5 Beaver Scouts Camp

Five Beaver Scouts camp. THE BUS BOUNCED ALONG a bumpy country road surrounded by tall trees. "Maybe that kid was right," Harris said to Zeke. "I think we really are in the middle of nowhere." Zeke looked puzzled.

"How can anyone be nowhere?" he asked. "We are always, actually somewhere, wherever that may be." Harris laughed. "That's true, but it's just an expression for a really far-away place." The bus turned onto an even narrower, bumpier dirt road.

"I take it back," said Harris. "I think this is officially the middle of nowhere." The bus rolled through a large entry gate. Above the gate swung an old wooden sign with the image of a beaver carved into it. The trees opened up into a clearing, and they passed a lake with a waterfall falling into it.

Harris got very excited. "I love being in the woods," he said. Zeke looked puzzled again. "We have woods on Tragas, but nothing like this," he explained. "The trees are striped, the lakes are yellow, and the waterfalls flow up, not down." The bus rolled to a stop in front of a flagpole in the center of a circle of cabins. Patrick stood up and spoke.

"Okay, listen up. They'll be four scouts to a cabin. Listen for your name and cabin assignment." Patrick then read the names of all the campers and their cabin numbers. "Cabin five—Harris, Zeke, Roger, and Paul," Patrick announced. "That's us," said Harris, grabbing his backpack and heading off the bus.

Harris and Zeke walked into the spare wooden cabin. On either side were a pair of bunk beds. A few seconds later, two more boys came in. "I'm Roger," said a tall, thin boy with red hair. "And this is my friend, Paul."