" Why had^he left Crosby the day 

 before?" Why he did not mind 

 telling, not a bit, not he. He 

 was not needed anyhow, so he 

 thought he would slip back and 

 take his girl to a dance. If he 

 wanted to do that and travel the 

 rest of the night, he guessed that 

 was his affair (thrice clever Creche, 

 the actual truth). 



The story seemed plausible, in 

 any event what could Bobbie do 

 now? It was past, and we had the 

 satisfying present. How good it 

 was, that dinner under the trees! 



A camp-fire blazed a hundred feet 

 from the cook-fire, with a folding table 

 and camp chairs placed for dinner 

 between them. Oh the joy, the sweet 

 peace of the camper's life! No prob- 

 lems come to vex him save the hour 

 for dinner. There is no world but 

 that of the bone and the muscle. 

 Kings may die, nations rise and 

 crumble, lives come in and go out; 

 it matters not. The rumble of the 

 straining world sounds not for him. 

 The iron horse comes not, nor does 

 that modern Ariel, the Marconigraph, 

 seek speech with him. 



