Naturally we were very much elated at our success, and straightway made for the barn, where we began operations on the scooter canoe. The sleigh was an old-fashioned affair, with rather broad wooden runners. First we removed the body of the sleigh, and then the runners were cut down to a height of about 15 inches. We spaced them apart about 28 inches, and connected them with four crosspieces at the top. The runners were now placed over our larger canoe, with forward ends about on a line with the mast, and the crosspieces were fastened with screws to the gunwales. As an additional security, a pair of crosspieces were now run under the canoe at each end and fastened with screws to the keel. At the bow the keel was shod with a strip of brass. The rudder was taken off the boat, and an oar lock was fastened to the stern to hold the steering oar. In place of lee boards we nailed a couple of thin boards over each runner, as shown in the drawing. We were in a hurry to finish this, as our vacation was short, so we used on the scooter canoe the sails that we had made for our ice boat. This required a bowsprit, but as we had little time to spare we used the jib-boom of the ice boat, nailing it to the deck beam of the canoe. We decided that the jib-sail could be used without a boom, as we had done with the scow. The mast was braced by stays attached to the ends of the runners and bowsprit. This spread of canvas was far greater than that originally provided for sailing the canoe, but the heavy runners on each side helped to keep the boat on even keel, and then to further balance the sail a board was nailed across the aft end of the boat. This overhung the runners about 18 inches each side, and in a strong wind we could sit out on the windward end of this board, thus preventing the scooter from heeling over too far.

CHAPTER XVII.
AN ARCTIC EXPEDITION.

On the Tuesday morning following Christmas we made the start. Bill in the scooter canoe and Dutchy in the scooter scow sailed up the river, and the rest of us, on snow shoes, took the tow path of the canal, hauling the sledge along. We carried provisions for a week and a good supply of blankets. The island was reached without mishap, except that Dutchy had to be helped several times in dragging the heavy scow around the rapids. Bill reached the island long before we did, and after unloading the canoe came racing back under a stiff breeze for a second load. Then he took his turn at hauling the sledge, while Reddy sailed the reloaded scooter canoe up to the island.

Willow Clump Island in Winter.

We brought no tent with us, as we expected to take up our quarters in the straw hut. When we reached the hut we hardly recognized it. It was almost completely covered with snow and looked like an Eskimo house. The snow had drifted well up over the north side, completely closing the entrance. We had to set to work at once with a shovel and open up a passageway, and then we had to shovel out a large pile of snow that had drifted into the hut from the open doorway.

Kindling a Camp Fire.

In the meantime Jack scoured the island for some dry wood. In this he was not very successful, because everything was covered with snow, and when he tried to kindle a fire in the open space in front of our hut he found the task an exceedingly difficult one. Unfortunately we forgot to bring the oil stove with us, and the prospect of something warm to eat was exceedingly remote. We hadn’t yet learned the trick of building a camp fire in wet weather. After exhausting our stock of paper Fred and I started over to Lumberville for several newspapers and a can of kerosene. We went to old Jim Halliday’s, who had befriended us on one or two occasions the previous summer, and made known to him our troubles.

“What! A can of oil to build yer fire with? Well, ye won’t git it from me. I know a man as got blowed up apourin’ oil on a fire. Why, shucks, boys, you don’t need no oil ner paper nuther on that there island. Its chuck-full of silver birch trees, and there ain’t no better kindlin’ than birch bark.”

Birch bark! Why, yes, why hadn’t we thought of that? We had used it for torches the summer before and knew how nicely it burned. So back we skated to camp, and then, peeling off a large quantity of bark from the birch trees around us, we soon had a rousing big fire in front of the hut.

The Outdoor Fireplace.

But there were more things to be learned about open fires. In our summer outing Jack had done most of his cooking on a kerosene stove, and he soon found that it was a very different matter to cook over an unsheltered fire. The heat was constantly carried hither and thither by the gusts of wind, so that he could scarcely warm up his saucepans. We had to content ourselves with cold victuals for the first meal, but before the next meal time came around we had learned a little more about fire building. Two large logs were placed about 10 inches apart, and the space between them was filled in with pieces of bark and small twigs and sticks. The back of the fireplace was closed with stones. One touch of a match was enough to kindle the fire, and in a moment it blazed up beautifully. The logs at the sides and the stones at the back prevented the wind from scattering the flames in all directions, and a steady draft poured through the open end of the fireplace and up through the heart of the fire. The side logs were so close together that our cooking utensils could be supported directly on them.

A Stone-paved Fireplace.

The following summer we continued our open fireplace experiments. Instead of using logs we drove stakes into the ground, forming a small circular stockade about 2 feet
Fig. 198. A Stone-paved Fireplace. high and 3 feet in diameter. A paving of small stones covered the floor of the fireplace, and a lining of stones was laid against the wall. The stakes were driven in on a slant, as illustrated in Fig. 198, so as to better support the stone lining. A break in the stockade at one side let in the necessary draft. Two of the stakes on opposite sides of the fire were made extra long, and were crotched at their upper ends. They served to support the cross stick from which our kettles were hung. This form of fireplace was more satisfactory for baking than the one in which logs were used for the side walls, because the stone lining retained the heat much longer. To bake biscuit, a pot of beans, or the like, the ashes would be drawn away from the stone paving and the pot placed directly on the hot stones, after which it was covered with hot embers and ashes.

A Cold Night in the Hut.

But to return to our experiences on the island. We found it very cold on the first night in the hut. We were afraid to build a fire inside lest the straw thatchings would catch fire, and so we huddled together in the corner, rolled up tightly in our blankets. But it was cold, nevertheless. We had no door to close the opening into the hut, and instead had piled up branches of cedar and hemlock against the doorway. But a bitterly cold northwest wind was blowing down the river, and we couldn’t keep warm, no matter what we did. Most of the boys were ready to go right home, but we stuck it out until the morning, and then after we had toasted ourselves before a blazing bright fire, and had eaten a hot breakfast, we forgot much of the discomfort of the night and were ready for more “fun.” We thought we would spend the next night in our tree house, and so, right after breakfast, we packed up our blankets and some provisions and started for the Jacob’s Ladder.

Mountain Climbing.

Each fellow was provided with a pair of ice creepers of the same sort as we had used in connection with the rennwolf (see page 170). In addition to this each boy was provided with a home-made alpine stock, consisting of a stout wooden stick in the end of which a large nail was driven and the head filed off. Thus equipped we came to the foot of the cliff, and much to our delight found it one mass of ice from top to bottom. Now was our chance to try some Swiss mountain climbing. Bill took the lead, with an old hatchet in his hand, to hack out any necessary footholds in the ice wall, and the rest of us strung out behind him tied to a long rope, each boy about 10 or 12 feet from the one ahead. Bill cautioned us to keep our distance, holding the rope taut in one hand, so that if a fellow stumbled he could be kept from falling either by the one in front or by the one behind.

“Besides,” he said, “if the rope drags on the ice, it is liable to be cut or worn so that it will break when any strain was put on it.”

Now, one would think from all these precautions that we were launched on a perilous expedition. That was the impression we were trying to make on ourselves, though, as a matter of fact, any one of us could have climbed the cliff unaided and without any ice implements if he had used ordinary care not to slip on the ice-clad ladder rounds or the snow-covered ledges.

The climb was without mishap and we reached our tree house, only to find it so badly racked by storm and weather that it was clearly out of the question to attempt to spend the night there. The wind howled around the house and whistled through dozens of cracks and chinks that had opened in the walls. All that we could do, therefore, was to turn back to the island and make the best of our straw hut again. On the way, however, we stopped at Lumberville for some straw to be used for bedding. The afternoon was spent sailing around on Lake Placid and the large smooth stretch above the island.

A Costly Camp Fire.

After supper Bill and Reddy went into the hut to arrange the straw bedding, while the rest of us gathered wood for a huge bonfire in front of the hut. The wind was blowing right down the river and we expected it to carry the warmth of the fire into the hut. The fire was built some distance in front of the doorway, so as to prevent the hut from catching fire. But we had evidently miscalculated the strength of the wind, for no sooner was the fire fairly started than a shower of flaming brands was blown right into the hut. In a moment the straw blazed up, cutting off all escape for Bill and Reddy. Fortunately the framing was not strong and the frost had loosened up the foundations, so that a few frantic kicks opened an exit in the rear of the hut just in time to save our comrades from cremation. Once it was fairly started we were powerless to put out the blaze until the hut was ruined. The snow that covered the walls checked the fire somewhat, but the thatching burned from the inside, melting the snow and dropping it suddenly into the flaming straw bedding on the floor. As we sat in a gloomy ring about the camp fire, watching the tongues of flame play about the charred ribs of our hut, we had reason to be thankful that the wind had played its pranks before we turned in for the night. What a risk we had run of being all burned to death! It made me shudder to think of it. Well, our hut was burned. What next? That was the question put before the society.

But I caught a twinkle in the old man’s eyes and wasn’t surprised to have him end his lecture by taking us into the kitchen and seating us around an old-fashioned log fire while “Marthy,” his daughter, made us some hot coffee to take the chill out of our bones. We didn’t sleep in the barn that night. The Hallidays had only one spare bed, hardly enough for six boys, and the old man didn’t want to be partial to any two of us, but his daughter solved the difficulty by dragging down two large feather mattresses and laying them on the kitchen floor in front of the hearth.

Before bidding us “good night,” Mr. Halliday put on his sternest expression and bade Marthy clear out all the matches from the room.

“Jest as like as not they’ll set fire to the house,” he growled. “I expect this is my last night on airth.” And then, with a solemn warning not to hang our clothes on the flames, and to “keep them feather beds offen the embers,” he left us to a comfortable night’s rest.

In the morning, after we had disposed of all the hot griddle cakes we could eat, and had sincerely thanked our host and hostess for their hospitality, we wended our way back to the island, silently packed up our goods and started home for Lamington.

“Well, this isn’t going to happen again,” was Bill’s comment. “Next year we’ll have a log cabin on the island.”

CHAPTER XVIII.
TRAMPING OUTFITS.

Of course, we had to make a sleeping bag, too. The innermost bag was made of an old quilt and the next one of a blanket that we were fortunate enough to get hold of. But when it came to the reindeer skin we were balked, until we happened to run across a piece of rubber sheeting at the village store. This was a lucky find, for I doubt if one country store in a hundred carries such stock. The piece was just large enough to cover the blanket bag and allow for an ample flap to cover the head. To be sure, this furnished a shelter for only one person, and there were six in the society. It was clear that the treasury could not afford the expense of six sleeping bags; but as such a device would be useful only under very unusual circumstances we decided that two sleeping bags would be all the society would need. We had been rather curious to explore the country back of the hills on the Pennsylvania side of the river, and with some light provisions and these sleeping bags strapped to the back a couple of boys could make quite an extended tour, unmindful of weather conditions. On real hot nights a fellow could get into the quilt bag and sleep on the blanket and waterproof bag. In cold weather the combination of all three bags provided sufficient warmth. The rubber bag would protect the sleeper from any moisture in the ground, and would also keep him thoroughly dry, even in a pouring rain.

Bill’s “Mummy Case.”

Our second sleeping bag was Bill’s own design, and was, in many respects, an improvement on the first, though it looked ridiculously like an Egyptian mummy case. The inner bags
Fig. 200. Bottom Piece of Sleeping Bag. were just like those of the first sleeping bag, but as there was no more rubber sheeting in town we had to make the outer bag of enameled cloth, such as is used for carriage curtains. Out of this cloth Bill cut a piece of the shape shown in Fig. 200 to serve as bottom, sides and ends of the sleeping bag. The bag was sewed wrong side out; that is, the piece was laid with enameled side up, and then the corners were sewed together after painting the seams with white lead. Then a
Fig. 201. Top Piece of Sleeping Bag. top piece was cut out, of the size indicated in Fig. 201. The edges were hemmed over a piece of rope, which thus formed a corded edge. Now, with the enameled side of the cover piece turned inward, its edges were sewed to the edges of the first piece. The bag was now turned inside out, so that the enameled surface lay on the outside and the seams turned inward.
Fig. 202. Headboards. The corded edge on the cover piece lapped over the sides, forming a watershed.

It was Bill’s idea to rig up the flap in such a manner that it would not lie against the face, so that the sleeper could have plenty of fresh air, even in rainy weather. This required the use of two headboards, of the form shown in Fig. 202. The headboards were connected at the bottom by a thin board, and to this framework the sides of the bag were nailed. To the end
Fig. 204. Sleeping Bag in Use. flap several cleats were nailed, adapted to fit into notches cut in the headboards. The cleat at the end of the flap was laid on edge, as shown, and fitted into deep notches in the headboards just above the edge of the cover piece. This held the flap securely, preventing it from flying open in a heavy wind. At the same time the small space between the flap and the cover piece allowed for an ample supply of fresh air. When using this sleeping bag, if there was any indication of a shower, we took care to have the head pointed to windward so as to prevent entrance of rain through this air space.

The “A” Tent.

In connection with the sleeping bags it may be well to describe here a curious shelter Dutchy and I came across in one of our tramps. It was just about dusk one day when we discovered a temporary camp at which a couple of men were preparing dinner. They informed us that they were naturalists on a two weeks’ outing. At their invitation we joined camp with them. They had a small “A” tent of balloon silk, under which they kept their provisions. The tent had no ridge pole, but was supported instead by a rope stretched between two trees (see Fig. 205).

A Camp Chair.

The camp was also furnished with an easy canvas chair, made by driving a couple of short posts in the ground for front legs and a pair of longer ones for the back. A piece of canvas was hung over these posts, forming both seat and back. The posts were driven into the ground on a slant, as illustrated in Fig. 206, and the canvas was formed with pockets at the corners which were hooked over these
Fig. 207. Pockets in the Canvas Back. posts. This made a very comfortable chair, though, of course, it was fixed to one spot. When the men moved camp they would carry with them only the canvas piece, and at the next stopping place new posts were chopped and used for legs.

But what interested us most was the form of bed they had. This, like the chair, consisted of a piece of canvas arranged to be supported on posts cut from the woods in the neighborhood of the camp. The canvas piece was 3 feet wide and 6 feet long, with a wide hem at each side, forming pockets through which poles were passed, as in a stretcher. The ends of the poles were supported on posts driven into the ground. The poles were also propped up at the center, as shown, the pockets being cut away and bound, so as not to permit any wear on the canvas. To prevent the posts from leaning inward under the weight of the sleeper, they were braced apart by cross sticks.

As a precaution against rain, a tall post was set up at the head and another at the foot of the bed, and a rope was stretched over the posts with the ends fastened to stakes driven into the ground. Over this rope a rubber “poncho” was laid to keep off the rain. A “poncho,” by the way, is a blanket of rubber cloth about 4-1/2 feet wide and 6 feet long,
Fig. 211. Camp Bed in the Rain. in the center of which is a slit through which you can put your head; then the rubber cloth falls over you like a cape, as in
Fig. 212. Umbrella with Fly. Fig. 210, and makes a perfect protection against rain. The ponchos these men had were not quite long enough to cover the whole bed, so they fastened umbrellas to the head posts, as shown in Fig. 212. During a shower in the woods the rain comes straight down in large drops, caused by the water collecting on the leaves. To prevent these large drops from splashing through the umbrellas, they laid pieces of cloth over the umbrellas, which served, like the fly of a tent, to check the fall of rain drops.

I slept in the mummy case that night and Dutchy in the first sleeping bag. It must have been about midnight when I was awakened by a most unearthly yell. It sent the cold chills running up and down my back. A second scream brought me into action, and I struggled to throw back the head flap, which had become caught. It seemed an age before I could open it and wriggle out of the bag. Dutchy was sitting up in bed with a look of horror on his face, and his whole body was in a tremor of fear. One of the men dashed a glass of water in his face, which brought him back to his senses. It was only a nightmare, we found. Dutchy dreamed he had been injured in a railway accident and had been taken for dead to the morgue. He tried to let them know that he was alive, but couldn’t utter a sound, until finally he burst out with the yells that roused the camp. Then, as he awoke with the horror of the dream still on him, his eyes fell on the two stretcher beds that looked like biers and the black coffin-like sleeping bag. It was not much wonder that Dutchy was frightened. The camp did certainly have a most ghastly appearance in the vague moonlight that filtered through the trees, and it must have been still more gruesome to see the coffin and biers suddenly burst open and the corpses come running toward him. To prevent any further nightmare we set Dutchy’s sleeping bag under the “A” tent, where he would be saved the horror of again waking up in a morgue.

Pack Harness.

In the morning our friends broke camp and started westward. Dutchy and I watched them packing up their goods into a couple of very compact bundles, which they strapped to their backs with a peculiar pack harness. I took careful note
Fig. 213. Pack Harness. of the way the harness was put together, and when we returned to the island we made two sets for use on our tramping expeditions. A canvas yoke was first cut out to the form shown in Fig. 213. We used two thicknesses of the heaviest brown canvas we could find, binding the two pieces together with tape. The yoke was padded with cotton at the shoulders and a strap was fastened to each shoulder piece. These were arranged to be buckled to a pair of straps fastened to the back of the yoke and passing under the arms. Riveted to these straps were a pair of straps used for fastening on the pack. The yoke straps were attached with the rough side against the yoke, while the pack straps were riveted on with the rough side uppermost, as indicated in the drawing.

Riveting.

The method of riveting together the leather straps may need a word of explanation. A copper rivet was passed through a hole in the two straps; then the washer was slipped over the projecting end of the rivet. This washer had to be jammed down tight against the leather, and to do this we drilled a hole of the diameter of the rivet in a block of wood, and putting this block over the washer, with the end of the rivet projecting into the hole, we hammered the block until the washer was forced down tight against the leather. Then taking a light tack hammer we battered down the end of the rivet onto the washer. Care was taken to do this hammering very lightly, otherwise the end would have been bent over instead of being flattened.

CHAPTER XIX.
THE LAND YACHT.

I followed him to the shed at the back of the school and found that he had already procured a couple of scantlings for the frame of the boat. The sticks were 2 inches thick and 4 inches wide. The backbone was cut to a length of 10 feet, and a 5-foot link was sawed off for the crosspiece. The two pieces were securely nailed together about 3 feet from the forward end of the backbone. The crosspiece was set on edge, but a notch was cut in it about 1 inch deep to receive the backbone. We might have braced the frame with wooden braces, as in the ice boat, but we thought that this time we would vary the design by using wire bracing instead, thus making the frame much lighter. I asked Bill how he proposed to tighten the wire. Turnbuckles were the thing, but I knew that they were rather expensive.

“Just you leave that to me,” said Bill. “I’ve a scheme that I think will work out all right.”

A Simple Turnbuckle.

At the hardware store of the town we bought a pound of No. 16 iron wire, eight large screw eyes and six eye bolts, with nuts and washers. Both the screw eyes and eye bolts had welded eyes and the shanks of the eye bolts were 6 inches long. A pair of screw eyes were now threaded into the backbone at each side about 18 inches from the end, and at each end of the crosspieces an eye bolt was fastened. I began to see Bill’s plan. He was going to draw the wire taut by tightening up the nuts on the eye bolts. To get the best effect the hole for the eye bolt had to be drilled in on a slant, so that the bolt would pull directly in the line of the wire. To get just the right angle we ran a
Fig. 217. Stretching the Guy Lines. cord from the screw eye on one side to the point where the bolt was to be inserted, and traced its direction on the crosspiece. The hole for the eye bolt was now drilled parallel with the mark we had traced. The same was done at the other end of the crosspiece. A pair of screw eyes were now screwed into the backbone at the fore end and a pair of eye bolts were set at a corresponding angle in the ends of the crosspiece. The crosspiece was notched at each side so that the nuts and washers on the eye bolts would have a square seating. Then we stretched on the wire guy lines, drawing them as tight as possible, with the eye bolts held in place by a turn or two of the nuts, after which we screwed up the nuts as far as we could, thus drawing up the wire until it was very taut. This done the second nut was threaded onto each bolt against the first so as to lock it in place and prevent it from jarring loose.

Stepping the Mast.

We were now ready to mount the frame on the bicycle wheels. We used only the front wheels of the bicycles with the forks in which they were journaled. The shanks at the top of the forks were firmly driven into holes in the crosspiece near the ends. For the steering wheel Bill took the front fork and wheel of his new bicycle, letting the shank into a hole at the stern end of the backbone.

The Tiller.

For a tiller we used a piece of an old rake handle. A small hole was first drilled into the handle and the end of the stick was then split through the hole, permitting the projecting shank of the fork to be driven tightly into the hole.
Fig. 221. The Seat. The split wood was now tightly closed onto the shank by means of a bolt (see Fig. 220). In the rubbish heap we found an old chair. The legs were sawed off and the seat was then firmly nailed to the backbone. The back of the chair was cut down so that it just cleared the tiller.

Everything was now completed but the sail. This was a triangular or “leg-of-mutton” affair, of the dimensions given in Fig. 222. It was made of light canvas, 30 inches wide, of which we bought 14 yards. Out of this we took one strip 18 feet long, one 13 feet, one 8 feet, and one 3 feet long. We had no sewing machine, and therefore had to sew the strips together by hand. The selvedge edges of the strips were lapped over each other about an inch and then they were sewed together sailor fashion, that is, each edge was hemmed down, as shown in Fig. 223. The strips were sewed together so that at the foot each projected at least 21 inches below the next shorter one. This done, the sail was cut to the dimensions given, allowing 1-1/2 inches all around for the hem. The hem was turned over a light rope, forming a strong corded edge. At the clew, tack and head loops were formed in the rope which projected from the canvas, and at intervals along the foot the canvas was cut away, exposing the rope so that the sail could be laced to the boom, as illustrated.
Fig. 223. The Sailor’s Stitch. The boom was a pole 11 feet long attached to the mast by means of a screw hook threaded into the end of the boom and hooked into a screw eye on the mast, after which the screw hook was
Fig. 224. Laying Out the Sail. hammered so it would close over the screw eye to keep it from slipping off. The sail was raised by a halyard passing over a block at the top of the mast. The sheet was fastened near the end of the boom, passed through a block on the backbone, back of the tiller, and through another block on the boom, and was led to a cleat within easy reach of the chair seat.

Our land yacht proved to be quite a successful craft in the flat country around the school. Of course, we could not sail everywhere; a country road is too narrow for any tacking when it comes to sailing against the wind. We hadn’t thought of that when we made our trial trip. A strong east wind was blowing and so we ventured forth on a road that led due west from our school. Off we sped before the wind for two miles, until we came to a sharp turn in the road. Then we began to think of turning homeward. But this was a very different proposition. The wind was dead against us and to try to tack from side to side of the road was useless, because we would hardly get under way on one tack before we had to swing around on the other tack, losing all our momentum. It ended up by our lowering sail and ignominiously trundling the yacht back to school. After that we carefully selected our course, and never sailed away from home before the wind unless we knew of a roundabout way that would lead us back to port on a couple of reaches (long tacks).

CHAPTER XX.
EASTER VACATION.

Bill lighted a candle which projected from a chink in the wall. By its light I saw that there was a pool in the center of the cave fed from a spring at one point. From the pool the water trickled off into a tiny stream to the mouth of the cave, where it was lost in a crack in the rocks. The water was ice cold and clear as crystal. Around the pool were several chairs and a table made by Bill and his two friends. That was evidently where Bill had gotten his idea of a subterranean club.

The Barrel Stave Hammock.

Hanging between a couple of projecting rocks was a hammock made of barrel staves. The hammock was a very simple affair, made by drilling a 1-inch hole in each end of each barrel stave. The staves were then connected by two ropes on each side, woven alternately in and out through these holes, that is, one rope would be passed down through
Fig. 228. Tying the Staves Together. one stave, up through the next, down through the third, etc., and through the same holes another rope would be threaded in and out but in the opposite direction. The end staves of the hammock were provided with double holes, as shown in Fig. 228, so as to make them lie flat, then the ropes were threaded through them.

Aside from the hammock and the rustic furniture there was a fine armchair, made from a barrel that had been sawed off, as in Fig. 229, to form the arms and back. The barrel was raised from the ground by setting it on a couple of boards arranged in the form of a V. Then a caster was fastened to the point of the V and another at each end, making a three-legged chair of it. The chair was upholstered with ticking stuffed with straw. First a piece of ticking large enough for the back was laid on the ground and covered over with an even layer of straw.
Fig. 230. Casters on the Chair. Over the straw a second piece of ticking was laid, making what Bill called a “straw sandwich.” This was nailed to the chair back along the edge and at the bottom, drawing the cloth as taut as possible. To make a better finish for the chair, the ticking was covered with dark red denim. Then strips of braid were laid on the chair back, crossing each other like a lattice. At
Fig. 231. Tacking on the Straw Sandwiches. the crossing points of the braid brass-headed tacks were nailed right through the sandwich into the wood, producing the padded upholstered effect. Next a long, thin sandwich was made to run along the edge of the back, and another one to run around the chair just below the seat, also a couple of small sandwiches to cover the legs and the brackets leading to them. These were all covered with denim before being tacked to the chair and then they were bound with tape at intervals to produce
Fig. 232. The Barrel Armchair. the padded effect. The rest of the woodwork was covered with denim, and a neat ruffle made by Aunt Dorothy hung about the bottom of the chair. A thick, round sandwich was now made to cover the seat board. This was also given a padded effect by binding it with tape. The seat board was not nailed to the chair, but rested on four cleats nailed to the barrel on the inside. When the seat was lifted out it uncovered a shallow chest in which various things could be stored.

The Summer Toboggan.