1 64 THE BROOK BOOK 



was none." Many wild leaps were made from 

 stone to stone over rushing torrents, where a 

 borrowed fence board happened to fall short. On 

 one occasion it was the leap that fell short, and 

 a gallant rescue was the result. Certain members 

 of the party were too chivalrous to mind a few 

 steps taken in mid-stream if there seemed no 

 better way to reach the other side. Perhaps some of 

 the burdens carried across were heavier even than 

 the dinner baskets and coffee -pail;' but I never 

 heard any complaints. Sometimes it rained, but, 

 though our camp-fire burned less brightly, our 

 spirits were waterproof. What sights we saw, what 

 stories we told, what songs we sang! No chroni- 

 cler can ever recount the joys of that year. 



As I look back over those days of precious 

 memory a vague sense of sadness always comes 

 over me. Why should such days go by, such com- 

 radeship pass? New generations of college folk 

 come and the old ones scatter. It is only a few 

 years since the last famous "Gesellen" picnic, yet 

 one has gone alone to walk the paths which lead 

 beyond life's border land. Another, across dis- 

 tant seas, looks out at night on the Southern Cross 

 and comes not back to us. It is wonderful how 

 elastic are one's heartstrings. The "Walking 

 Party" was and it is not, nor can it be again save 

 in the hearts of those to whom the comradeship 

 was dear. 



