Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 28, 2025
They sat on their blankets beside a blazing campfire amid the great silence, broken only by the voices of the campers and the occasional cry of a night bird.
It ended abruptly. Duane leaped forward, tore his way through the thorny brake. He heard Jennie cry again an appealing call quickly hushed. It seemed more to his right, and he plunged that way. He burst into a glade where a smoldering fire and ground covered with footprints and tracks showed that campers had lately been. Rushing across this, he broke his passage out to the open.
Pipes had been filled and preparations made for the usual evening smoke and talk, when a man was seen emerging from the woods at the point where the road opened into the clearing about the camp. It was still light, for these hungry campers supped early, and the man could be distinctly seen as he approached, and it was plain that he was not a messenger from Sadler's.
The chill eyes of Albeen, narrowed to shining slits, focused on Roush menacingly. All present understood that he was offering Devil Dave a choice. He could draw steel, or he could side-step the issue. The campers had been playing poker with white navy beans for chips.
On the way thither, it being just the hour for the deer to be running, that is, descending from the hills for an evening meal, Neal got a successful shot at a small two-year-old buck. This was a stroke of luck for the campers, and a necessary deed of death. It supplied them with venison for their journey; and, as Cyrus said, "they had already put a shamefully big hole in Dr.
Charlie, the spokesman of the party because he was the eldest, did not know. His father and uncle were out prospecting among the campers now. Sandy was sure that they would go up the Republican Fork. His father had met one of the settlers from that region, and had been very favorably impressed with his report. This Republican Fork man was an Arkansas man, but "a good fellow," so Sandy said.
The man chosen for cook was one of the drivers from Chicago named Taylor, who had cooked for campers and for parties at work in the woods. He was really a good plain cook. His utensils consisted of some large boiling pots and kettles, a tin bake oven, two or three frying pans, a two-gallon coffeepot and a few other usual articles.
It was a wind-blown place, and the moan of the surf on the outer reef was continually in the ears of the campers on the Point. The tang of salt in the air could always be tasted on the lips when one was out of doors. And the younger folks were out on the sands most of the time when they were not working, sleeping, or eating.
XVII. The Lost Mine of the Padres In the cool, starry evenings the campers sat around a blazing fire and told and listened to stories thrillingly fitted to the dark crags and the wild solitude. Monty Price had come to shine brilliantly as a storyteller.
"You're the biggest Shark so far," remarked Miss Armstrong, as Sahwah clambered up on the dock after her swim across the river, during which she had almost outdistanced the boat which accompanied her over and back. Sahwah smiled modestly as one of the old campers started a cheer for her, and turned to watch Undine Girelle, who was mounting the diving tower.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking