To Be In A Leaky, Shaky Old Boat Over A Watery, Bottomless
Pit, As The One That Trout Had Been
Down in, was more than I could
calmly endure, so with undisguised disgust Faye rowed me back to the
landing,
Where I caught quite as many fish as anyone out in the boats.
One of the enlisted men prepared dinner for us, and fried the trout in
olive oil, the most perfect way of cooking mountain trout in camp.
They were delicious - so fresh from the icy water that none of their
delicate flavor had been lost, and were crisp and hot. We had cups of
steaming coffee and all sorts of nice things from the boxes we had
brought from the post. A flat boulder made a grand table for us, and
of course each one had his little camp stool to sit upon. Altogether
the dinner was a success, the best part of it being, perhaps, the
exhilarating mountain air that gave us such fine appetites, and a keen
appreciation of everything ludicrous.
While we were fishing, our tents had been arranged for us in real
soldier fashion. Great bunches of long grass had been piled up on each
side underneath the little mattresses, which raised the beds from the
ground and made them soft and springy. Those "A" tents are very small
and low, and it is impossible to stand up in one except in the center
under the ridgepole, for the canvas is stretched from the ridgepole to
the ground, so the only walls are back and front, where there is an
opening. I had never been in one before and was rather appalled at its
limitations, and neither had I ever slept on the ground before, but I
had gone prepared for a rough outing. Besides, I knew that everything
possible had been done to make Mrs. Stokes and me comfortable. The air
was chilly up on the mountain, but we had any number of heavy blankets
that kept us warm.
The night was glorious with brilliant moonlight, and the shadows of
the pine trees on the white canvas were black and wonderfully clear
cut, as the wind swayed the branches back and forth. The sounds of the
wind were dismal, soughing and moaning as all mountain winds do, and
made me think of the Bogy-man and other things. I found myself
wondering if anything could crawl under the tent at my side. I
wondered if snakes could have been brought in with the grass. I
imagined that I heard things moving about, but all the time I was
watching those exquisite shadows of the pine needles in a dreamy sort
of way.
Then all at once I saw the shadow of one, then three, things as they
ran up the canvas and darted this way and that like crazy things, and
which could not possibly have grown on a pine tree. And almost at the
same instant, something pulled my hair! With a scream and scramble I
was soon out of that tent, but of course when I moved all those things
had moved, too, and wholly disappeared.
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