224 



Sierra Club Bulletin. 



Charley Tuck has stoves on which to cook, where you 

 have a tent in which to dress, and where you get fresh 

 bread instead of galetta. Your days are less strenuous 

 there. Breakfast is obtainable from six until nine, and 

 you do not have to walk abroad unless you wish. Never- 

 theless, you do not often lunch in camp, for the call 

 of the trail is strong, and the desire to be up and doing 

 leads you daily into the realm of unexplored country 

 which surrounds you. 



Dinner is quite a function. It is there, perhaps, that 

 you catch most fully the charm, the picturesqueness, and 

 the jollity of the outing. Behind the long table stand 

 eight girls dressed in the brightest and best their dunnage- 

 bags can offer — shirt-waists fresh from the river, skirts 

 a shade longer and cleaner than the well-worn regimentals, 

 and caps, aprons, and kerchiefs of gaudy bandanas. 



Each girl has charge of a kettle and a spoon, and for 

 an hour or more hungry people file past the table for a 

 second, third, even a fourth, helping, — soup, fresh meat, 

 potatoes, bread and butter, rice, tomatoes, pudding, gin- 

 gerbread, tea and coffee d la tin cow, surely a meal fit for 

 the gods. They think so anyway, these sunburned people 

 in their gay sweaters and bandanas, as, laughing and 

 joking the while, they move along the line, turn from the 

 table with filled plate to join a chosen group of diners on 

 the ground near by, busily wield fork and spoon, and 

 then patiently join the line again for a further supply. 



A lazy hour follows until the camp-fire is built and you 

 gather round its circle of red light. The entertainment 

 offered you may be grave or gay, quiet or noisy, but it is 

 never twice alike. Songs, instrumental music, impromptu 

 rhymes, original ballads, and talks on many topics relating 



