THE LONG TRAIL 



neck of land four or five miles across the 

 bay from home. We would row there in 

 the afternoon, the boats laden with blan- 

 kets and food. Then we would make a 

 driftwood fire on which to fry our supper 

 — usually bacon and chicken. I do not 

 know whether it was the, to us, wild ro- 

 mance of our position, or the keen appe- 

 tite from the row, but never since then 

 have I eaten such bacon. Not even the 

 smallest child was allowed to show a dis- 

 position to grab, or select his pieces of 

 chicken — we were taught that that was an 

 unpardonable offense out camping, and 

 might cause the culprit to be left behind 

 next time. And woe to anyone who in 

 clumsily walking about kicked sand into 

 the frying-pan. After supper we would 

 heap more driftwood on the fire and drape 

 ourselves in our blankets. Then we would 

 stretch ourselves out in the sand while 

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