SUPPEl?.— A SNUG PIT. 87 



trout with a liunoiy man's vigor— "ordain and establish— 

 is that good law phrase, Mr. Indignant Lawyer?— that 

 while we are in camp, and there's plenty to eat, every man 

 shall eat when he's hungry and drink when he's dry, and 

 to his fullest capacity— so far as is consistent with the 

 safety of his l)uttons, which every man must sew on for 

 himself." 



"Agreed! agreed!" on all hands; and the speck of war 

 vanished as Horace announced supper ready at the rude 

 tahle in and along one side of the hut. 



In due time tlie hearty meal was finished, and twilight 

 deepened into darkness. We gathered before the fire, or 

 clung affectionately around the smudge, lighted our pipes, 

 and chatted and told stories until the early bed-time hour. 



Then eight tired men laid themselves down, side by side, 

 across one end of the single apartment, upon the bed of 

 fragrant boughs. 



"It's a snug fit, boys!" said the bulky Pi-ofessor, ''and if 

 dignity is to have any privileges, in this party, I should like 

 an inch or two more room." 



" We're all on a common level, here, "responded the Cap- 

 tain, "—just now, at any rate; but if you talk of privileges, 

 I'm the official personage that wants 'em." 



"I say, Benson," whispered the Neophyte, "how the 

 dickens do you fix your boots to make a comfortable pil- 

 low? Aline don't fit my head; the heel of one of them seems 

 to be sticking into my bump of philoprogenitiveness." 



"Well, you are a new camper, I should say!" said 

 Benson, as he examined the rude head rest; "you've got 



