Two boys were standing on a little wharf looking out over the ice covered surface of Moosehead Lake in northern Maine. They were fine specimens of American boyhood. Bob Golden, nineteen years old, lacked but a trifle of standing six feet and was possessed of a body perfectly proportioned to its height. His brother Jack, a year younger, was not quite so tall but his body was as perfectly developed. Except when at school they had for years lived in the great out-of-doors, in the Maine woods and on the Maine lakes, and the free and open life coupled with the invigorating air of the Pine Tree State had given them “mens sana in corpore sano.” They had arrived at the lumber camp belonging to thei…
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