“On drive,” said Bob, diplomatically ignoring the last question.

Tommy sat down on the edge of the bed and laughed until he was weak.  Bob stared at him.

“Is there anything funny?” he inquired at last.

“Did you say on drive?” inquired Tommy feebly.

“Certainly.”

“With that?” Tommy pointed a wavering finger at the pile of duffle.

“What’s the matter with it?” inquired Bob, a trifle uncertainly.

“Oh, it’s all right.  Only wait till Roaring Dick sees it.  I’d like to see his face.”

“Look here, Tommy,” said Bob with decision, “this isn’t fair.  I’ve never been on drive before, and you know it.  Now tell me what’s wrong or I’ll wring your fool neck.”

“You can’t take all that stuff,” Tommy explained, wiping his eyes.  “Why, if everybody had all that mess, how do you suppose it would be carried?”

“I’ve only got the barest necessities,” objected Bob.

“Spread out your pile,” Tommy commanded.  “There.  Take those.  Now forget the rest.”

Bob surveyed the single change of underwear and the extra socks with comical dismay.  Next morning when he joined Welton he discovered that individual carrying a tooth brush in his vest pocket and a pair of woolen socks stuffed in his coat.  These and a sweater were his only baggage.  Bob’s “turkey,” modest as it was, seemed to represent effete luxury in comparison.

“How long will this take?” he asked.

“The drive?  About three weeks,” Welton told him.  “You’d better stay and see it.  It isn’t much of a drive compared with the old days; but in a very few years there won’t be any drives at all.”

They boarded a train which at the end of twenty minutes came to a stop.  Bob and Welton descended.  The train moved on, leaving them standing by the track.

The remains of the forest, overgrown with scrub oak and popple thickets pushed down to the right of way.  A road, deep with mud and water, beginning at this point, plunged into the wilderness.  That was all.

Welton thrust his hands in his pockets and splashed cheerfully into the ankle-deep mud.  Bob shouldered his little bag and followed.  Somehow he had vaguely expected some sort of conveyance.

“How far is it?” he asked.

“Oh, ten or twelve miles,” said Welton.

Bob experienced a glow of gratitude to the blithe Tommy Gould.  What would he have done with that baggage out here in this lonesome wilderness of unbroken barrens and mud?

The day was beautiful, but the sun breaking through the skin of last night’s freezing, softened the ground until the going was literally ankle-deep in slush.  Welton, despite his weight, tramped along cheerfully in the apparently careless indifference of the skilled woods walker.  Bob followed, but he used more energy.  He was infinitely the older man’s superior in muscle and endurance, yet he realized, with respect and admiration, that in a long or difficult day’s tramp through the woods Welton would probably hold him, step for step.