachers like him!" exclaimed Joe Chester, as he and his friend crept under their blankets on their mattress of fir-boughs.

"No, sir, not many."

The boys were too tired to talk much, and they were soon lulled to sleep by the dash of the ocean against the beach, and the rattle of the pebbles as they followed the receding water only to be tossed up by the next incoming wave.