Scott Burton, Forester

by Edward G. Cheyney

“Humph,” Greenleaf grunted, “seems pretty easy when I have told you what it is.”

This became the favorite amusement at every stop that was made, and all along the line of march the identity of every tree concerning which there was any doubt, was settled to the satisfaction of everyone. Scott soon learned the trees well enough to take part in the discussions, and added to the interest of the stops by quizzing the others on specimens of rock he had collected, or explaining the physiography of the country through which they were passing. On the present occasion the stop was of brief duration. They planned to celebrate Thanksgiving in the usual manner with a big dinner in the middle of the afternoon and no more hiking that day. With this object in view they had elected to camp about two miles below Hastings, which they reached at half past two.

Scott was anxious to see how such a tiny tent as they were packing could possibly be made to accommodate four good-sized men. His curiosity was still further aroused by the eagerness with which the others seemed to be looking for a large fallen tree. A shout from Ormand brought the party to a halt.

“Here she is. Just where we want her, too.” The “she” referred to a large rotten log lying parallel to the river bank and some thirty feet from it.

Ormand began singing out orders like a major general even before he had slipped out of his pack. “Morgan, you build the fire and get the kettle on. Greenleaf, you and Scotty put up the tent and make the beds. I’ll go get the turkey.” And he disappeared in the bushes.

Greenleaf immediately took charge of the operation. “You unpack the tent, Scotty, while I cut the poles.” Scott busied himself with the pack while Greenleaf went circling through the neighboring woods eying critically every sapling he passed. An occasional sound of chopping announced the discovery of the sought-for pieces. In ten minutes he was back with two pieces, each three and a half feet long and forked at one end, a long slender pole, and two heavier poles about twelve feet long.

Scott buttoned the two halves of the dog tent together and watched Greenleaf chopping off the brush and smoothing the ground on the south side of the log. When this was completed to Greenleaf’s satisfaction, and he was very particular about it, he stretched the straight edge of the tent—what would ordinarily have been the front—tight along the log. He then produced from his pocket three twenty-penny spikes which he proceeded to drive through the brass eyelets into the log.

He and Scott stretched the tent out flat in a horizontal position and pushed the two forked sticks into the ground just outside of the front corners. On these two forked sticks the slender pole was laid and the front corners of the tent tied to it, thus keeping the canvas taut. The heavy poles were then pushed butt first through the forked sticks, under the canvass, over the slender pole, over the log, and shoved firmly into the ground behind the log. The flaps which usually form the back of the tent were then extended to their full length and tied to the ends of the heavy poles. In just fifteen minutes the little lean-to was completed and as steady as could be desired.

They collected a big pile of dead leaves, which they spread evenly on the ground under the canvas for a mattress, and spread the blankets over them. In the meanwhile Morgan had built a fire similar to the one they had used in the morning and had the kettle boiling merrily. He had also collected a big pile of green wood for the night fire.

Just as they finished their work Ormand bounded into camp with two rabbits he had shot with his twenty-two pistol. The tea was made as before and another kettle of water put on immediately. Greenleaf was in favor of boiling the rabbits in the teakettle, but Morgan insisted on stewing them in the frying pan. Two cans of beans were punctured and placed in the fire to warm. Scott spread out the other stores and in an hour from the time they had found the log they were seated around their Thanksgiving dinner. Some more critical guests might have found fault with it, but for them it could not have been improved. A bag of apples which Scott had bought on his way through Hastings nobly topped off the feast.