There they swam and floated for a long time, dived, and ducked each other, and then lay on the grass in the sun until they dried.
"Paul," said Henry once, as they were stretched thus on the bank, "wouldn't you like to have nothing to do, but wander through the woods just as you pleased, sleep wherever you wished, and kill game when you grew hungry, just like the Indians ?" Henry's eyes were on the black line of the forest, and the blue haze of the sky beyond.

His spirit was away in the depths of the unknown.
"I don't know," replied Paul.

"I guess a white boy has to become a white man, after a while, and they say that the difference between a white man and the Indian is that the white man has to work." "But the Indians get along without it," said Henry.
"No they don't," replied Paul.

"We win all the country because we've learned how to do things while we are working." Yet Henry was unconvinced, and his thoughts wandered far into the black forest and the blue haze.
The cattle pastured near the deepest of the swimming holes, and it often fell to the lot of the boys to bring them into the palisade at sunset.
This was a duty of no little importance, because if any of the cattle wandered away into the forest and were lost, they could not be replaced.
It was now the latter half of summer, and the grass and foliage were fast turning brown in the heat.

Late on the afternoon of one of the very hottest days Henry and Paul went to the deepest swimming hole.