For some among the younger set of the nation's 50 million outdoor enthusiasts, these days are very special, for summer means a trip to camp for them. It is the time of shining faces and hopeful hearts, of gap-toothed grins that hide a touch of childish trepidation, of sturdy little legs that trudge from home's familiar front porch to railroad station, bus depot or airline terminal. It is the time when a door swings open in a boy's small world, revealing wondrous vistas: canoes and lakes, campfires in the wilderness; but also eerie night sounds and the sudden, gnawing longing for home—a time of comradeship in tests and trials which bring the boy just that much closer to the man. It is a time when the son whom you have held so close takes his first step alone into a world which henceforth will be real to him: the world of nature from which he sprang, and also the world of men. It is a time half-joyous and half-fearful to a child's trembling and anticipating spirit; and what it means is shown on the following pages devoted to one such camp, Camp Sunapee in New London, N.H.