Paul Holt stepped out of his office in the large, Victorian frame house on the lakeshore and pulled the rope on the brass bell mounted on the porch railing. He brushed his thick, blond hair away from his eyes and leaned back against the railing as the counselor trainees gathered in front of him.

At 25, he was senior to the oldest of them by a mere six years and he was painfully aware of his responsibility to take charge immediately and make sure they all did their jobs. If this counselor training session went well and the camp officials he had contracted with were pleased with the results, there was good chance he’d get referrals to other summer camps and be able to double his enrollment next year. It was an excellent way of adding a couple of weeks of extra work to the summer season and building up a part time vacation business for himself.

He got to spend and enjoyable few weeks in the woods running his own business and picking up some extra money for grad school.

He looked around, trying to remember all their names as they started to come out from the other cabins where they had been unpacking and settling in.