CHAPTER III.
EVENING AT PLEASANT POINT.
From the cooking kit the sheet-iron stove top, having two holes withcovers, was brought forth and placed over the fire, each end resting onthe edges of the flat-topped rocks. In this manner the cook stove wasmade ready for use, and while Stone fried bacon, made coffee, opened atin of meat and carried forward all the preparations for supper, theothers unpacked and stowed away the rest of the outfit.
The ground-cloth was smoothly spread over the levelled tent floor andmade fast, after which, having decided on the positions of the beds,everything to be kept beneath the tent was brought inside and placed asconveniently as possible in the most limited space close to one of thetent walls. Of course there was some discussion over the stowing ofthese articles, but in the end it was Grant who decided how it should bedone. And it was the Texan who selected two tall, straight young trees,each about six inches in diameter, standing some distance from the tent,and instructed Crane to cut them down and trim them smoothly, that theymight be used as “bed rails.” Before these rails could be fullyprepared, however, Stone called them to supper.
“Ay-yi!” responded Crane, instantly dropping the axe. “Yeou bet thatsaounds good ter me. I’ve ketched a few whiffs of that sizzling bacon,and it’s made me so ravenous I could eat an old bootleg. Seems to me Inever was so nigh famished in all my life.”
The others were no less hungry, and they lost little time in seatingthemselves, cross-legged, upon the ground about a box cover which Stonehad brought into use as a temporary table top.
“We can put up a regular dining table tomorrow,” said Ben; “but thiswill have to do tonight.” He was pouring the coffee as he spoke. “Nomilk, but plenty of sugar. Here’s the fried bacon, the canned meat, andtoast—burned a little, perhaps—and cheese. Not much of a meal, but itwill have to do for the first one in camp. Tomorrow we’ll have fresheggs and butter and milk and——”
“Fish,” put in Piper; “all kinds of ’em, right out of the water. Waittill I get my fishing gear together and start out after the finnydenizens of this landlocked deep.”
“I’ll bet you’re a great fuf-fuf-fisherman, Sleuth,” grinned Springer,winking slyly at Grant. “You know all about it, don’t you?”
“As a general all-round Nimrod,” replied Piper, forking a piece of baconand depositing it on a slice of the blackened toast, “I’m simply awonder. The fish don’t have a ghost of a chance when I get after them.”
“Hush!” cautioned Grant. “Speak low. There may be some fish near thispoint, and, if they should hear you and carry the news of your presenceto their relatives and friends, it might produce a tremendous panicamong the ‘finny denizens of this landlocked deep;’ and we don’t want toscare them all away.”
“I don’t know much abaout fishin’,” mumbled Crane, his mouth full offood, “so I guess I’ll git yeou to give me some lessons, Sleuth.”
“Piper,” said Stone, seating himself after pouring the coffee, “mustindeed be a past master in woodcraft, hunting and fishing. He’s the onlyfellow who has brought a sleeping bag. I say, Sleuth, where did you getthat thing?”
“Borrowed it of Jim Bailey, who outfitted to go to the Klondike tenyears ago and never went,” answered Piper. “Oh, you fellows can haveyour beds, but I propose to do this thing up in style; and, while you’retossing restlessly on boughs and blankets, I’ll be snugly ensconced inmy cozy sleeping bag. They are great things when you’re camping out;Bailey said so.”
Chattering and bantering in this manner, the boys thoroughly enjoyed themeal, their faces lighted by the soft, warm rays of the sun, that was onthe verge of sinking behind the wooded range at the far side of thelake. Already the white hotel could barely be discerned, and thepurplish shadows were creeping out from the base of the hills. The lakelay like a mirror, with no breath of air rippling its glassy surface.The peace of evening in the solitudes was closing in.
“Let’s hustle up a bit, fellows,” urged Grant. “We must cut some boughsfor our beds before it gets too dark. If we can only get some genuinebalsam boughs, it will be right fine.”
“There’s some balsam trees back beyond where I cut the firewood,”announced Crane; “but now that I’ve et I feel so lazy I don’t care muchabaout cuttin’ boughs. What’s the use to trouble aourselves tonight;we’ve got blankets to roll up in.”
“The blankets are all right,” returned Rodney; “but anyone who tries tosleep in them with no boughs beneath him is sure going to find ituncomfortable before morning. The ground itself gets mighty hard, as Iknow from experience, and a chap who has been working and perspiringwill feel plenty cold before morning comes, no matter how warm and easyhe is when he first rolls in. I propose to have some boughs under me.”
“With my sleeping bag,” said Sleuth, “I need nothing of the sort.”
“Then,” said Rod, “you can gather up the dishes and wash them while therest of us are cutting boughs. Everyone must do something.”
Dish washing being especially abhorrent to him, Piper groaned andgrumbled, although he did not refuse to perform the task to which he hadbeen assigned. The others, provided with the axe, hatchet and strongknives, set forth, Grant leading the way, in search of the necessaryboughs. Not far from the tent, in a little open spot, Sile paused amoment to kick off the top of an ants’ nest and watch the franticcreatures which were exposed to view in that manner.
“To-morrer,” he said, “if we’ve got it to spare, I’ll turn some keroseneover this ’ere colony, and that’ll fix ’em. We don’t want any of themthings crawling into the tent to nip us at night. I tell yeou they canbite some.”
“They must be almost as dangerous as Carl’s ‘gouger,’” laughed Rodney;“but we can’t fool with them now.”
Crane had really located some trees of balsam fir, and, with the shadowsdeepening, they made haste to cut several huge armfuls, which theycarried back and piled in front of the tent. This accomplished, the bedrails were cut off at the proper length and smoothly trimmed of branchesand knots, after which they were placed lengthwise in the tent, onebeing rolled up close against the wall, while the other, each endprotruding from beneath the canvas so that it could be pinned fast tothe ground, was laid parallel about four feet away. The space betweenthose logs was then filled with the boughs, all carefully spread out,the softest tips being reserved for the top. It was necessary to lightthe lantern that they might see to spread the blankets, but finally thebeds were arranged to their entire satisfaction.
Sleuth, having finished his task with the dishes, removed the stove topand replenished the fire, reclined in the light of the blaze and with asuperior air watched his laboring comrades, secure in the belief thathis sleeping bag would provide luxury and comfort denied the others.
Grant had brought along a guitar, an instrument presented to him by acowboy on his father’s ranch, and this he now produced and put in tune,seated on the chopping block near the fire. The rest found comfortablepositions near at hand, and, having strummed a while, Rod struck into“The Spanish Cavalier.” He had a clear, melodious voice, and he carriedthe air, the others joining, with the exception of Piper, who could notsing a note to save his life.
“The Spanish cavalier stood in his retreat, And on his guitar played a tune, dear; The music so sweet he oft would repeat—— The blessings of my country and you, dear. Oh, say, darling, say, when I’m far away, Sometimes you may think of me, dear; The bright sunny day will soon fade away, Remember what I say and be true, dear.”
The hushed and breathless trees seemed to be listening. The melody ofthe song floated far over the shrouded bosom of the lake, beyond whichthe light of the hotel gleamed at the foot of the cliff, on the highestcrest of which a great white cross had been planted. The wavingfirelight flooded over the boys, seated or half reclining upon theground, with the tent standing out snowy white against the blackbackground of the forest. There was no moon, and overhead a few va
porystars peered through the haze which had spread across the sky. At timesthe fire, rising, flung a gilded gleam out upon the placid water offPleasant Point.
The glamor and poetry of the time and place was distinctly felt by allthose boys. It was a splendid thing to be alive and to be there, alittle band of congenial friends and comrades granted theever-to-be-remembered delights of this midsummer outing in the best daysof enthusiastic, unsatiated, golden youth. In years to come, when thehard, cutting edges of life’s experiences and cares had rasped awaytheir fervor and left them, perhaps, incapable of deep enjoyment ofsimple things, they would sometimes recall this outing with the mingledthrills of regret and pleasure which memory so often yields.
They sang other old-fashioned songs: “Swanee River,” “Aunt Dinah’sQuilting Party,” “Bring Back My Bonny to Me;” and then, alone, strummingthe accompaniment on the guitar, Grant rendered that doleful pastoral ofthe plains, “The Cowboy’s Lament.”
The mood for singing passed, and they were silent, even the Texan,having put aside his instrument, leaned his elbows on his knees andpropped his chin with his hands to stare moodily into the sinking fire.As the unreplenished flames died down, the shadows crept nearer and thetent seemed to beckon to the embrace of its shelter.
Finally Piper shook himself, sat up, stretched his arms above his headand yawned.
“Me to the sleeping bag,” he said. “I’m going to turn in.”