Clark had given me that morning; and I was surprised and
delighted to find, among the other things, a small bottle of
coffee. This suggested all sorts of pleasing possibilities and,
the spirit of invention being now awakened, I got out my tin cup,
split a sapling stick so I could fit it into the handle, and set
the cup, full of coffee, on the coals at the edge of the fire. It
was soon heated, and although I spilled some of it in getting it
off, and although it was well spiced with ashes, I enjoyed it,
with Mrs. Clark's doughnuts and sandwiches (some of which I
toasted with a sapling fork) as thoroughly, I think, as ever I
enjoyed any meal.
How little we know--we who dread life--how much there is in life!
My activities around the fire had warmed me to the bone, and
after I was well through with my meal I gathered a plentiful
supply of wood and placed it near at hand, I got out my
waterproof cape and put it on, and, finally piling more sticks on
the fire, I sat down comfortably at the foot of the tree.
I wish I could convey the mystery and the beauty of that night.
Did you ever sit by a campfire and watch the flames dance, and
the sparks fly upward into the cool dark air? Did you ever see
the fitful light among the tree-depths, at one moment opening
vast shadowy vistas into the forest, at the next dying downward
and leaving it all in sombre mystery? It came to me that night
with the wonderful vividness of a fresh experience.
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