FOREST AND STREAM 
305 
Ad vice To Campers 
What to Take to Camp—Camp Hunts, Camp Cooking---The Camp Range, The Camp “Growler.” 
By One of Forest and Stream’s Oldest Contributors, Dick Swiveller, Who Has Taken Up His Pen Once More in Interest of the Younger Generation. 
There are many things to be taken into con¬ 
sideration by people who have not had experience 
in camping and camp life. The novice will 
naturally include in camp equipment articles not 
really necessary and over-look those that are im¬ 
portant. Some one has said “Do not take any¬ 
thing in camp that is not absolutely imperative.” 
The writer has camped for a couple of weeks 
or more, mooring from place to place, with only 
a tin cup, a stout canvas haversack, a large 
knife, one of those that can be carried in the 
pocket, all meat cooking being done on a forked 
stick held over the live coals. When one has 
to rough it, well and good; but at all times be 
as comfortable as conditions will admit. All 
through life we aim to be comfortable and at 
ease. A bad disposition and ill nature will ruin 
happiness and cast a shadow on bright surround¬ 
ings. Cheerfulness is the prime factor to human 
happiness and well being. In my experience 
there is no walk in life, when cheerfulness and 
contentment should rule as in oamp. Let each 
member of the party aim to take things and 
events generally as they come, each one doing 
his share of the work. A little growling is per¬ 
missible; old campers indulge in it, it sort of 
preserves the balance at times. There is, how¬ 
ever, no place in camp for the chronic kicker, he 
makes himself, and others, miserable. Usually 
he is a tenderfoot and needs camp experience 
to teach him to face camp situations philosophi¬ 
cally and if experience will not bring this about 
he had best not try camp life. 
I am reminded of an amusing camp experi¬ 
ence. A number of years ago (never mind how 
many) a party of gentlemen, old hands in the 
woods and camps, left civilization and estab¬ 
lished a camp in the forest, the game sought 
principally being deer, ruffed grouse being added 
to the larder at any time. It was laughingly 
agreed, when the arrangements were about com¬ 
pleted for the start, that if any member of the 
party should find fault about any thing, or 
growl audibly, no matter how trifling the cause, 
the penalty would be an extra day in camp, 
cooking all the meals and caring for the camp 
generally—no easy punishment in a country 
where game was fairly plentiful. Two weeks 
or more passed and all the party, but one, had 
performed the “extra duty” from time to time. 
The one individual referred to had been exem¬ 
plary, not a word of complaint had he uttered; 
nothing that could be construed as a smallest 
possible growl. We knew he was watching him¬ 
self carefully. Rain or shine, hard work, long 
tramps, disappointments, all found his pleasant 
smile and good-nature unruffled by mundane 
affairs. The fear of a lonely day in camp, and 
the pride of having proved himself superior to 
the petty vexations of camp life, spurred him to 
relax not his vigilance and to bridle his tongue; 
and many times to “say nothing.” He would 
just smile and think of the joke he was play¬ 
ing on the rest of the party, and remark: “ Boys 
I never had so good a time.” - All this was too 
much for his companions. They felt aggrieved 
and realized the necessity of causing him to be 
sentenced to an extra day’s camp cooking (and 
here let me say he was a good cook.) 
A dark plot was laid which we hoped would 
force our good natured friend to commit him¬ 
self. Mr. R could make excellent dried peach 
turn-overs of which Mr. H was very fond, and 
would occasionally remark: “Say R aren’t you 
going to make a dozen or so turn-overs soon?” 
Later on when eating the really good pastry for 
camp cooking, he would remark: “This is living,” 
and smile from his old felt hat to his well worn 
moccasins. 
The plot then thickened, only five or six days 
more before we would leave for home. Mr. R had 
remained in camp to cook and guard the out¬ 
fit, the others were off hunting. He made up a 
dozen or so turn-overs, one was specially prepar¬ 
ed With an abundance of salt and quinine. This 
special turn-over was laid invitingly near Mr. 
H’s tin plate, in hopes he would pick it up and 
bite off a mouthful and, in his disappointment 
overcome by the dose, “say something that 
would adjudge him guilty.” 
The tired hunters returned an hour or so by 
the sun. H came in last and remarked “Boys 
I have killed a good sized buck; we will have to 
get him in the first thing in the morning, I 
felt too tired to bring in any part of him. I am 
just tired out, tramped ten miles to-day and 
traveled half a mile to get that shot.” “Half 
mile,” said R. “Say old man take off four-fifths 
of that; get your toilet made, pull up and 
sample these turn-overs.” H glanced at the well 
ordered camp table and the brown tempting 
pastry and in a second was ready. 
All sat down. H poured out a cup of coffee, 
put in the sugar, whirled the tin spoon round 
and round and imbibed a long and invigorating 
draught. Setting the cup down he took up the 
turn-over and bit square into the center, and 
worked his jaws once. His face grew red, then 
almost white, he choked and spluttered, tears 
came to his eyes in his efforts to expel the dis¬ 
agreeable mouthful. An honest anger gleamed 
from his brown eyes, his clinched fist came down 
on the rough camp table with a force that al¬ 
most caused the displacement of the tin ware. 
The company stood innocent, silent, aghast. 
“By—by—the er er my great grand marms 
ghost; That—”(a long pause in which he 
glared at the audience with mingled feelings of 
anger and some alarm. Then thought, thought). 
“This is the finest turn-over; the spiciest, R—, 
you ever made—and please excuse my commo- 
A Regular Camp Story—Guess What He Said? 
