Mr. Spensor paced back and forth in front of the campers who were lined up, at attention, in three lines. He clutched his notebook tightly against his chest and tapped it with his pencil as he paced. The sun peeked over the hill to the east casting shadows from the line of children that looked like long spider legs, skinny bodies and pointed heads. Brad lifted one of his legs and watched his long dark line wiggle across the rocks on the ground.

"Okay men," Mr. Spensor bellowed. The girls shuffled their feet and glanced at each other. "Camping One-Ooh-One requires a three mile hike and overnight camp in the lodge on Baldy Ridge. The Sche-du-el is as follows. Today, Cabins One, Two, Three and Four. Tuesday, Cabins Five, Six, Seven and Eight. Wednesday, Cabins Nine, Ten, Eleven and Twelve. There will be no de-ve-A-tions from the sche-du-el."

Brad smiled over at Chelsie. He was in Cabin One and she was in Two. She smiled back.

"Cabins One and Two will please report to their councilors to be issued the re-gu-LA-tion backpacks. Each camper will be required to carry an eight pound load."

Packing was easy. Each pack already had a sack lunch, a canteen, compass, map, two bandages, a stick of gum and three matches. Brad had only to add a change of clothes and a jacket. Sleeping bags were already up at the Baldy Ridge cabin.

An hour and a half later the campers were lined in front of Mr. Spensor for a last lecture. They were to have two councilors, Alice and Tom. Petes was standing next to Brad on one side, Little Willie was on his other side, and next to Willie was Maynard Griggs, chewing on a long piece of grass, trying to look tough.

"This is the highest moment for Wugga Mugga campers," began Mr. Spensor. Maynard shifted his weight, as if he wasn’t paying attention, and stomped on Willie's. Willie let out a squeak. Mr. Spensor glared at Brad.

"Silence in the lines!" the head counselor rasped. "As I said, this is the highest moment for Wugga Mugga campers. Whoever completes this section of activities with no demerits receives his or her Wugga Mugga shirts." Tom and Alice stood up to display their shirts.

Maynard whispered, "Big deal." He rolled his eyes.

"The utmost co-OP-eration is required for a successful camp ex-PER-ience." rasped Mr. Spensor. “About face!” He turned, stiff legged, to the right. "Ready? March!"

The kids, all with backpacks strapped to their backs, turned quickly. Two turned the wrong way and got bumped. Maynard was in front of Brad and Willie. His backpack was slung over one shoulder. He swung it like he was trying to hit Little Willie.

The lines moved forward; one with girl campers and one with boy campers. Brad took a deep breath. His lungs didn't seem to take in a full measure of air.

They marched along the path past Cabin One, through the baseball diamond and up the trail to the Maple tree. Brad shuffled past the small crater in the dust, under the tree, where a small confident boy had taken his last plunge. As the line trailed slowly away from the tree he tried not to look at the place where he had learned he couldn't tumble. He felt a hollowness inside; something was lost.

The trail was flat at first; it went around the lake and then angled sharply up a small gully. Soon they broke out of the trees and began switchbacking up Baldy Ridge. The going was rough, rocky and steep. The two lines had straggled out into one long one. A couple times Brad helped Chelsie up a rugged step in the trail. She smiled gratefully. He felt tired and kept trying to shift his pack on his sore shoulders.

Brad paused and looked down the trail toward the valley below. The line of hikers was like a slowly moving snake winding up the trail. Petes was tagging along at the far end of the line of campers, almost out of sight; way down; way, way down. Suddenly Brad was dizzy, he grabbed a bush to keep from falling. Fear churned in his stomach, he squeezed his eyes shut.

After a moment he peeked his eyes opened. Chelsie was looking at him in concern. "What's the matter?" she asked. "You haven't looked good all day."

"Nothing," lied Brad. "We better go, we're holding up the line."

At the top of the switchbacks the hikers stopped for a rest and lunch. Little Willie held up his hand until he got Tom's attention. "Sir?" he asked. Brad noticed Willie had a streak of water down his back, like someone had dumped a canteen on his head. "I need some more water."

Brad scowled over at Maynard who was lounging against a rock, chewing on a grass stem.

"What happened to your water, Willie?" asked Tom.

"Uh.. I.." Willie glanced fearfully at Maynard. "I guess I spilled it."

Maynard waved his hand wildly in the air. "Councilor! Councilor!" he bellowed. "I need water too."

"Okay," sighed Tom. "The stream runs over there. Please hurry back."

As the two boys headed for the stream Brad approached Tom. "Say listen, Tom." he said. "Could I go along with those guys?"

"Sure," answered Tom. "But hurry back."

Brad scrambled over the rocks near the stream and saw Maynard pushing Little Willie towards the water.

"You stop that!" Brad yelled.

"Oh, yea? Make me." Maynard advanced on Brad. "You're a shrimp." He took a swing with his knuckled fist. Brad tried to scoot out of the way, but tripped over a rock. Maynard's fist smacked his eye. Pain crashed through Brad's head, he fell near the stream. Maynard put his foot on Brad's belly and pushed him down in the mud. "Say you're a pickle face," the bully demanded.

"Okay," sputtered Brad. "You're a pickle face." As Maynard raised his foot to kick, Brad rolled away. Suddenly Tom was standing above the boys. "What's the problem here," he demanded.

"Nothing much," muttered Brad. Maynard was suddenly making a big show of helping Willie get his water.

"Okay, let's get back to the trail." Tom said. He watched as the boys filled their canteens, and followed them back to the hikers.

"Only half a mile to the lodge," Alice announced as the hikers were packing their lunch bags. "Let's get going."

Brad took the end of the line, behind Petes, as the group started up the trail. He could feel his eye beginning to swell.

Petes was huffing slowly along, every few minutes he would wipe his face with his handkerchief. "Nobody told me they were going to make us do this," he moaned as he pulled himself up a step in the trail.

Brad hung his head and didn't say a thing.

Petes stopped and wiped his forehead, he looked carefully at his friend. "I can see what's going on, you know." he said. "That Mr. Spensor's really got to you hasn't he?"

The line of hikers were slowly gaining distance ahead of them. "Well, I've got just the cure for that," Petes said; he rummaged in his shirt packet and pulled out a gooey chocolate bar. "Here," he said as he handed it to Brad.

"Thanks pal," smiled Brad. Suddenly it didn't seem so important any more. He gratefully licked at the melted chocolate as he struggled up the last part of the trail.