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There was a determination in his mind to acquaint the range boss with his suspicions concerning Dorgan's expression, and he got up, after a while, and took a turn around the campfire in the hope of attracting Randerson's attention. Randerson paid no attention to him. But through the corners of his eyes, as he passed Dorgan, Owen noted that the man flashed a quick, speculative glance at him.
Beneath the buckskin hunting shirt beat a heart as dauntless as that of Amadis of Gaul or Palmerin of England, although there were no bards in the great forest to sing of his deeds and of the deeds of those like him. He intended to stay only two or three minutes longer, but he lingered nevertheless. The Indian campfire gave forth hardly a glimmer.
"Bunny has an 'lectric train, and I have an 'lectric Teddy bear. See, Eagle Feather!" She pushed the button, or switch, in the back of her toy, and at once the eyes flashed out brightly. "Huh! That much like real bear when you see him in dark by campfire," said the Indian. "Much funny. Let Eagle Feather see!"
Looking toward Kentucky, the majestic Mississippi was in plain sight as it swept southward, while beyond stretched the undulating forest, until it met the dim horizon in the distance. Far to the southward was seen the smoke of a campfire.
They decided to paddle leisurely, ending their canoe trip next day. About dusk they made their camp on a steep, wooded shore, and with the flame of their campfire reflected in the rippling water, Roy cooked supper. Pee-wee was supremely happy. It is doubtful if he had ever before been so happy. "There's one thing," said Tom, as he held the bacon over the flame.
'Twere only a squall, and 'tis about over. To-morrow's like to be a fair day." Late in the afternoon, as Skipper Zeb predicted, the snow ceased, the sky cleared and the wind moderated. The campfire outside was so cheerful Mrs. Twig and Violet came out of the tent to cook their supper there; and while Mrs. Twig cooked, Skipper Zeb laid a fragrant, springy bed of boughs within the tent.
For many there had been one night, one campfire that had been the last. This idea seemed to creep in out of the darkness, the loneliness, the silence, and to find a place in Gale's mind, so that it had strange fascination for him. He knew now as he had never dreamed before how men drifted into the desert, leaving behind graves, wrecked homes, ruined lives, lost wives and sweethearts.
"You'll miss the big bass this August," remarked Hal, laughing. "Guess you won't have all the sport." "That's so, Hal," I replied, regretfully. "But we're talking as if it were a dead sure thing that I'm going West. Well, I only hope so." What Hal and I liked best about camping of course after the fishing was to sit around the campfire.
Astro had just finished checking his rifle to be ready for instant fire, when Tom threw the last log on the campfire and crawled into his sleeping bag. "Think it'll be all right, Astro?" asked Tom. "I'm not anxious to wake up inside one of these critter's stomachs." "Most of them have never seen fire, Tom," Astro said reassuringly. "It scares them.
Reader, should you ever drift out to this beautiful lake, you will find on the ridge just above where Bog River comes tumbling, and roaring, and foaming over the rocks into the lake, the charred remains of a campfire, built against a great log that was once the trunk of a tall forest tree.
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