Most of the scouts were bubbling over with enthusiasm concerning the outlook before them; but several of the less daring ones might be seen casting furtive glances about as though the prospect of passing the night amidst such lonely surroundings had already commenced to make them feel a little queer.
No doubt the pride of these fellows would carry them through the initial night; and after that by degrees they would become accustomed to their new experiences. Every soldier can look back to his first battle, remembering how he trembled in his shoes, and feeling that he would give all he possessed for the privilege of running away at top speed.
And when supper was ready, with the boys gathered around, each bent on doing the best he knew how to show his appreciation of the work of the cooks, it seemed to be the fitting climax to a most wonderful day. Would they ever forget that supper? Never had anything tasted so royally good at home.
“This is the life!” declared Josh Kingsley, buoyantly, as he passed his tin plate along for a second helping when he heard it mentioned that there was still a further supply not distributed.
“It certainly does taste pretty fine to me!” admitted Horace Crapsey, who had in times gone by been so finicky about his eating that his folks had begun to wonder what was going to become of him—yet who was now sitting there cross-legged like a Turk, wielding an ordinary knife and fork, and with his pannikin on his lap, actually doing without a napkin, and enjoying it in the bargain.
Mr. Witherspoon had the seat of honor, for the boys insisted that he should occupy the highest place on the log that had been rolled near the fires. He observed all that went on with satisfaction. Boys were close to his heart, and he never tired of his hobby of studying them. It was a constant source of delight to the scout master to listen to them chatter, and he noticed that a perceptible change was taking place in some of his charges since first joining the troop.
Finally when every youth admitted that he had had all he could eat, Mr. Witherspoon got up.
“Now it’s full time we started our real campfire,” he announced. “That was why I had you gather such a big heap of wood. Here’s the right place for the blaze, as we must be careful not to scorch any of the trees, the branches of which hang down over us, because this property belongs to some one, and we must respect his rights.”
He had no trouble about finding willing workers, because every one acted as if anxious to have a hand in the building of that first campfire, to be recorded in the annals of Lenox Troop as an event of unusual importance.
When finally the pyramid had been carefully built the scout master was asked to apply the match.