All these are camps. And when you talk of
making camp you must know whether that process is to mean only a search
for rattlesnakes and enough acrid-smoked fuel to boil tea, or a
winter's consultation with an expert architect; whether your camp is to
be made on the principle of Omar's one-night Sultan, or whether it is
intended to accommodate the full days of an entire summer.
But to those who tread the Long Trail the making of camp resolves
itself into an algebraical formula. After a man has travelled all day
through the Northern wilderness he wants to rest, and anything that
stands between himself and his repose he must get rid of in as few
motions as is consistent with reasonable thoroughness. The end in view
is a hot meal and a comfortable dry place to sleep. The straighter he
can draw the line to those two points the happier he is.
Early in his woods experience, Dick became possessed with the desire to
do everything for himself. As this was a laudable striving for
self-sufficiency, I called a halt at about three o'clock one afternoon
in order to give him plenty of time.
Now Dick is a good, active, able-bodied boy, possessed of average
intelligence and rather more than average zeal. He even had theory of a
sort, for he had read various "Boy Campers, or the Trapper's Guide,"
"How to Camp Out," "The Science of Woodcraft," and other able works. He
certainly had ideas enough and confidence enough. I sat down on a log.
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