254 



Tlic American Ansrlcr. 



must be responsible for it. There are 

 eight men in the party, tired, world- 

 worn like ourselves, but all jolly good 

 fellows and happy as dogs in anticipa- 

 tion of their outing. The equipment 

 includes two ordinary tents, two bales 

 of good straw for bedding, half a 

 dozen light rifles, a trap and blue rocks 

 and breech-loading shot guns, one or 

 more fishing outfits for each man, and 

 perhaps three hundred live minnows. 



The word is given, the man at the 

 wheel rings for power, and the trim 

 little craft first backs gently out from 

 the levee and glides off up the river, 

 past and out of the dust and smoke of 

 the city, into the silver and gold sheen 

 of sunset and the green of the shores 

 ahead. The soft river breeze springs 

 up with the motion of the boat, and 

 like a fairy hand smoothes the wrinkle 

 from the brow. The world and its 

 cares are forgotten, and the man of 

 affairs is, to all intents and purposes, 

 the glad, free being that he aspires to 

 imitate in the name that he has chosen 

 to be called by for the nonce. With a 

 current running four miles per hour, 

 we arrive at our destination, just as the 

 sun disappears behind the western 

 shore-line. The engines are stopped, 

 the boat made fast, and the chief gives 

 the command for all hands to fall in and 

 make camp. Each brave goes to his 

 appointed duty, and in what would 

 seem, to the novice, an incredible short 

 time, the tents are pitched, and one 

 equipped for sleeping accommodations 

 and the other for eating and living 

 during the day, while two bright fires, 

 springing up in front, drive back the 

 dews and insect pests of these low 

 lands in summer. I will add that, 

 right here is where the mettle of the 

 new-comer to these outings is tested. 

 The man who has been favored with 



his first invitation to one of these ex- 

 peditions is mercilessly, though silently 

 scrutinized, by the old veteran during 

 the making and breaking of camp, and 

 if he is inclined to shirk any duty or 

 display, by any of the little things 

 that it is impossible to describe, his 

 unfitness to mix with and become 

 thoroughly identified with the spirit 

 of the occasion, this will probably be 

 his last trip of the kind. His feelings 

 will not be hurt by criticism, he will be 

 made to feel as much at home as pos- 

 sible, but his name will be quietly 

 scratched from the probationary list, 

 and he may subsequently wonder why 

 his invitation has not been renewed. 

 This he will never learn from any 

 member of the club. 



But omitting such an unpleasant possi- 

 bility, the appointed cook at once begins 

 the preparation of supper. Potatoes 

 are baked in a hole in the ground, 

 coffee is prepared, and the fresh meat 

 fried, and within half-an-hour the forest 

 echoes the lusty call to table, the latter 

 consisting of two light pine boards upon 

 trusses, and weighing altogether not 

 ten pounds. It is not necessary for me 

 to tell to any sportsman the profound 

 satisfaction derivable from a meal of 

 this kind in camp. The frugal fare 

 seems more delicious than the most 

 epicurean banquet in a festal hall, and 

 the strong coffee that washes it down 

 is more pleasant to the palate than 

 Cook's Imperial at the city club. 



The meal over, dishes, what few 

 there are, are washed, and an evening 

 of mediaeval, not to say savage, 

 pleasures, is in order. Pipes are lit 

 and cards introduced, and in the con- 

 templation of the game — just for fun — 

 and the glowing bowl, the subtle train 

 of reminiscent thought is fired, and 

 the Chief tells the first and latest 



