XXVI 



RECREATION. 



THE OLD BIRCH TREE. 



C. E. GREENE. 



After the weary routine of the he i sum- 

 mer months I concluded I was too far from 

 Nature, and, taking the advice of my friends 

 Farwell and Badger, I went to Brown's 

 camp in Maine. 



Boarding a B. & M. train in Boston, at 



9 a. m., I breakfasted the next morning in 

 Banger, and at 7.30 left for Katahdin Iron 

 Works, which we reached 50 minutes late. 

 As we started late, and the conductor had 

 stopped the train once to shoot at a fox, and 

 once to recover a passenger's hat, which 

 had been blown off, I thought we did mighty 

 well. 



By jumper from Katahdin we proceeded 



10 ihe Mecca of cur journey, a cabin in a 

 small clearing which nestles at the foot of 

 Chainback mountain, beside Pleasant river. 



In the edge of the clearing stands a ven- 

 erable birch tree, which towers slim and 

 tall above its forest companions, its trunk 

 lichen covered, its branches lightning shiv- 

 ered, but still erect and dominant, a con- 

 spicuous landmark for the weary hunter in 

 hi: quest for camp. Seated on a pine box 

 before the cabin, I gazed on the varying 

 tints of the forest just changing for the au- 

 tumn, drew in deep breaths of balsam laden 

 air, and realized that I, too, was a part of 

 Nature's household, albeit but a poor 

 relation. 



The country, with its solitude, is no place 

 for secrets. The valleys whisper to the 

 hills, the hills murmur to the mountains, the 

 mountains repeat it to the sea. The earth is 

 tumultuous with voices. What hunter but 

 knows them ? As I squat on one foot at 

 the root of some forest giant, comes to me 

 the querulous challenge of a red squirrel 

 that resents my presence in his domain. His 

 remarks may be a warning to his mate, or 

 they may be reflections on my ancestry, but 

 they advertise my presence to every deni- 

 zen of the woods. 



Above my head a noisy woodpecker ham- 

 mers busily, pretending to look for a worm, 

 but constantly keeping his weather eye on 

 me. It is the drum beat of warning to the 

 inhabitants of the wilderness. A blue jay, 

 too, detects my presence, and instantly his 

 raucous cry fills a cubic mile of space with 

 the notice that a devil is in the woods with 

 a gun. To follow him is idle. He is always 

 beyond range, and the farther I follow the 

 farther he spreads his abominable tidings. 

 Presently the squirrel, emboldened by my 

 peaceful manner, comes down to the ground 

 and daringly ventures close to me. Sitting 

 erect, intently watching me, he emits from 

 time to time his saucy bark, accompanying 

 each ejaculation with a jerk of his tail. I 

 don't known what the tail has to do with 

 the barks, but the 2 are simultaneous. I 

 move, and the little rascal rushes madly for 

 his tree, kicking up a cyclone of dry leaves 

 in his flight. 



From hrgb overhead, among the floating 

 clouds, comes the shrill cry of a hawk, cir- 



cling there, with keen eye scanning the 

 earth for his prey. 



All day I had hunted and hoped for 

 grouse. I had abandoned hope, and started 

 for some other nook. Whir-r-r ! buz-z-z, 

 came a sound that froze my blood and 

 blurred my eyes. A grouse, sure, but I for- 

 got that I had a gun. Marking where he 

 alighted, I cocked my gun and started after 

 him. With ready weapon and finger on 

 trigger I tramped over and over the ground 

 where he should have been, then concluded 

 I had been mistaken and let the hammers 

 down. Almost from beneath my very feet 

 burst on the air that frightened roar again. 

 And again I forgot to shoot. 



With the slanting sun admonishing me to 

 turn toward camp, I set out. My judgment 

 dictated one direction ; my compass said the 

 opposite,' and with Farwell's instructions 

 borne on my mind I followed the compass, 

 sure that it was guiding me farther and far- 

 ther away from camp. 



The chair, with its colossal seat and 

 mighty back, stood plainly in sight, but 

 while my compass placed it in the South- 

 east, I was sure it was in the North. Nearly 

 opposite the chair, I knew, was the camp, 

 but I could mark out no familiar object. I 

 walked over an hour, as fast as I could, in 

 one direction, through briar patches and 

 tangled thickets, till my trousers looked like 

 the frazzle of forlorn hope. I fell in jump- 

 ing across a stream, jammed enough mud 

 into the muzzle of my gun to build a chim- 

 ney, and at last concluded to turn down the 

 compass and trust to my own judgment. 

 As I struck out on that tack I heard the 

 harsh, shrill cry of a bobcat. He doubtless 

 had taken alarm at my presence in his 

 haunts. It grew dark, and the shivers crept 

 up my back as I realized that I was lost. 

 As another curdling shriek shattered the 

 night air, I turned and beheld the sentinel 

 birch ! In a few minutes I was standing 

 beside my cabin door. 



Rest, supper, the pipe, and slumber. 



V 



It has often been shown that the school- 

 master is needed among British officers. 

 Some queer, quaint efforts at composition 

 have been made in brigade orders. A cer- 

 tain major ordained not long ago that: 

 "Reveille will be at 3.30 a. m. The bri- 

 gade will parade at 4.00 a. m. The bri- 

 gade will move at 4.15 a. m. The sun 

 will rise a f 5 a. m." 



During the guerilla war of iqoi-^, 

 after building the blockhouses, it became 

 necessary to check the habit of the men 

 of sleeping outside the blockhouses for 

 the sake of coolness and comfort. A staff 

 officer thereupon issued the following 

 order: "No one is permitted to sleep 

 outside the blockhouses except the sen- 

 tries/' 



Thirdly, though the intention of this 

 order is clear, its phraseology is not: 

 "Men on outpost duty are forbidden to 

 strike matches on the sky line." — Argo- 

 naut. 



