74 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



ing, snapping and squirming as only such a rep- 

 tile can do. Here was a reward for patience 

 meat fresh for broth delicious when properly 

 made broth fit for the palate of a king. Fish 

 I had for supper, fish enough for breakfast and 

 turtle for broth for dinner. The world had 

 yielded unto me a living for a day. 



Back to camp I started, my way bringing up 

 scores of memories of old. Back past the old 

 "swimming hole" where I added another sun- 

 fish unto my catch. Here in the old days I had 

 bathed for hours. Here I had caught bass and 

 seined suckers. Here I had dreamed dreams 

 of a future that never came to be. 



All is not joy in camp life. On reaching my 

 tent I found that I had had a visit from the 

 cows. The ropes which I had stretched to keep 

 them out had been broken and in part chewed. 

 The face towel and dish rag which had been left 

 hanging out had disappeared and presumably- 

 had become a part of a bovine 's lunch. Had 

 my front door not been securely hooked many 

 of my other possessions would probably have 

 disappeared down the same red lane. 



While cooking my fish I heard a noise and 

 looking around saw that the oldest and most 

 scrawny of the varmints had returned and was 

 half way in my tent. What I said to her it 

 matters not, but she backed out and was away 

 in a hurry. After supper the old farmer came 



