“I think this is it,” Morgan said, checking the directions Justin had written out for him. “We turn left just up there a ways by that road marker.”
Nate slowed his car down and made the turn. The road sign read Michipicoten. It was a steep, dirt road, heavily rutted by rain erosion. Nate had to drive slowly to avoid the ruts and rocks. On either side rose dense forests of hardwoods and pine.
“Looks just like Longfellow said it does in Hiawatha,” Nate said as he began to recite. “By the shores of Gitche Gumee…uh, stood…stood the wigwam of Nakomis…eh? Dark behind it rose the forest. Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees.”
“Bet you can’t recite the whole poem,” Morgan said.
“Bet you’re right. But I bet there’s a moose or two in there.”
Morgan smiled and nodded as he looked out the window
