Brian said effusively. âSo, with you doing half the trail work, and the twins doing the other half, that still leaves the other, other half for the rest of us.â
âUh, yeah,â Clayton mumbled. âThat must be big-city math.â
By noon, the sun was beating down as Dillon and Wayne climbed to the observation platform to search for possible problems and to plan their approach to the far meadow. Dillon announced a rough guess that the distance was about a mile and a half, but cautioned that it could easily be two miles after going up and down hills and around obstacles in their path.
Inside the lower tree house, Clayton was retelling Brian and Ron the story of his first trip to the far meadow. âI hadn't even thought about going back there until now,â he concluded as he heard the animated voices of Phil and Paul arguing about going back to get an extra gallon of water.
Once everyone was on the ground, they surveyed the pile of supplies and equipment. Despite what seemed to be an enormous quantity of food, the twins asked, âIs that going to be enough?â and then jointly complained, âWe're gonna starve.â
âYou should bring extra food with you when you go back to get the water,â Phil advised his brother.
âI'm not going back. You are.â
âDon't worry,â Brian assured them. âWe're going to throw food at you every time you argue too much.â
âWe don't argue too much,â Paul said in their defense.
âYou do,â Phil said.
âDo not.â
âDo too.â
âDo not.â
âSave it!â Dillon cut them off. âLet's see what we've got to cut the trail. We're going to have to go around anything we can't cut or smash with pruners or axes,â he said.
They also packed bandages and ointment, and all prudently wore long pants and long-sleeved shirts.
âLeave the supplies under the tree house in the shade,â Dillon commanded. âWe have to build a bridge, and then come back here to rest.â
The seven boys followed him around the bushes at the clearing's edge.
âLet's leave these bushes alone so they'll hide where our trail begins,â Dillon suggested. âWe need to cut a trail fifty yards long and four feet wide to reach the first creek that we'll have to bridge. There's a six-foot drop to a five-foot-wide creek. And there's three feet of muddy bank on either side.â
Dillon led the way, using large pruners to cut through saplings growing on the trail. Wayne and Brian followed, pruning back the branches that hung over the designated trail.
With only two working flashlights, they knew there would be more darkness than light as they strung out along the trail on the trek home. The others followed, cleaning the trail by removing dead, fallen branches and ripping out small plants as they slowly made progress. In case snakes were lying in wait, leaves were kicked off the trail, right down to the bare dirt. Their assembly-line formation brought them to the creek ravine in just ten minutes, but they were sweating and breathing hard as they put down their tools.
âAt this rate, we'll be there in two hours,â Ron said.
âWe won't continue at this rate,â Dillon warned, as he and the other boys looked up and down the creek. It was nestled in a small ravine six feet below the trail. The banks were sprinkled with boulders and logs sticking out of the mud.
Karl's eyes lit up. âThis will be so easy! All we need are two eighteen-foot logs to span across the banks about three feet apart. They should be a foot thick to support our weight. Then we just place five-foot logs across them. Then we cover that with small branches, leaves, and dirt so the logs won't move, and we'll have ourselves a bridge!â
âThat sounds like a ten-minute project,â Ron said with renewed hope.
Everyone spread out to find logs with the eagerness that always accompanied the beginning