Scott Morgan
Oakdale Boys in Camp

CHAPTER I.
THE CAMPING PARTY

The afternoon of a lazy midsummer day was waning as an old white horse drew a heavily loaded, creaking, complaining farm wagon along a crude, seldom used road which wound through the depths of a silent stretch of timberland. A sleepy looking, tow-headed boy with round apple cheeks sat on the wagon-seat and held the reins. Behind the wagon five more boys straggled along on foot, stumbling over the rocks and “cradle knolls.” The party, with the exception of the drowsy driver, who had been engaged to transport the camping outfit from Pemstock, the nearest railroad station, was bound for Phantom Lake, the objective point of the expedition.

As originally planned, the company had been made up of four Oakdale lads, Phil Springer, Sile Crane, Ben Stone and Rodney Grant; but, listening to their talk of the sport they would have on such an outing, Sleuth Piper had become inspired by a longing to join them, and almost at the last moment he had succeeded in securing permission of his parents. The five mile jaunt from Pemstock to Phantom Lake followed a journey of twenty odd miles by rail; but, despite the dust, heat and bad roads, the enthusiasm of the boys showed no symptoms of waning.

Carrying a double barreled shotgun and wearing an old leather-banded cowboy hat and a belt supporting a sheathed hunting knife, Piper followed close behind the writhing wagon, peering with an exaggerated air of caution and keenness into the timber and bushes on either hand. The rustling of a running chipmunk, the distant chatter of a red squirrel, or the cawing of a crow, lazily wheeling overhead, was sufficient to cause Piper to halt with quickly uplifted hand and the pose of one who sensed an impending danger.

“Oh, what’s the matter with yeou naow?” drawled Sile Crane in exasperation, as he finally stumbled against Sleuth’s heels. “Yeou couldn’t shoot anything if yeou saw it, and, anyhaow, the old gun ain’t loaded.”

“Hush!” sibilated Sleuth. “We’re in the enemy’s country, and peril menaces us on every hand. Who knows that the chatter of yonder squirrel or the sudden cry of the soaring crow does not betoken the near presence of some prowling varmint? There may be bloodthirsty redskins lying in ambush for us, and, unless we preserve extreme caution, perchance our scalps tonight will dangle in the wigwams of the Wampanoags.”

“Oh, go on with yeour dinged fol-de-rol,” snorted Crane. “Yeou’ve read so many of them cheap Injun stories that yeou’re half nutty. Between them yarns and the detective stuff yeou sop up, yeou’ll go clean off yeour base if yeou don’t look aout. Come, pudge along.” He ended by giving Sleuth a vigorous shove that nearly sent the smaller lad sprawling.

“Careful, Sile,” begged Ben Stone. “Have you forgotten that it was Sleuthy’s clever work which practically saved me from the stigma of a crime? If you have, I haven’t, and I’m not liable to forget it.”

Piper gave his champion, a stocky, square built, somewhat unprepossessing lad, a grateful look.

“I guess I opened their eyes some that time, didn’t I, Ben?” he grinned proudly. “I made the fellers that had been poking fun at me sit up and take notice. I had them all spellbound in court when I told my story and gave my deductions.”

“Yes,” chuckled Phil Springer, who was wearing a canvas suit that crinkled and rustled at every step. “It was so still in the court room that you might have heard a gum-drop.”

“A pun that’s right worthy of Chipper Cooper himself,” observed Rodney Grant, who, although a genuine Texan and the son of a cattleman, was the most simply and practically dressed member of the party. “We must be getting near the lake. It’s sure a wonder to me that the Dutchman hasn’t rolled off the wagon-seat before this and broken his neck. Look at him! There he goes! Oh, Dutchy, look out!”

The sleepy driver seemed to awaken and recover barely in time to prevent himself from bounding like a ball beneath the forward wheels of the wagon.

“Vat’s der matter?” he gurgled, yanking at the reins and turning to glare, red-faced, over his shoulder. “Vy iss it you at me yell like dot undt nearly make me off fall? Who vas you calling Tutchman already now? I vould haff you understood dot I peen a Cherman.”

His indignation brought a shout of laughter from the boys.

“Pardon me for breaking in on your peaceful slumbers,” entreated the Texan. “We were reckoning the lake must be right near by this time.”

The German lad rubbed his eyes, yawned, and looked around.

“Yah,” he said, “der lake hass almost reached us. It vill soon be here, I peliefe. Not much more must we on go.”

“We’ll never reach the lul-lul-lake in the world if you gug-gug-get twisted in gug-guiding as much as you do in tut-talking,” said Springer.

“Vot iss?” cried the young German in derision. “Anyvay, I do not up chop my vurds, der vay you did. Ven dose vurds did out come your mouth from, it iss mincemeats they vas already.”

This turned the laugh on Springer, who sought in vain to make a sufficiently sarcastic retort, and became so excited through the effort that he stammered more than usual.

“Oh, start up your old nag again, Dutch,” urged Crane. “Yeou and Springer both murder language in a criminal fashion.”

“Maype dot peen so,” admitted the lad on the wagon; “but it iss py our mouths we talk, undt not our noses through.” With which solid shot he chirruped to the old horse, and the wagon creaked onward once more.

“It sure seems to me,” laughed Grant, “that Mr. Carl Duckelstein isn’t near as sleepy as he looks. As we’ve engaged him to bring us butter, eggs and milk daily, he may provide some amusement for us.”

In a few moments, the road taking a bend through the trees, they set the woods ringing with shouts of satisfaction, for before them they caught a glimpse of the placid blue waters of Phantom Lake. Soon the broad sweep of the sheltered island-dotted lake, with a range of mountainous hills rising directly from the shore at the further side, opened out before them, the prospect being one to make their youthful hearts beat swiftly.

Eight miles in length and fully half as far across at its widest point, the forest-surrounded, mountain-sentineled strip of water was one of the most picturesque sheets to be found in old New England, remaining as yet unspoiled by too many swarming campers and resorters, although a newly opened hotel near the base of the highest and most precipitous cliff of the range of hills was attracting increasing numbers of the latter class. From Pleasant Point, which the Oakdale boys had now reached, the hotel far across the lake could be glimpsed amid the green foliage at the base of the purple cliff.

Springer capered like a colt, shouting again in joyous abandon as he ran out on the point to get a good view of his surroundings.

“It’s gug-great, fellows,” he cried – “simply great! This is a corking place to camp. Why, here’s deep water on one side right off the rocks, and a cove with a sandy beach on the other sus-side. Gee whiz! it’s fine.”

The enthusiasm of the others, excepting, of course, the seemingly stolid German lad, was scarcely less unrestrained.

“It certain is all right,” was the decision of Rod Grant. “I’ll admit it beats anything to be found in Rogers County, Texas.”

“Here’s a rippin’ place to go in swimmin’ right off the rocks,” announced Crane, inspecting one side of the point. “Looks like a feller can dive off into ten foot of water. By glory! we sartain ought to have fun here.”

“Come over here,” called Stone from the other side. “Come on over, fellows. Here’s a place where we can land with our canoe when we get it over from Pemstock.”

With one foot crossed over the other, Sleuth Piper leaned on the muzzle of the shotgun, in imitation of the pictured pose of some scout or trapper he had seen on the cover of such a lurid yarn as pleased his fancy, calmly surveying the prospect from the most sightly spot of the point.

“We should not forget,” he said, “that we’re in the heart of the Dark and Bloody Ground, afar from the nearest settlement. What seems so peaceful and serene to the naked eye may hide a thousand deadly dangers. Though the pizen redskin may not be near, through these trackless wilds prowl innumerable ferocious beasts that – ”

“Wake up,” cried Crane. “Turn over; yeou’re on yeour back.”

“Let’s get busy,” suggested Stone. “There’ll be plenty of time to look around tomorrow, and we’ve got to hustle to pitch that tent and get supper before dark.”

“Sure,” agreed Grant. “Everybody get busy. Come on.”

CHAPTER II.
MAKING CAMP

Carl, the German boy, was dozing again upon the wagon-seat. When they awoke him he grumbled a little, but they did not ask him to assist in unloading, knowing that he would simply be in the way. It required only a few minutes to remove the boxes, bales and bundles, which were piled together promiscuously.

“Is there a spring near by, Carl?” asked Grant.

“Vot does a spring vant uf you?” returned the German lad in surprise.

“We must have water to drink.”

“Vater? Goot cracious! Didt you oxpect to up drink der whole lake right avay soon?”

“Not exactly, but we weren’t right sure it was suitable for drinking purposes. It’s all right, is it?”

“Vale, it vas vet, undt uf you drink it I don’t peliefe it vill disagreement by you. Howefer, uf it didt not like you, there vas a spring in der voods pack somevhere. I could not say how near it vas avay.”

“Well,” laughed Rod, “although that’s plenty indefinite, I reckon we can find it. You’ll come early in the morning with the butter, eggs and milk, will you?”

“Yah, der putter, eggs undt milks vill pring me early,” assured Carl.

“And then you are to hike to Pemstock and tote our canoe in to us.”

“‘Hike’ and ‘tote’ didt not understood me,” replied Carl; “but I vill go undt dot canoe get tomorrow as soon as possibility.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Grant.

As the German boy gathered up the reins to back the wagon round, Piper stepped forward and checked him with an uplifted hand.

“Stay,” said Sleuth. “Pause a moment. Would you inform us if there are any dangerous wild beasts in this virgin forest? Are there likely to be animals prowling about against whose attack we should keep a nocturnal vigil?”

“Vot vas dot, a dog?” asked Carl wonderingly. “Didt you mean vas you to keep a dog to out vatch for vild animals? I didt not observation dot you had a dog aroundt anyvhere. Maype, howefer, you have vun your pocket in.”

Sleuth shook his head sadly. “It’s evident,” he returned, “that you are not wise to the delicate shadings of the English language. By a nocturnal vigil I mean a night watch.”

“Oh, yah,” nodded Carl. “Now I understooded it. You haf a night vatch your pocket in, in order dot der time can see you ven it iss dark. I peliefe maype it vas a goot kindt uf a vatch to have.”

“You haven’t answered my interrogation concerning the before-mentioned dangerous wild animals,” persisted Piper, unheeding the half suppressed merriment of his companions. “Are there any around these parts?”

“Last vinter,” was the answer, “my oldt man he didt see der feetprints uf a gouger, undt dot gouger didt off carry vun uf our sheeps.”

“A gouger?” cried Sleuth. “What is that?”

“It vas a gouger; a vild peast mit four feets undt claws undt two eyes undt teeth undt a goot appetite for meat undt plood.”

“A-a-ah!” breathed Sleuth, with a long, shuddering intake of his breath. “I knew there must be such ferocious creatures in this wild and desolate wilderness, but what a gouger can be has got me guessing.”

“Perhaps,” suggested Grant, “he means a cougar.”

“Dot peen vot I said already,” persisted the German boy. “Vale, I must along go uf I vill home get pefore dark. Goot py, undt don’t let dot gouger catch you.”

Turning with some difficulty, he drove away into the stilly woods, the bumping and creaking of the old wagon drifting back to the ears of the campers a long time after it had disappeared from view. Ere those sounds fully died out Piper brought forth his jack-knife, hastily cut open one of the burlap-covered bundles, and extracted a hatchet, with which he attacked one of the smaller wooden boxes.

“Here, what are yeou tryin’ ter do?” cried Crane. “Don’t go ter stavin’ up that box; we may need it. What be yeou after?”

“The ammunition – the cartridges for the gun,” palpitated Piper. “As a means of defense against a ravenous cougar, the weapon is practically null and void unless loaded.”

Stone seized the hatchet and wrested it from the hand of the agitated youth. “When we’re ready to open that box,” he said, “we’ll do so without smashing it into kindling, for we’re going to need it again when we pack up. Have some sense, Sleuth. There are no cougars in these parts.”

“Nun-never heard of one,” said Springer. “There might be woodchucks or hedgehogs, or even, sometimes, a wildcat; but I’ll bub-bub-bet nobody ever saw a cougar around here.”

“Nevertheless,” declared Sleuth grimly, “I intend to stand on guard tonight with this loaded weapon. Many a foolish, reckless man has lost his life by carelessness in the wild regions of an unknown land.”

“As fur as I’m consarned,” said Crane, “yeou can stand on guard if yeou want to; but when it comes time to turn in, you’ll see me hittin’ the blanket.”

“The first thing to be done,” said Grant, who seemed to be the natural leader of the party, “is to pitch our tent and prepare for supper. Let’s choose a camping spot. I reckon it won’t be hard to find a good one here.”

“What’s the mum-matter with this place right where we are?” asked Springer. “It’s all cleared up excepting a few rocks, and it’s pretty near level.”

“I judge we can find a better place,” was the opinion of the Texan. “This is too far back on the point; we should get out where we can feel more of the breeze, which will help to drive away flies and winged insects. Furthermore, this is in a slight hollow that would get mighty wet if it rained hard. We must look out for drainage in case of rain. I think I can see a good place.”

The spot he chose needed to be cleared of some low bushes and a few small loose rocks that were not difficult to remove. By using that location, as Rod explained, not only would they get the benefit of whatever breeze might be stirring and have dry ground beneath them if it rained, but the tent could be so pitched that the early morning sun would shine full upon the front of it, and some near-by trees would provide cool shelter throughout the warm middle hours of the day. Furthermore, two low, flat-topped rocks, at a distance of some fifteen feet from where the tent would stand, formed a sort of triangle, which, partly closed in with some more stones that might be found near by, could readily be made, with the aid of the sheet-iron top they had brought, into a combined cook-stove and fireplace. Four or five feet from the rocks grew three stout saplings, likewise in a triangle and close enough together so that, by nailing cross-pieces to them and spanning those cross-pieces with boards from one of the boxes, a handy cook’s table might be constructed in a few minutes.

The boys listened to Rodney with increasing respect for his judgment and sound horse sense.

“Gall dinged if yeou don’t seem to know jest haow to do these things, Texas,” drawled Crane. “I guess we’ll foller yeour lead.”

“All right,” nodded Grant briskly. “Do you know how to rustle firewood?”

“I was brung up on a farm, and I cal’late I know as much abaout the different kinds of wood as anybody here.”

“Then get the axe out of that bundle Piper cut open and go foraging for wood. Stone, can you cook any at all?”

“Not much,” confessed Ben; “but I suppose I can fry bacon, and that’s about all the cooking there’ll be to do tonight.”

“That’s right. We’ve bread and some canned stuff. You can get out the stove top and cooking utensils and build the fireplace, with the help of Piper, who will bring such extra stones as you may need. Springer, I reckon you and I had better clear away here, unpack the tent and get it ready for pitching. When we need the others we can call them to give us a helping hand.”

In this manner he set them all at work, and, to their credit, every fellow took hold with a will. While Springer and Grant were ripping up the small bushes by the roots, removing the loose stones and smoothing out the ground for the tent floor, Piper, red-faced and grunting, brought rocks for Stone to build the fireplace, and, that being done, aided him in constructing the cook’s table. The ring of Crane’s axe resounded through the near-by woods, and presently he appeared with a huge armful of dry sugar maple cut from a fallen tree.

“If this ain’t as good firewood as anybody can find araound here,” he said, dropping it on the ground near the fireplace, “I’ll eat every stick of it.”

“Where’s the axe?” questioned Grant.

“I left her stickin’ in the log.”

“Get it. Cut a chopping block if you can find anything suitable, and bring it along with the axe, which we’ll need when we come to drive the stakes for pitching the tent. I don’t reckon it’s a good plan to leave an axe out in the woods away from camp.”

Two minutes later the strokes of the axe were again ringing through the woods, and in less than quarter of an hour Crane reappeared with the implement in his hand, rolling along the ground before him a chopping block, which he had cut from the small sugar maple.

By this time the fireplace was constructed and a fire already started in it. Furthermore, the cook’s table was almost ready for use. The tent had been unpacked, shaken out and spread on the ground with the ridgepole lying in position beneath it. At each end of the tent lay the uprights, ready to be raised into position. The axe and the smaller hatchet were placed handy for use at either end of the tent, after which the tent fly was spread in its proper place, with the loops of the long guys over the front and rear pole pins. Stout stakes had been driven at both ends of the tent, and to these the guy ropes were made fast. The loops at the four corners of the tent were likewise made fast to stakes, the pins of the uprights were slipped through the ridgepole ends, and Grant announced that everything was ready for the raising.

It is probable that the fellow who has never pitched a tent in the woods will not understand the thrill of that moment which was experienced by the young campers as, directed by Grant, they placed themselves in position to hoist away. As only four were required for this part of the work, Piper stood back and awaited orders. The others, two at each end, grasped the front and rear uprights and lifted the ridgepole, bearing the tent and fly. As soon as convenient, two of the boys slipped inside and seized the poles to assist, after which the uprights were hoisted into a vertical position. Those within remained holding them thus until the four corners were carried out and made fast to the ground pins. After this, the tent being thus temporarily secured, all went about the work of setting the guy pins and making the ropes fast to them.

The wall pins were next driven into place and the walls roped down to them. Then the fly was lifted to a proper height and guyed off, Piper keeping busy assisting to make everything staunch and taut.

“There she is, fellows,” said Grant proudly, stepping away and running his fingers through his damp hair, “and it sure is my opinion that for a bunch of novices we’ve made a right good job of it. She stands as square and true as anybody could ask, and I opine she’ll provide shelter as long as we want it, in any kind of weather.”

“You bub-bet,” exulted Springer. “Don’t it look fine? It’s a dandy, fellows.”

“The teepee is erected,” said Piper.

“What be we goin’ to call our camp?” asked Crane.

“Let’s call it Camp Oakdale,” suggested Stone.

“That’s it; that’s the name,” cried the others.

“A cheer, then, for Camp Oakdale,” proposed Grant.

They responded right lustily.

CHAPTER III.
EVENING AT PLEASANT POINT

From the cooking kit the sheet-iron stove top, having two holes with covers, was brought forth and placed over the fire, each end resting on the edges of the flat-topped rocks. In this manner the cook stove was made ready for use, and while Stone fried bacon, made coffee, opened a tin of meat and carried forward all the preparations for supper, the others unpacked and stowed away the rest of the outfit.

The ground-cloth was smoothly spread over the levelled tent floor and made fast, after which, having decided on the positions of the beds, everything to be kept beneath the tent was brought inside and placed as conveniently as possible in the most limited space close to one of the tent walls. Of course there was some discussion over the stowing of these articles, but in the end it was Grant who decided how it should be done. And it was the Texan who selected two tall, straight young trees, each about six inches in diameter, standing some distance from the tent, and instructed Crane to cut them down and trim them smoothly, that they might be used as “bed rails.” Before these rails could be fully prepared, however, Stone called them to supper.

“Ay-yi!” responded Crane, instantly dropping the axe. “Yeou bet that saounds good ter me. I’ve ketched a few whiffs of that sizzling bacon, and it’s made me so ravenous I could eat an old bootleg. Seems to me I never was so nigh famished in all my life.”

The others were no less hungry, and they lost little time in seating themselves, cross-legged, upon the ground about a box cover which Stone had brought into use as a temporary table top.

“We can put up a regular dining table tomorrow,” said Ben; “but this will have to do tonight.” He was pouring the coffee as he spoke. “No milk, but plenty of sugar. Here’s the fried bacon, the canned meat, and toast – burned a little, perhaps – and cheese. Not much of a meal, but it will have to do for the first one in camp. Tomorrow we’ll have fresh eggs and butter and milk and – ”

“Fish,” put in Piper; “all kinds of ’em, right out of the water. Wait till I get my fishing gear together and start out after the finny denizens of this landlocked deep.”

“I’ll bet you’re a great fuf-fuf-fisherman, Sleuth,” grinned Springer, winking slyly at Grant. “You know all about it, don’t you?”

“As a general all-round Nimrod,” replied Piper, forking a piece of bacon and depositing it on a slice of the blackened toast, “I’m simply a wonder. The fish don’t have a ghost of a chance when I get after them.”

“Hush!” cautioned Grant. “Speak low. There may be some fish near this point, and, if they should hear you and carry the news of your presence to their relatives and friends, it might produce a tremendous panic among the ‘finny denizens of this landlocked deep;’ and we don’t want to scare them all away.”

“I don’t know much abaout fishin’,” mumbled Crane, his mouth full of food, “so I guess I’ll git yeou to give me some lessons, Sleuth.”

“Piper,” said Stone, seating himself after pouring the coffee, “must indeed be a past master in woodcraft, hunting and fishing. He’s the only fellow who has brought a sleeping bag. I say, Sleuth, where did you get that thing?”

“Borrowed it of Jim Bailey, who outfitted to go to the Klondike ten years ago and never went,” answered Piper. “Oh, you fellows can have your beds, but I propose to do this thing up in style; and, while you’re tossing restlessly on boughs and blankets, I’ll be snugly ensconced in my cozy sleeping bag. They are great things when you’re camping out; Bailey said so.”

Chattering and bantering in this manner, the boys thoroughly enjoyed the meal, their faces lighted by the soft, warm rays of the sun, that was on the verge of sinking behind the wooded range at the far side of the lake. Already the white hotel could barely be discerned, and the purplish shadows were creeping out from the base of the hills. The lake lay like a mirror, with no breath of air rippling its glassy surface. The peace of evening in the solitudes was closing in.

“Let’s hustle up a bit, fellows,” urged Grant. “We must cut some boughs for our beds before it gets too dark. If we can only get some genuine balsam boughs, it will be right fine.”

“There’s some balsam trees back beyond where I cut the firewood,” announced Crane; “but now that I’ve et I feel so lazy I don’t care much abaout cuttin’ boughs. What’s the use to trouble aourselves tonight; we’ve got blankets to roll up in.”

“The blankets are all right,” returned Rodney; “but anyone who tries to sleep in them with no boughs beneath him is sure going to find it uncomfortable before morning. The ground itself gets mighty hard, as I know from experience, and a chap who has been working and perspiring will feel plenty cold before morning comes, no matter how warm and easy he is when he first rolls in. I propose to have some boughs under me.”

“With my sleeping bag,” said Sleuth, “I need nothing of the sort.”

“Then,” said Rod, “you can gather up the dishes and wash them while the rest of us are cutting boughs. Everyone must do something.”

Dish washing being especially abhorrent to him, Piper groaned and grumbled, although he did not refuse to perform the task to which he had been assigned. The others, provided with the axe, hatchet and strong knives, set forth, Grant leading the way, in search of the necessary boughs. Not far from the tent, in a little open spot, Sile paused a moment to kick off the top of an ants’ nest and watch the frantic creatures which were exposed to view in that manner.

“To-morrer,” he said, “if we’ve got it to spare, I’ll turn some kerosene over this ’ere colony, and that’ll fix ’em. We don’t want any of them things crawling into the tent to nip us at night. I tell yeou they can bite some.”

“They must be almost as dangerous as Carl’s ‘gouger,’” laughed Rodney; “but we can’t fool with them now.”

Crane had really located some trees of balsam fir, and, with the shadows deepening, they made haste to cut several huge armfuls, which they carried back and piled in front of the tent. This accomplished, the bed rails were cut off at the proper length and smoothly trimmed of branches and knots, after which they were placed lengthwise in the tent, one being rolled up close against the wall, while the other, each end protruding from beneath the canvas so that it could be pinned fast to the ground, was laid parallel about four feet away. The space between those logs was then filled with the boughs, all carefully spread out, the softest tips being reserved for the top. It was necessary to light the lantern that they might see to spread the blankets, but finally the beds were arranged to their entire satisfaction.

Sleuth, having finished his task with the dishes, removed the stove top and replenished the fire, reclined in the light of the blaze and with a superior air watched his laboring comrades, secure in the belief that his sleeping bag would provide luxury and comfort denied the others.

Grant had brought along a guitar, an instrument presented to him by a cowboy on his father’s ranch, and this he now produced and put in tune, seated on the chopping block near the fire. The rest found comfortable positions near at hand, and, having strummed a while, Rod struck into “The Spanish Cavalier.” He had a clear, melodious voice, and he carried the air, the others joining, with the exception of Piper, who could not sing a note to save his life.

 
“The Spanish cavalier stood in his retreat,
And on his guitar played a tune, dear;
The music so sweet he oft would repeat —
The blessings of my country and you, dear.
Oh, say, darling, say, when I’m far away,
Sometimes you may think of me, dear;
The bright sunny day will soon fade away,
Remember what I say and be true, dear.”
 

The hushed and breathless trees seemed to be listening. The melody of the song floated far over the shrouded bosom of the lake, beyond which the light of the hotel gleamed at the foot of the cliff, on the highest crest of which a great white cross had been planted. The waving firelight flooded over the boys, seated or half reclining upon the ground, with the tent standing out snowy white against the black background of the forest. There was no moon, and overhead a few vapory stars peered through the haze which had spread across the sky. At times the fire, rising, flung a gilded gleam out upon the placid water off Pleasant Point.

The glamor and poetry of the time and place was distinctly felt by all those boys. It was a splendid thing to be alive and to be there, a little band of congenial friends and comrades granted the ever-to-be-remembered delights of this midsummer outing in the best days of enthusiastic, unsatiated, golden youth. In years to come, when the hard, cutting edges of life’s experiences and cares had rasped away their fervor and left them, perhaps, incapable of deep enjoyment of simple things, they would sometimes recall this outing with the mingled thrills of regret and pleasure which memory so often yields.

They sang other old-fashioned songs: “Swanee River,” “Aunt Dinah’s Quilting Party,” “Bring Back My Bonny to Me;” and then, alone, strumming the accompaniment on the guitar, Grant rendered that doleful pastoral of the plains, “The Cowboy’s Lament.”

The mood for singing passed, and they were silent, even the Texan, having put aside his instrument, leaned his elbows on his knees and propped his chin with his hands to stare moodily into the sinking fire. As the unreplenished flames died down, the shadows crept nearer and the tent seemed to beckon to the embrace of its shelter.

Finally Piper shook himself, sat up, stretched his arms above his head and yawned.

“Me to the sleeping bag,” he said. “I’m going to turn in.”