THE WALKING PARTY 161 



people were always laden with baskets containing 

 eatables to go with the coffee, simple viands unlike 

 the usual picnic fare. The coffee -pail was not 

 empty, for in it were packed the cups and spoons, 

 with the carefully measured ground coffee and the 

 egg which would finally combine to form our un- 

 excelled brew. We tried tying the tin cups on a 

 string and giving them to the Philosopher to carry. 

 But alas, the jangle drowned his improving conver- 

 sation, and that was not to be thought of. So the 

 cups were packed in the pail. 



Every Saturday afternoon in warm weather the 

 party assembled at two o'clock for the start. We 

 never parleyed long about the direction to be 

 taken or how we should reach the place. The 

 member who made the most attractive or vehe- 

 ment suggestion was allowed to have his way, and 

 was held responsible for getting us there by the 

 time we were hungry. Every gorge, hill, field, 

 glen, brook, waterfall and forest path within a 

 radius of six miles was explored by that sturdy 

 band. We built our camp-fire wherever it suited 

 us in the dry bed of a tiny brooklet, with broad 

 sheets of moss for seats; on the broad, flat stones 

 along the lake shore, where the red beacon of 

 our camp-fire stretched away over the tranquil 

 water to meet the rising moon. 



A recital of our menus would give a nervous 

 shock to the conventional picnic-goer. We tried 

 all known out-of-door dishes and some which had 

 been previously unknown. It was hard for even 

 me to see the appropriateness of two long-handled 

 K 



