OUR CAMP. 



we were obliged to hold the wagon, from 

 upsetting, with a long rope made fast at 

 one end to the wagon and wound at the 

 other with a half-hitch around a tree. It 

 was slow work, but just as the sun dropped 

 over the Western range we arrived at camp, 

 safe and sound. We were too tired to put 

 up the tents that night, so we occupied the 

 open camp we used last fall. B. and A. 

 killed, after they left the wagon, 5 grouse 

 and 9 squirrels, and soon Fred had a royal 

 supper served, of fried grouse, and squirrel 

 stew, which we enjoyed with good relish. 

 Then, after pipes, we turned in. 



Near the campfire's flickering light, in my sleeping 

 bag I lie. 



Gazing through the shades of night, at the twink- 

 ling stars on high, — 



just 5 minutes. Then the boys say I shook 

 down all the dead timber within 40 rods of 

 the camp; but they are lovely fellows, and 

 let my 200 pounds of mortal snore and 

 sleep in peace, until a little before day- 

 light, when I was awakened by a disturb- 

 ance between 2 of my good dogs. Dick 

 persisted in crawling into my sleeping bag, 

 while Drum insisted he should not. So 

 Master Drum seized Mr. Dick by the nape 

 of the neck, and in the same mouthful in- 

 cluded 4 inches square of my new flannel 

 shirt over my left breast. Dick made a 

 desperate effort to get Drum's left hind leg 

 into his mouth, while Drum was deliber- 

 ately shaking the life out of both of us. 

 As I was the under dog in the fight, all I 

 could do was to lie still and protect my face 

 with both my hands. I have ever since 

 had a sympathetic corner in my heart for 

 the under dog in a fight. Finally Dick 

 changed ends and got both his hind feet 

 in my shirt collar. With one mighty boost 



he raised Mr. Drum and 4 inches squajre of 

 my shirt; then downed him, and soon made 

 him cry for mercy. The shirt was doomed, 

 however, from that moment, for in less 

 than 6 hours after the loss of the 4 inches 

 from the left bosom, 8 inches of the in- 

 ferior border were ruthlessly torn away by 

 the red headed disciple of the law, to pay 

 for an unavoidable miss. I got a good one, 

 5 days afterward, on the red headed dis- 

 ciple. I was standing at the mouth of 

 Laurel Run gulch, and Mr. Red Head was 

 at a crossing half a mile up the gulch, 

 Liza Ann and little Queen brought him a 

 fine 3-pronged buck. He fired 8 shots at it 

 and never touched a hair. The deer was 

 not more than 40 steps from him when 

 he fired his first 4 shots. He succeeded in 

 turning it, however, toward your uncle, 

 and I broke its neck at 80 yards, first shot. 

 We had run an average of 3 deer every 

 day for 5 days, yet only emblems of failure 

 fluttered from 4 different trees in frontof 

 our camp. As each tree represented a 

 hunter, and as there were only 4 hunters 

 in the camp, it was plain we were a sorry 

 lot. The only consoling feature was that 

 on 3 of the trees there was only evidence 

 of one miss each. On the fourth 9 frag- 

 ments of dishonor floated in the breeze, 

 and the victim complained that his last 

 shirt was ruined forever. 



From this time our luck changed. The 

 next day the bald-headed disciple of the 

 law made a clean shot and killed a splendid 

 buck, which he and I toted into camp. 



Ten days after, we broke camp, carrying 

 home with us 5 saddles of venison, 4 big 

 appetites, 4 rested and invigorated brains, 

 4 jolly, happy hearts, and all the good dogs; 

 with 3 wild turkeys and some grouse and 

 squirrels. 



