Camping Part 2

But of all the villains, the boy who wants a swim is the worst. He will do you the honor to ask for it, and is perfectly happy if you grant permission. He is evidently descended from some one of the original fishes who went into Noah's Ark. His nature craves water.

Long living on sh.o.r.e has rid his skin of any scaly look, but the fish blood is there just the same. He can dive to the bottom of the pool and stay there looking up at you with gla.s.sy eyes, for all the world like a sulky trout. When he leaps in the water you are reminded of a porpoise splas.h.i.+ng through the foam at the vessel's bow. Again cutting through the water, half-submerged, how like a shark chasing its prey, this may consist of some harmless old female, who is gently ambling along. The first thing she knows some monster of the deep has grabbed her by the leg and is dragging her under water. She shrieks as in her struggles she fancies some dread sea monster is taking her to its lair. With almost superhuman effort she breaks loose, when the monster arises to laugh at her fright. It is the born swimmer, the descendant of prehistoric fishes, and the worst punishment you can give him is to keep him out of the water.

So much for the boatman and swimmer. By supper time most of the boys have laid the foundation for an elegant coat of tan, some will be badly sunburnt by to-morrow, for Old Sol dearly loves to scorch the tender skin of the city youth. It is useless to warn them about stripping all their clothes off too soon. How are they going to get a good coat of tan on by the end of the season if they don't begin right away? The only thing to do is to put plenty of oil on, and if "pain still treads on the heels of pleasure" they will learn the wisdom of making haste slowly.

We have a delightful supper. All of the boys do ample justice to it.

Afterwards they lounge around for a short period, when again the bugle blows "Quarters."

Getting undressed in a tent with three other boys is lots of fun. There is no clothes closet to hang your clothes in, just a line made of rope or wire stretched across that serves as a clothes horse. The night is cool, and both front and back flaps of the tent are wide open to the breezes. Just half an hour is allowed to prepare for bed. Then the bugler sounds "Taps," the most beautiful call of all. Lights go out and silence reigns. Here and there laughter may be heard, but the majority of the boys are so tired that their heads have hardly touched the pillows before they are asleep, after one of the longest and happiest days of their lives.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER V.

Routine.

Bright and early the next morning the bugler sounds reveille. Every one jumps out of bed, although a few have already been up since daylight, so eager are they to be real Campers.

As soon as every one is out of bed the setting up exercises take place.

For fifteen minutes the boys, under the leaders.h.i.+p of the instructors, go through a course of calisthenics, after which they go down to the water for a scrub and plunge, brush their teeth and get their clothes on. By that time the bugle calls to them to get into line, ready to march to the table for breakfast.

All who are not on line-in will find themselves marching round the Campus, which is a block square, several times. Good exercise for them, at the same time teaching them the truth about "Time and tide waiting for no man."

Another good meal awaits us, plenty of good, substantial food, that will put strength into us and at the same time tickle our palate.

After breakfast we find that it is not all play at Camp. Some are inclined to loaf; some would like to wander around; others, with some definite object in view, plan to go out for practice runs or games. But, hold on, n.o.ble youths, you have slept in your beds, have you not? Well, like Mr. Squeers' method, we will ask you to spell "bed," then go and make it up. Also you have upset your tents. Again, you are given gracious permission to tidy them also.

Here we have no willing mothers, no handy chambermaids, to put everything in apple-pie order. This is truly Camp, and you are simply soldiers Camping.

The Director may have an orderly to do his work, but, as for the rest of the Campers, it is every man for himself, from the instructors down to the smallest boy. Each and every one must do his share. Beds are made, tents swept out, clothes hung up, and when the bugle again calls "Inspection" each and every boy must be at his tent.

The Director, accompanied by his staff, inspects, marking for and against each tent. Accordingly, there is keen compet.i.tion between the boys to see who has the most orderly tent for the season. Prizes are awarded to the tent that has the best record. All this conduces to neat habits, and lets the boys see there is more to be gained by doing the right than the wrong thing.

Again the bugle calls for "a.s.sembly." This is one of the most interesting events of the day. Here we can all sit under the shade of beautiful trees and listen to the orders being given out; the schedule of the games to be played; the list of those to be punished for breaking the rules, etc., etc. On this occasion the bad boy, knowing full well that he has been marked for punishment and is going to get it anyway, does a little more to amuse his friends while he annoys those in office.

As soon as the orders are given the boys are dismissed, some to go on the field for a game of tennis, others for baseball, others for walking trips. For the little boys there is tether ball and the junior baseball diamond. In fact, whatever is for the big boys is good for his little brothers, excepting football.

In the midst of the fun we hear the bugle again. That is the swimming call; so hurry with your bats, tennis rackets and any other thing you may be doing at this particular moment. Get your swimming trunks and rush down to the dock.

Now for fun. Those who can swim, how gracefully they dive in, swim under water, and just when your heart is in your mouth for fear they are drowned up they come in the opposite direction.

The boys who are not very good swimmers make up for skill by lots of splas.h.i.+ng about in the shallow water. They duck each other, try to float, and act for all the world like a school of young porpoises. I myself like to go out with them. They take me for a friendly old mother whale and climb all over me, never so happy as when they get me down under the water. Then sometimes I take a large, roomy boat, invite them in and pole them around the lake to their enjoyment and my own, too.

But this chapter tells of routine, so we must obey the whistle when it blows. That means all out, and any one caught in after that is kept out for two or three times--about the worst kind of punishment you could give a boy.

Fortunately, the boys have very little dressing to do, a pair of running pants and a pair of sneakers being considered full dress. Long before the bugle tells them to form in line they are ready and hungry.

This ends the morning. We have been warned to write home to parents, but the study period after dinner is the time appointed for that. After a bountiful dinner we see them prepared to write. The big boy will write willingly to some of his folks and loves to write to the girls. He does not have to be reminded that Wednesday and Sunday are letter writing days. The middle sized chap needs a little urging, but the little bear is the one who forgets. He may be so homesick that you dare hardly speak to him on that subject, yet he has to be forced to write regularly.

There are exceptions, of course. Take little Jimsey, for instance, whom I found crying. The minute I looked at him I knew right away what kind of malady he was afflicted with. Says I to him: "Jimsey, old boy, have you written home to your family yet?" "No," he answered, "I don't know how to spell all the words right. You see, I have never been away from home before and never had to write letters to my mother." "Oh, if that's all that ails you, I am the boss letter writer. So, come along with me, young man, and you can dictate and I will write." "Can I do that?" he wanted to know. "Of course you can. The Director will say it is all right." And this is what Jimsey wrote to his mother, at least he dictated and I wrote it:

"Dear Mother, Darling:

"We are here, and I am happy, but so homesick to see you. Do you feel homesick to see me? Let me know. I never thought the world was such a big, lonely place.

Is it because you are not with me to hold my hand? I am going to be brave and bite my under lip, and as Biddy says 'Keep a stiff upper lip.' She says half the real truly battles in life have been won by folks keeping up their courage. I don't want to come home, but, mother, if you are pa.s.sing this way, won't you stop in for a little while?"

"By that time I shall be cured of this complaint.

Biddy says its called himevay. It makes you feel weepy all the time, and when night comes and the lights are out that is the time you feel it the worst. Mother, dear, don't pet little brother too much, because he will miss it like I do when he comes to Camp. I know he is only a little boy now, but if you had stopped petting me when I was three months old I should have got used to it by now and not miss you so much.

"If I was not so lonely I could tell you about this lovely place, but I have such a lot to tell you of how I feel. Biddy says I might just as well make this a purely personal letter and get the whole thing out of my system. That, she said, would leave me the rest of the season to describe the other things.

"When the lights are out and from my cot bed I look out of the tent I can see the sky. The moon is way up high, and lots of little stars are s.h.i.+ning. Is it the same moon you can see from your window? I hope it is, because you can wish to see me when you look up and I will wish to see you. Then there are so many funny noises. The water seems to be creeping up the sh.o.r.e a little way, then falls back again. What makes it do that, mother? Then some little baby birds keep calling for their mother bird, 'Peep, peep, peep,' just like that. Are they cold, do you think, or are they afraid of falling out of the tree?

"Then all sorts of funny little insects keep flying through the tents. Two or three have little lights in their stomachs, because I saw them. They came and crawled over my netting and the light went out, then in again. Wouldn't it be lovely if we could light our own way like that?

"Give father a great, big hug and tell him his big boy is trying to be a man. Kiss little brother for me, and don't hold his hand any more or he will get so used to it. Biddy says if I want to sleep in her room I can, and then I won't be alone. Well, I will try it in the tent to-night, because if you are going to keep a brave front you have got to do it now. Good-bye, mother, darling. I kiss your photo every night. Write soon to your lonely little boy, JIMSEY."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VI.

Afternoon Sports.

After the study period is over the teams go up to the baseball field for a few games. What exciting times they do have! The boys are divided, and for the sake of sport given colors. So instead of New York and Chicago it is the Red and the Blue.

Thus early in the season they are only friendly games. It is only later in the season, when the trophy and cups are to be fought for, that they play with all their heart and soul.

Now it is fun, fast and furious, to see which side is the strongest.

Those who are not playing sit around, cheering or jeering as the case may be. It is all good, healthy sport, and again when the bugle blows for swimming they are ready.

What a rush for towels. The water is a little cooler this afternoon than this morning, but when one has exercised so vigorously it seems just right.

Courage comes to the timid. They strike out into deeper water, find that it is friendly to them, and begin to do fancy strokes.

The good swimmers have started a race with other experts. They mean to swim to the island opposite without any stopover, and are watched by an admiring crowd of youngsters.

Care is taken that no boy goes beyond his depth unless he is a good swimmer. Instructors, in boats, constantly patrol the course, watching every move the boys make.

Well do I remember a funny incident that happened to a visitor last summer. He was a grown man, who said he had been swimming in the Bay of Fundy. As a starter he went in where the little shavers go, and, mark you, in about four feet of water, he went down. One of the faculty, who was watching the boys, saw him disappear. He jumped overboard with his cigar still in his mouth, dived under, brought him up, climbed back into his boat, and calmly went on smoking, leaving the Bay of Fundy hero to wade out.