Oakdale Boys in Camp. Scott Morgan

Oakdale Boys in Camp - Scott Morgan


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this manner he set them all at work, and, to their credit, every fellow took hold with a will. While Springer and Grant were ripping up the small bushes by the roots, removing the loose stones and smoothing out the ground for the tent floor, Piper, red-faced and grunting, brought rocks for Stone to build the fireplace, and, that being done, aided him in constructing the cook’s table. The ring of Crane’s axe resounded through the near-by woods, and presently he appeared with a huge armful of dry sugar maple cut from a fallen tree.

      “If this ain’t as good firewood as anybody can find araound here,” he said, dropping it on the ground near the fireplace, “I’ll eat every stick of it.”

      “Where’s the axe?” questioned Grant.

      “I left her stickin’ in the log.”

      “Get it. Cut a chopping block if you can find anything suitable, and bring it along with the axe, which we’ll need when we come to drive the stakes for pitching the tent. I don’t reckon it’s a good plan to leave an axe out in the woods away from camp.”

      Two minutes later the strokes of the axe were again ringing through the woods, and in less than quarter of an hour Crane reappeared with the implement in his hand, rolling along the ground before him a chopping block, which he had cut from the small sugar maple.

      By this time the fireplace was constructed and a fire already started in it. Furthermore, the cook’s table was almost ready for use. The tent had been unpacked, shaken out and spread on the ground with the ridgepole lying in position beneath it. At each end of the tent lay the uprights, ready to be raised into position. The axe and the smaller hatchet were placed handy for use at either end of the tent, after which the tent fly was spread in its proper place, with the loops of the long guys over the front and rear pole pins. Stout stakes had been driven at both ends of the tent, and to these the guy ropes were made fast. The loops at the four corners of the tent were likewise made fast to stakes, the pins of the uprights were slipped through the ridgepole ends, and Grant announced that everything was ready for the raising.

      It is probable that the fellow who has never pitched a tent in the woods will not understand the thrill of that moment which was experienced by the young campers as, directed by Grant, they placed themselves in position to hoist away. As only four were required for this part of the work, Piper stood back and awaited orders. The others, two at each end, grasped the front and rear uprights and lifted the ridgepole, bearing the tent and fly. As soon as convenient, two of the boys slipped inside and seized the poles to assist, after which the uprights were hoisted into a vertical position. Those within remained holding them thus until the four corners were carried out and made fast to the ground pins. After this, the tent being thus temporarily secured, all went about the work of setting the guy pins and making the ropes fast to them.

      The wall pins were next driven into place and the walls roped down to them. Then the fly was lifted to a proper height and guyed off, Piper keeping busy assisting to make everything staunch and taut.

      “There she is, fellows,” said Grant proudly, stepping away and running his fingers through his damp hair, “and it sure is my opinion that for a bunch of novices we’ve made a right good job of it. She stands as square and true as anybody could ask, and I opine she’ll provide shelter as long as we want it, in any kind of weather.”

      “You bub-bet,” exulted Springer. “Don’t it look fine? It’s a dandy, fellows.”

      “The teepee is erected,” said Piper.

      “What be we goin’ to call our camp?” asked Crane.

      “Let’s call it Camp Oakdale,” suggested Stone.

      “That’s it; that’s the name,” cried the others.

      “A cheer, then, for Camp Oakdale,” proposed Grant.

      They responded right lustily.

      CHAPTER III.

      EVENING AT PLEASANT POINT

      From the cooking kit the sheet-iron stove top, having two holes with covers, was brought forth and placed over the fire, each end resting on the edges of the flat-topped rocks. In this manner the cook stove was made ready for use, and while Stone fried bacon, made coffee, opened a tin of meat and carried forward all the preparations for supper, the others unpacked and stowed away the rest of the outfit.

      The ground-cloth was smoothly spread over the levelled tent floor and made fast, after which, having decided on the positions of the beds, everything to be kept beneath the tent was brought inside and placed as conveniently as possible in the most limited space close to one of the tent walls. Of course there was some discussion over the stowing of these articles, but in the end it was Grant who decided how it should be done. 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 they might be used as “bed rails.” Before these rails could be fully prepared, however, Stone called them to supper.

      “Ay-yi!” responded Crane, instantly dropping the axe. “Yeou bet that saounds 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 I never was so nigh famished in all my life.”

      The others were no less hungry, and they lost little time in seating themselves, cross-legged, upon the ground about a box cover which Stone had brought into use as a temporary table top.

      “We can put up a regular dining table tomorrow,” said Ben; “but this will have to do tonight.” He was pouring the coffee as he spoke. “No milk, but plenty of sugar. Here’s the fried bacon, the canned meat, and toast – burned a little, perhaps – and cheese. Not much of a meal, but it will have to do for the first one in camp. Tomorrow we’ll have fresh eggs and butter and milk and – ”

      “Fish,” put in Piper; “all kinds of ’em, right out of the water. Wait till I get my fishing gear together and start out after the finny denizens 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 bacon and depositing it on a slice of the blackened toast, “I’m simply a wonder. 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 this point, and, if they should hear you and carry the news of your presence to their relatives and friends, it might produce a tremendous panic among the ‘finny denizens of this landlocked deep;’ and we don’t want to scare them all away.”

      “I don’t know much abaout fishin’,” mumbled Crane, his mouth full of food, “so I guess I’ll git yeou to give me some lessons, Sleuth.”

      “Piper,” said Stone, seating himself after pouring the coffee, “must indeed be a past master in woodcraft, hunting and fishing. He’s the only fellow who has brought a sleeping bag. I say, Sleuth, where did you get that thing?”

      “Borrowed it of Jim Bailey, who outfitted to go to the Klondike ten years ago and never went,” answered Piper. “Oh, you fellows can have your beds, but I propose to do this thing up in style; and, while you’re tossing restlessly on boughs and blankets, I’ll be snugly ensconced in my 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 the meal, their faces lighted by the soft, warm rays of the sun, that was on the verge of sinking behind the wooded range at the far side of the lake. Already the white hotel could barely be discerned, and the purplish shadows were creeping out from the base of the hills. The lake lay 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 boughs for our beds before it gets too dark. If we can only get some genuine balsam boughs, it will be right fine.”

      “There’s


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