The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-09-29

right" gets so mixed up that it looks like
1.-The rightfulness of SHINING and the wrong
fulness of right"
There seems to be a moral in ga Camp
ing Out Story" though it is story that
really happened not so very far away from
here, and the moral just happened with
the story. Determination is virtue, and
obstinacy is a vice. 1t is not always so
easy TO draw the line between the two
either. But perhaps it is always safe to be
determined if We are quite sure the ground
We are standing on and starting from is the
right ground-true and firm.
-.ZkzSamping-Ou Story.
Boys, 1 tell you this is the way back to
that campn'
Everybody laughed at Walters vehem-
ence, because everybody knew that Walter
was wrong. Ridicule didn't soothe the
boys already ruffied temper, and, turning
upon his heel, Walter strobe away in what
he believed to be the direction of the camp.
His companions called after the boy,
advising him good-naturedly not to make
a fool of himself, and warning him that he
would be late to supper if he walked over
to Arizona first.
Walter deigned no reply and walked over
the cattle trail he had chosen to follow.
Five hundred people were camped in one
of the noble seQuoia forests OF the Sierra
Nevada.
They were refugees from the heat of the
valley, and merrymakers every one.
Rough log cabins and white-waIled tents
were their homes, and these were gay with
flags and spoils of the woods.
When the morning broke and every man,
woman and child in all the camp knew
that Walter had not returned there was
general CONSERVATION.
The boy was everybody's friend, in spite
of the independence which sometimes be-
came obstinacy. He had no relatives in
the camp, but in spite of the boys self
reliance there were those who felt respon-
sible for his safe return to the valley.
Search parties were hastily organized,
and soon the men were abroad among the
hills, some on horseback, some on foot.
The women, too, elm bed to the hilltops
nearer bv, and even the little children
helped each other to climb upon the rocks,
where they waved their wee hands and
called: walter! Walter! Come home!
Come home!"
1t was Tuesday evening when Walter
turned his back upon the camp.
In the early morning hours he suffered
with cold, and thought the night alone in
the woods would not have been so very
dreadful if he had only worn a coat. Hun
ger made him more sensitive to the cold
but Walter knew that but one cartridge re-
manned in his gun, and his cartridge-be belt
was empty.
He did not dare fire at the ground SOUR
rels that crossed his path frequently.
Even if he did not miss, how could be
cook the game?
The boy had not even a match to light a
fire, and his knife had been loaned the day
before.
When the sun was higher in the heavens
Walter refreshed himself by drinking and
by bathing his feet at a spring of cool
water.
His craving for food seemed almost IN
endurable, and his feet were already
swollen and painful.
Climbing to the top of a hill, his heart
would beat high with the hope of seeing
q sign of life, some cattlemen's camp or
hunters cabin on the farther slope. And
so with alternating hours of hope and dis
appointment the day wore away.
When darkness came again Walter lay
prone upon the ground, face downward
feeling himself a mere speck of quiverlng,
suffering humanity among the cold, silent
eternal hills.
The loneliness the boy felt was keener
than the pangs of hunger, more chilling
than the night breeze.
So weary was he that with all his misery
Walter slept-how long he never knew.
1t was death-like sleep, dreamless, hope
less.
A hot breath awakened the sleeper; q
heavy body pressed against his. Selling
his gun Walter sprang up and few, with q
wild cry that must have frightened bruin,
since he seemed not to follow.
A deer came down to drink. He looked
at Walter with unfrightened eyes and the
boys heart sank at the thought that he
had wandered into the mountains fast
nesses, even beyond the track Of the
hunters.
The deer watched his visitor long and
his presence was such sweet company for
lonely Walter that he was silent too, like
the still creature of the woods. "If only
he would come close and let me stroke his
face! If only he could speak to me and
let me tell him / am lostp'
AT nightfall Walter found a hunter S
cabin, beautiful as heaven to him when he
saw it on the hillside, and hoped that
friends were there-a mockery when il
proved to be deserted and as lonely as the
gulches where rattlesnakes Kissed.
Saturdays sun went down on the little
town in the San Joaquin Valley, and still
no hurrying horseman had come to say
that the bankers son was safe. Kind
hands led the anxious father from his
lonely vigil at the street corner. Scarcely
a word had he spoken all that day, but mis-
strained lips parted then to say, "1f my
boys mother were alive this would kill
her"
The old man watched no more for a
message, but horseback party was sent
out to learn the truth, and with orders to
find the boy, alive or dead, if every man in
the county had to be called upon to join
the search.
Just as the hands at Colton's sawmill
were setting down to breakfast Sunday
morning Walter James staggered in at the
doorway and fell on the floor in dead
faint.
1t didn't take long to revive him, and it is
said that he found the mems breakfast OF
bacon, coffee and hot biscuits quite to the
kings taste.