The new South-news., 1908-10-31

THE LAST NIGHT IN CAMP.
BY FRED. /. PuRDY.
.-..' . =. : /. -.....ss.s.s..st.4
ss1


Nestled among the tain trece OF "a
liver valley IN New York states vii
dornoas rs little cabin Before the
open fireplace Va tho one large livlng
room two men alt. drcamily gazing
at the leapinR log namos About
Them are scattered hunting uarapher-
malta of all kinds. from boots 10 gums.
ON the table wcli.thumbed yolumen
SHOW signs Of sudden neglect Pines
dripping ashes. strcw tho wooden
mantrl The boiling kettle dronoa
lazily. !, IS the last evening OF tho
last day Ia camp. Tomorrow back
TO the world
Charlie, the merchant. rises.
stretches. siEhs and moves to tho west
window. Iila cycs wander afar 20 the
mountains beyond the river. iit hy the
iifhtt or heaven. ln the gathering
gloom he marks the place where the
trail to the pond bends between the
mis- beyond ho measures the roach
Of the dry swamp. whore the big deer
hide. Around the lcssening horizon
he follows the outlets now until a
Joins the river with n runh and thon
he siEhs again.
= wish we could stay longorlv
There IS a plaintive note OF forrnt
IN his voice. l,calle. the odito{ hears.
hut does not nnawer. lie seeing
things In the fantastic movcJonts of
the flames.
Charlie picks np his gun. io9ks over
the sights and then slowly pii hes an
oil rag through the barrel 1'henehu
fits down aud gazos again into tho
fire
Leslie stirs and slghs Ilo. 100.
rises. and. from the north window.
peers afer 20 Hardwood Island and
Pine Ridge. with his eyes he follows
the cranberry swamp to the old lum.
hcr camp and ON beyond to Silver I
Brook and the raspberry patch.
"lts tough TO 80 back to the desk. "
he says. His voice is no more Joyous
than that of the merchant, and his
words bring no response.
Leslie lifta his mud-stained hunting
boots. cleans and greases them and
hangs them ON hook-for year
Then he drops again into the chair be-
fore the ere. The kettle sings It's
song louder ana louder. An hour
slips by-an hour tn which the long
tramps, the wading of streams aud
climbing of hills, the shots that meant
meat, aud the weary but happy far
Ing toward the open CRATE IN the even
ing were all silently reviewed and
weighed and measured, and measured
end weighed and reviewed, by the
dreamers before the Are.
Leslie turned to the man made
satchol and took from It a man-made
linen collar. tie looked at Il moro
than casually He eneirclod his
hronzed ncfk with it and shuddcred.
Did YOU ever think that there
must be a hadcss" he asked. rcncctlYe-
ly. Else there would be no here
after for the man that Invented the
stin linen collar
The merchant showed symptoms Of
,aklne notice.
The collar iiend does not deserve
the measure Of torment that has been
completely won by the inventor OF the
boiled shirt. he replied
Then they sazcd into the flre and
lost themselves IN .ought
Wen. We must pack up. | sup
pose, said the merchant at last
"NoS. We must pack up, drcamily
echoed the editor
And they continued 10 stare at the
IRE.
The moments flew by and outside
the gloom increased The mountains
across the river were no longer dis
cernihle aud the shadows in the
woods were deep aud dark BY the
flicker OF the fire the merchant sought
his razor. while he ran his tanned
fingers through his facial under
growth Finding the desired instrQ-
ment OF human torture. he-sst down
and again cared into the namcs.
The editor yawned and reaching
for the drinking cup. interrupted the
song OF the kettle by filling the cup
with hot water. lie. too was think
ing OF the moving that civilization
demands Of mans face. Then he
Fixed his eyes on the FIRE
"It's no use, said the merchant.