two students to spend a fortnight in the woods independent ot 

 civilization. 



This year's camp was located on a slight rise of ground and faced 

 the east, overlooking a small grass grown field surrounded by sapling 

 maples and heeches, the adjacent area having heen cut over some 

 fifteen years ago. Camp No. 7 of the Lumber Company was but a 

 short distance away, the long tin horn calling us to meals being distinctly 

 heard at least twice a day and some times in the morning. There was 

 plenty to eat; the cooks were jovial and a bite between meals was no 

 offense. We had a long oil cloth covered table to ourselves, as well 

 as a white aproned waiter to see that every dish was refilled as soon 

 as emptied. We ate at the same time as some sixty to eighty loggers 

 and seemed to work as hard as they at this particular period of the 

 day. 



Measurements on Felled Trees 



Loggers' hours were kept and it seemed queer at first to work half 

 a day and look at a watch to find it was only nine o'clock. 



Returning to our Camp late in the afternoon, there was always the 

 wood piled high for the evening bon-fire in front of the big tent just a 

 little ways from the flag pole. Then came the hour before supper with 

 a plunge in Thumb Lake or at rifle practice with Uncle Sam's targets, 

 lead and guns. 



After supper, base ball on the diamond below the hill until dusk. 

 As night settled in around our camp, it usually found us all gathered 

 about the campfire, watching the tongue-like flames leap, hearing 

 the crackling of a hemlock knot or sensing the odor of a slab 

 of birch. The day's work was gone over and discussed or 

 perhaps some college event more remote. Songs were sung, the knots 

 on the fire slumped, sending up myriads of sparks and we turned 

 to our tents to find some dark, some lighted, glad of the days in the 

 open now glad of the memories which are ours. 



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