THE CoMMODORE AND CREW. 293 
Our back logs at the first are more particularly for the 
chimney back to keep away the wind from the fire, and reflect 
the heat at night back upon our feet; later on, some cold, 
rainy night when they are then only well dried, they will be 
rolled in and burned, giving a royal good fire until morning. 
A clean, clear fire to cook by, or sit down to and enjoy is 
well appreciated and a saving of time. The lazy way is 
usually a huge armful of cedar branches thrown at random in 
a heap, then set off with a sheet of white birch bark, like a 
bonfire after election. 
The Indian says, ‘‘Some white man he make big fire, 
strange; first smoke kill him, then fore mornin froze to 
death,” 
while he (the Indian,) ‘‘always make littleum fire, 
lay close by, keep warm, have comfort.” 
The tea has been long enough steeping upon the coals, the 
trout are browned, yet juicy inside, the pig pork just crisp. 
Oh, not too crispy crisp, just right. The Commodore has 
placed some birch bark upon-the canoe bottom, to keep it 
from blistering, as tonight it is our table ; just the right height 
and upon which we place the pan of smoking hot trout and 
the tea pail. Beside the little lady, one upon each side, he 
has arranged the camp stools, and is now raking out his favor- 
ite hard wood coals, upon which he places the wire broiler 
filled with bread, which is wonderful quick to take a nice 
light brown. The tin pail of butter, cool from the spring, is 
already beside us (and which, by the way, is not quite as heavy 
as at our first camping) from which the toast is buttered and 
laid upon the smoking trout. 
‘Put on the cover.” 
CU Onnect. * 
*¢ Well, pard, is supper all ready?” 
