THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE 



that the smell of fire still lingers in the 

 brands. How vividly return to you the 

 anxious deliberation with which the site 

 was chosen with a view to all attainable 

 comfort and convenience, and the final 

 satisfaction that followed the establish- 

 ment of this short-lived home, short-lived 

 but yet so much a home during its exist- 

 ence. Nothing contributed so much to 

 make it one as the camp-fire. How in- 

 tently you watched its first building and 

 lighting, how labored for its maintenance 

 with awkwardly-wielded axe, how you in- 

 haled the odors of its cookery and es- 

 sayed long-planned culinary experiments 

 with extemporized implements, over its 

 beds of coals, and how you felt the con- 

 sequent exaltation of triumph or morti- 

 fication of failure. 



All these come back to you, and the 

 relighting of the fire in the sleepy dawn, 

 the strange mingling of white sunlight 

 and yellow firelight when the sun shot 

 its first level rays athwart the camp, the 

 bustle of departure for the day's sport, 

 the pleasant loneliness of camp-keeping 

 with only the silent woods, the crackling 

 fire, and your thoughts for company ; the 

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