"I suppose you're right. I don't quite like the idea of his being
chore-boy; but if he's really in earnest, there's no better way of
proving him."

Now Frank knew well enough how humble was the position of "chore-boy" in
a lumber camp. It meant that he would be the boy-of-all-work; that he
would have to be up long before dawn, and be one of the last in the camp
to get into his bunk; that he would have to help the cook, take messages
for the foreman, be obliging to the men, and altogether do his best to be
generally useful. Yet he did not shrink from the prospect. The idea of
release from the uncongenial routine of shopkeeping filled him with
happiness, and his mother was almost reconciled to letting him go from
her, so marked was the change in his spirits.




CHAPTER III.

OFF TO THE WOODS.


September, the finest of all the months in the Canadian calendar, was at
hand, as the sumac and the maple took evident delight in telling by their
lovely tints of red and gold, and the hot, enervating breath of summer
had yielded to the inspiring coolness of early autumn. The village of
Calumet fairly bubbled over with business and bustle. Preparations for
the winter's work were being made on all sides. During the course of the
next two weeks or so a large number of men would be leaving their homes
for the lumber camps, and the chief subject of conversation in all