"I have recovered from my wounds. Bravo is lying at my feet. Who does not love Bravo? I am sure I do, and the rascal knows it—don't you, Bravo? Come here, sir!"
CHAPTER VI.
Camp Life.—Winter Evenings.—An Evening in Camp.—Characters.— Card-playing.—A Song.—Collision with wild Beasts.—The unknown Animal in a Dilemma.—"Indian Devil."—The Aborigines' Terror.— A shocking Encounter.—The Discovery and Pursuit.—The Bear as an Antagonist.—Their thieving Propensities.—A thrilling Scene in the Night.—A desperate Encounter with three Bears.
The winter evenings of camp life are too much abridged in length to allow a long season either for repose or amusement, in consequence of the lateness of the hour in which the men leave work, and the various matters which regularly claim attention. By the time supper is over and the nightly camp-fire built, sleep early invites the laborer to the enjoyment of its soothing influences. And oh! how sweet is that repose! The incumbents of downy beds, nestled within the folds of gorgeous drapery, might earnestly but vainly court it.
Could you take a peep into our snug camp some evening, you might see one of our number, seated perhaps on a stool in the corner, with a huge jack-knife in his hand, up to his knees in whittlings, while he is endeavoring to give shape and proportions to the stick he is cutting to supply the place of a broken ax-handle. The teamster might be seen driving a heated "staple," with jingling ring, into a new yoke, which is to supply the place of one "Old Turk" split while attempting, with his mate and associates, to remove an immense pine log from its bed during the day; and as he strikes the heated iron into the perforated timber, the curling smoke, in two little spiral columns, rises gradually and gracefully, spreading as they ascend, until his head is enveloped in a dense cloud.
There sits another fellow staring into vacuity, while between his lips, profusely covered with a heavy beard, the growth of a quarter of a year, sticks a stub-stemmed pipe. Opening and shutting those ample lips, volumes of smoke roll out, like discharges from the side of a moss-grown battery, the very beau ideal of all that is exquisite in "tobaccoing." Bestride the deacon seat, a little removed, sits the cook, with a large pan between his knees, with shirt-sleeves furled, and in the dough to his elbows, kneading a batch of bread to bake for breakfast. The sweat rolls from his half-covered forehead, and, unable to relieve his hands, he applies now one elbow, then the other, to dry up the mizzle from his moistened brow. Yonder, at the further end of the camp, in close proximity to the fire, sits a lean, lank little man, with thin lips, ample forehead, and eyes no larger than a rifle bullet, piercing as the sun, poring over the dingy pages of an old weekly, perhaps for the tenth time. Songs, cards, or stories possess but little attraction for him. Intellectually inclined, but miserably provided for, still the old newspaper is a more congenial companion for him.
Behind the deacon seat, lounging upon the boughy bed, you may see half a dozen sturdy fellows—the bone and sinew of the crew—telling "yarns," or giving expression to the buoyancy of their feelings in a song, while the whole interior of the camp is lighted with a blazing hard-wood fire, which casts upward its rays through the capacious smoke-hole, gilding the overhanging branches of the neighboring trees. All within indicates health, content, and cheerfulness.
Card-playing is often resorted to as an evening pastime. If not provided with candles or lamps, the lovers of this recreation are careful to select a store of pitchy knots, whose brilliant combustion relieves them from all the inconvenience of darkness. This is, however, a bewitching amusement, and often proves detrimental to the peace and rest of the whole crew, and injurious also to the interests of employers.
The last winter I spent in the logging swamp, there were several packs of cards brought into the encampment by men in my division. I had resolved not to allow card-playing in my camp; but how to accomplish my purpose without inviting other unpleasant results was something to be thought of, as that man makes to himself an uncomfortable birth who incurs the ill will of his comrades in any way, especially in the exercise of authority not strictly related to the business for which they are employed, and by an infringement upon what they esteem their private and personal rights. Pointing out a pack of cards, while in camp one afternoon, to the owner of the same, at a moment when he was in a decidedly favorable mood for my purpose, "Come, Hobbs," said I, "burn them!" at the same time accompanying the request with the best reason I could offer to induce compliance. Taking them down, and thoughtfully shuffling them over for a minute, "Well," said he, "they are foolish things, aint they?" Of course I acquiesced. "Here goes!" said he, taking the poker and stirring open the hot bed of live coals, and in they went. The work of extirpation being commenced, he rifled the knapsacks of others belonging to the crew of their packs of cards, and threw them into the fire also, pronouncing deliberately, "High, low, Jack, and the game!" I really expected a fuss when the matter should come to the knowledge of the others. They submitted, however, to their bereavement like philosophers. It passed off without any muss being kicked up, though the agent was a little menaced for the liberties he had taken in the matter; but he enjoyed the sympathies of the instigator.