178 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 



I think I have stated somewhere that Bert was a 

 noted cook and Frazer was unusually generous in 

 his commissary. Whenever it was possible the 

 packers had killed a beef on the range, settling after- 

 ward with the owner, and had kept us as a rule well 

 supplied with fresh meat. As camp fare goes we 

 lived unusually well. 



But to-night it was a different thing altogether. 

 As we tasted the strong, well seasoned soup ; de- 

 molished heaping platters of fresh vegetables and 

 fruits, revelled in fried chicken and cranberry sauce 

 and sweet potatoes and salad, we thought for the 

 sake of contrast of our beans, canned goods and 

 bacon and shuddered deliriously. 



After the feast we talked and sang and played de- 

 lightful, foolish games, till the big, rough-ceiled, 

 log-walled hall echoed with shouts that shook the 

 roof and even the merry stars seemed to look down 

 in wide eyed astonishment at the tremendous 

 clamour. 



It was a wonderful night, a magic night! 



And believe it or not the life of the gathering, 

 the feature of features, was Horace! He cer- 

 tainly made a hit ! The upright, broad shouldered 

 figure, the tanned features, the worn, stained clothes 

 that he wore, appealed at once by their picturesque- 

 ness. He was before long the centre of a circle 

 of admiring femininity and handling his admirers 

 like a general. 



Since his regeneration, Horace Had gladdened our 



