"If it wasn't for the humpdumple this would be a fine road," sighs the Old Guide, shaking his head."Doesn't do much good, though, to fix up a road and then have that old rascal come along and ruin it."
"And what's the humpdumple?" asks the wide-eyed "tenderfoot," to whom all the sights and sounds of the great woods of the North are strange. "I never heard of him before. Is he some kind of animal?"
"Well, yes and no," answers the Old Guide, squinting thoughtfully at the top of a tall pine tree. "He's a kind of queer mixture. He's a smart little fellow, but mean as they make them. Us guides certainly hate him. He makes more trouble than a bunch of lions and tigers."
"What does he do?" aks the tenderfoot nervously, feeling a little uneasy in the silence of the Big Woods, where his feet make no sound on the soft carpet of pine needles which almost cover the narrow, bumpy road, or, rather, path, which they are following deeper and deeper into the forest.
Then the Old Guide, who loves nothing better than to fool a stranger by telling in his solemn way about some freakish animal or bird which is supposed to be found in the Big Woods, describes this famous troublemaker—the humpdumple.
"He's the one that's responsible for all the holes you see in this road. Of course we wouldn't let a trail get in such bad shape as this if we could help it. We build a pretty good
