Camp and Trail | Page 6

forest, which would lead him whither he wanted to
go.
It required considerable experience and unending watchfulness to
follow these "blazes"; but young Garst seemed to have the instinct of a
true woodsman, and went ahead unfalteringly, if vigilantly, while Neal
followed closely in his tracks.
After rather a lengthy trudge, they reached a point where the ground
sloped gently upward into a low bluff. Still keeping to the trail, they
ascended this eminence, finding the forest not so dense, and the
walking easier than it had been hitherto. Gaining the top, they emerged
upon an open patch, which had been cleared of its erect, massive pines,
and the long-hidden earth laid bare to the sky by the lumberman's axe.
Here the eagerly desired sight--that sight of all others to the tired
camper; namely, the camp itself, with its cheery, blazing
camp-fire--burst upon their view, sheltered by a group of sapling pines,
which had grown up since their giant brothers went to make timber.
Now, a Maine camp, as every one knows, may consist of any
temporary shelter you choose to name, according to the tastes and
opportunities of its occupants, from a fair white canvas home to a log
cabin or a hastily erected canopy of spruce boughs. In the present
instance it was a "wangen," or hut of strong bark, such as is sometimes
used by lumbermen to rest and sleep in when they are driving their
floats of timber down one of the rivers of this region to a distant town,
which is a centre of the lumber trade.

Cyrus and Neal were making across the clearing in the direction of the
camp-fire with revived spirits, when the American suddenly grabbed
his friend by the arm, and drew him behind a clump of low bushes.
"Hold on a minute!" he whispered. "By all that's glorious, there's Uncle
Eb singing his favorite song! It's worth hearing. You never listened to
such music in England."
"I don't suppose I ever did," answered Neal, suppressed laughter
making him shake.
Upon a gray pine stump, beside the blaze, which he was feeding with a
hemlock bough, sat a battered-looking yet lively personage. Had he
been standing upright upon the remnant of trunk, he would certainly, in
the bright but changeful firelight, have deceived an onlooker into
believing him to be a continuation of it; for the baggy tweed trousers
which he wore on his immense legs, and which partially hid his
loose-fitting brogans, or woodsman's boots, his thick, knitted jersey, his
mop of woolly hair, with the cap of coon's fur that adorned it, were a
striking mixture of grays, all bordering upon the color of the stump. His
skin, however, was a fine contrast, shining as he bent towards the flame
like the outside of a copper kettle. In daylight it would be three shades
darker, because the thick coral lips, gleaming teeth, and prominent,
friendly eyes of the individual, betrayed him to be in his own words, "a
colored gen'leman;" that is, a full-blooded negro, and a free American
citizen.
Beside him, squatting upon his haunches and wagging his shaggy tail,
was a good-sized dog, not of pure breed, but undoubtedly possessed of
fire and fidelity, as was shown by the eye he raised to his master. His
red coat and general formation showed that his father had been an Irish
setter, though he seemed to have other and fiercer blood in his veins,
mingling with that of this gentle parent.
To him the negro was chanting a war-song,--some lines by a popular
writer which he had found in an old newspaper, and had set to a curious
tune of his own composition, rendering the performance more
inspiriting by sundry wild whoops, and an occasional whacking of his

teeth together.
Here are two verses, under the influence of which the dog worked
himself up to such excitement that he seemed to feel the ghosts of
rabbits slain--for he could smell no live ones--hovering near him:--
"I raise my gun whar de rabbit run-- Ketch him, Tiger, ketch him! En
de rabbit say: 'Gimme time ter pray, Fer I ain't got long fer to stay, to
stay!' Oh, ketch him, Tiger, ketch him!
"Ketch him, oh, ketch him! Run ter de place en fetch him! De bell done
chime Fer de breakfast time-- Oh, ketch him, Tiger, ketch him!"
"If there are any more verses, Uncle Eb, keep them until we've had
supper, or breakfast, or whatever you like to call a meal at this
unearthly hour. I'm so hungry that I could chew nails!" cried Cyrus,
springing from behind the bushes, and reaching the, camp-fire with a
few strides, Neal following him.
"Sakes alive! yonkers; is dat you?" cried the darkey, uprearing his gray
figure. "I'se mighty glad to see you