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Jack Winters' Campmates

Jack Winters' Campmates

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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things, and do our talking afterwards,” suggested Jack.

“That’s right,” agreed Toby, “because already the sun is setting, and before long it’ll be getting plumb dark. Luckily enough we thought to fetch that lantern along with us, though, and a supply of oil in the bargain.”

14“I wonder,” said Jack, with an amused chuckle, “if there was a single thing we did forget to pack in the wagon. Talk about going into the woods light, when you’ve got a convenient wagon to carry things along, you’re apt to fetch three times as much as you really need.”

“I’m one of those fellows who like comfort every time,” admitted Steve; “and I suppose I’m responsible for a heap of these things right now; but never mind, Jack, some of them may yet come in handy; you never know.”

They seemed to be fairly well versed in the art of raising a tent; at least Jack knew how to go about it.

“Time presses too much to be overly particular how we get it up tonight,” he told the others when they suggested that it did not seem to be quite as firmly staked as seemed proper. “Tomorrow we’ll rectify all errors. Now, if Toby will begin to get the bedding inside, and sort over the cooking things, I’ll make a fireplace. Steve, would you mind taking the ax and cutting some wood?”

“Happy to do so,” chirped the big fellow, who had always boasted of being handy with an ax, as his muscular condition gave him an advantage over both the others. “The only trouble is I’m as hungry as a wolf right now, and so much extra exercise will make me wild for my supper.”

The sound of the ax soon announced that Steve was doing his duty, and that a supply of wood for the cooking fire was certain to be forthcoming.

15Meanwhile, Jack had started to build a fireplace with a number of stones which lay conveniently near by. From the blackened state of some of these the boy suspected they had served for just such a purpose on some former occasion.

When he had fixed this to suit his ideas of the proper thing he had arranged the stones so that one end of the fireplace was a little broader than the other.

Across this space he now laid a metal framework that looked like a grill, and which was two feet square. This was bound to prove a most valuable camping asset, since coffee pot and frying pan could be placed on it without much danger of those accidents that occur so often when they are balanced upon the rough edges of the stones themselves.

All was now ready for the fire itself, which Jack quickly started. Toby gave an exclamation of satisfaction the instant he saw the flames leap up.

“Too bad we were in such a hurry,” he went on to say, regretfully. “Some sort of ceremony ought to attend the starting of the first fire in camp. It’s going to be our best friend you know, when even we get ravenously hungry; and seems to me we might at least have joined hands, and danced around the blaze while we crooned some sort of song dedicated to the god of fire.”

“None of those silly frills go in this camp, Toby, you want to know,” said Steve, sternly, coming in just then with an armful of firewood. “This is a business camp, and not a make-believe one. We’re 16 up here to enjoy ourselves, and take pictures, but no barbaric rites can be allowed. Leave all that for the savages of the South Sea Islands, or those fire worshippers we read about. I love a fire as well as the next fellow, but you don’t catch me capering around a blaze, and singing to it like a foolish goose.”

Toby was too busily engaged then to attempt to argue the matter. He had arranged most of the provisions so that a choice could be made, and now he ran off a long string of edibles, most of which, however, would require too much time in the cooking to be chosen.

As is usually the case under similar conditions, they finally decided to cut off a couple of slices from the big ham, and with some of the already boiled potatoes fried crisp and brown, make that the main dish for their first supper.

Soon delicious odors began to arise and be wafted away on the evening air. If any of those curious little woods rodents that might be peeping from their covert at the invaders of their solitude had a nose capable of appreciating such perfumes, they must have been greatly edified by these queer goings-on.

But hungry boys have no thought save to satisfy their clamorous appetites, and so little unnecessary talking was done up to the time when the trio curled themselves up with their feet under them, tailor fashion, and proceeded to clean off their heaping pie pans of the savory mess that had been prepared.


17CHAPTER III
THE FIRST NIGHT UNDER CANVAS

“This is something that just can’t be beat!” Toby remarked, after he had made serious inroads upon his first helping, and taken off the keen edge of his clamorous appetite. “I enjoy my food at home all right, but let me tell you nothing can ever quite come up to a supper cooked under the trees, and far removed from all the things you’re accustomed to meeting every day.”

“And this coffee is sure nectar for the gods,” said Steve, helping himself to a second cup as he spoke. “Now, at home I never can bear this tinned cream, yet, strange to say, up here in the woods it seems to go first rate. Pass me the sugar, please, Jack. And Toby, after I’ve slacked my hunger a bit so I can act half way decent I’m meaning to toast some of the slices of bread at that splendid red-ash fire.”

So they continued to sit there and fairly gorge themselves until Steve could hardly sigh, he was so full; but then all boys are built pretty much alike in that respect, so we can easily forgive Steve in particular. Cutting wood does put an edge on a naturally keen appetite that knows no 18 limit save capacity; and Steve had many good qualities to more than balance his greediness.

Later on when they lay around enjoying the sight of the crackling fire, and casting pleased glances toward the capacious khaki-colored waterproof tent that stood close by, they talked of many things that had some connection with their intended stay in the Pontico Hills country.

“This sweet little stream with the ice-cold water is the Spruce Creek you’ve got marked on your map, of course, Jack?” suggested Toby. “Now how far away would you say Paradise River lies from our camp?”

“Oh! not more than ten minutes’ walk from here, I imagine, and in that direction,” and Jack pointed as he spoke, showing that he already had his bearings pretty well fixed in his mind.

“Why do you suppose those loggers ever made camp here when they expected to get their timber out through the river, and the lake below, perhaps shipping by way of Chester?”

Toby asked this question as though he sought information, and if so, he appealed to the right person, for Jack was quick to reply.

“Why, I understand that the ground lies pretty low down by the river, Toby; and a camp there might be in danger of being flooded out with the spring rise. You know Paradise River does get on a tear some years, and pours into our lake like mad. These lumbermen had long heads, and didn’t mean to take chances of being drowned out 19 of their camp. This higher ground served them better, just as it will us now. That’s the only answer I can think of.”

“And it comes mighty near being the true one, I’m telling you, Toby,” affirmed Steve, positively. “I’m right glad we’ve been wise enough to look out for that sort of thing. Huh! had one nasty experience of being flooded in a camp, where we had to wade up to

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