Camp and Trail | Page 8

I got a ducking instead of a deer, like some bungling fellows I know."
"Don't be saucy, Young England, or I'll go for you when I've finished eating," laughed Cyrus good-humoredly. "Who told you what we got?"
Dol winked at Uncle Eb, who had, indeed, entertained him with giggling jokes about the unsuccessful hunters while they were stripping off their wet garments.
Adolphus, being the youngest of the camping-party, was favored with the softest pine-bough bed and the best of the limited luxuries which the camp possessed, with unlimited nicknames,--from "Young England" to "Shaver" or "Chick," according to the whims of his comrades.
"Say, Uncle Eb, we're having a fine old time to-night--all sorts of experiences! I guess you may as well finish that song we interrupted while we're finishing our meal."
"All rightee, gen'lemen!" answered the jolly guide and cook.
The dog Tiger had retreated to the back of the camp-fire, where he lay blissfully snoozing; but at a booming "Whoop-ee!" from his master, which formed a prelude to the following verses, he shot up like a rocket, and manifested all his former signs of excitement.
"Dey's a big fat goose whar de turkey roos'-- Ketch him, Tiger, ketch him! En de goose--he say, 'Hit'll soon be day, En I got no feders fer ter give away!' Oh, ketch him, Tiger, ketch him!
"Ketch him, oh, ketch him, Run ter de roos' en fetch him! He ain't gwine tell On de dinner bell-- Ketch him, Tiger, ketch him!"
"Scoot 'long to bed now, you yonkers, or ye'll look like spooks to-mo-oh! Hit's day a'ready," cried the singer directly he had whooped out his last note.
And the "yonkers," nothing loath, for they had finished their repast, sprang up to obey him.
"Isn't it a comfort that we haven't any trouble of undressing and getting into our bedclothes, fellows?" Cyrus said, as they reached the wangen, and prepared to throw themselves upon the fragrant camp-bed of fresh green pine-boughs, which made the bark hut smell more healthily than a palace.
The natural mattress was wide enough to accommodate three. The boughs were laid down in rows with the under side up, and overlapped each other. To be sure, an occasional twig might poke a sleeper's ribs, but what mattered that? To the English boys especially--having the charm of entire novelty--it was a matchless bed, wholesome, restful, and rich with balsamic odors hitherto unknown.
The trio were stupidly tired; but on the American continent no happier or healthier youths could have been found.
It had, indeed, been a night big with experiences; and there was one still to come, which, to Neal Farrar at any rate, was as novel as the rest. He had thrown himself upon his bough couch, too weary to offer anything but the gladness of his heart for worship, when Cyrus touched his arm.
"Look there!" he said. "If a fellow could see that without feeling some sensations go through him which he never felt before, he wouldn't be worth much!"
He pointed through the open door of the hut at the sky above the clearing, over which was stealing a pearly hue of dawn, shot with a tinge of rosy light, like the fire in the heart of an opal.
This made a royal canopy over the towering head of Old Squaw Mountain,--near by now and plainly visible,--which had not yet lost its starry diadem, though the gems were paling one by one. The shoulders of the peak wore a mantle of purple, and the forest which clothed its bulk was changing from the blackness of a mourning robe to the emerald green of a sea-nymph's drapery.
The shutters of Night were rolling back, and young Day was stepping out to cast her first smile on a waiting earth.
As the watchers in the hut caught that smile, every thought which rose in them was a daybreak song to the God who is light, and the secret of every dawning.
With the day-smile kissing their faces they fell asleep, feeling that they were wrapped in the embrace of the invisible King.

CHAPTER IV.
WHITHER BOUND?
"Where from? Whither bound?" It is not often that a man or boy burns to put these questions--which ships signal to each other when they pass upon the ocean--to some individual who hurries by him on a crowded thoroughfare, whose name perhaps he knows, but whose hand he has never clasped, of whose thoughts, feelings, and capabilities he is ignorant.
But just let him meet that same fellow during a holiday trip to some wild sea-beach or lonely mountain, let an acquaintance spring up, let him observe the habits of the other traveller, discovering a few of his weak points and some of his good ones, and then he wishes to ask, "Where do you hail from? Whither are you bound?"
Therefore, having encountered three fairly good-looking, jovial, well-disposed young fellows amid the solitudes of a