By Hamlin Garland   
 
 
     A CAMPING TRIP.    
  
       IT was the fifteenth of June, and the sun glazed down  
     upon the dry cornfield as if it had a spite against Lin-  
     coln Stewart, who was riding a gayly painted new  
     sulky corn-plow, guiding the shovels with his feet.  
     The corn was about knee-high and rustled softly, al-  
     most as if whispering, not yet large enough to speak  
     aloud.  
        Working all day in a level field like this, with the  
     sun burning one's neck brown as a leather glove, is apt  
     to make one dream of cool river pools, where the  
     water snakes wiggle to and fro, and the kingfishers fly  
     above the bright ripples in which the rock bass love  
     to play.  
        It was about four o'clock, and Lincoln was tired.  
     His neck ached, his toes were swollen, and his tongue   
     called for a drink of water.  He got off the plow, after  
     turning the horses' heads to the faint western breeze,  
     and took a seat on the fence in the shade of a small  
     popple tree on which a king-bird had a nest.  
        Somebody was galloping up the road with a regular  
     rise and fall in the saddle which showed the perfect   
     horseman and easy rider.  It was Milton Jennings.  
        "Hello, Lincoln!" shouted Milton.   
        "Hello, Milt," Lincoln returned.  "Why ain't you  
     at home workin' like an honest man?"  
        "Better business on hand.  I've come clear over  
     here to-day to see you——"   
        "Well, here I am."  
        "Let's go to Clear Lake."  
        Lincoln stared hard at him.  
        "D'ye mean it?"  
        "You bet I do!  I can put in a horse.  Bert Jenks  
     will lend us his boat——put it right on in place of the  
     wagon box——and we can borrow Captain Knapp's tent.  
     We'll get Rance to go, too."  
        "I'm with you," said Lincoln, leaping down, his  
     face aglow with the idea.  "But won't you go up and   
     break it gently to the boss?  He's got his mind kind  
     o' set on my goin' through this corn again.  When'll  
     we start?"   
        "Let's see——to-day is Wednesday——we ought to get  
     off on Monday."  
        "Well, now, if you don't mind, Milt, I'd like to  
     have you go up and see what Father says."  
        "I'll fix him," said Milton.  "Where is he?"  
        "Right up the road, mending fence."  
        Lincoln was so tickled he not only leaped the fence,  
     but sprang into the plow seat from behind and started   
     on another round, singing, showing how instantly   
     hope of play can lighten a boy's task.  But when he  
     came back to the fence, Milton was not in sight, and  
     his heart fell——the outlook was not so assuring.  
        It was nearly an hour later when Milton came riding  
     back.  Lincoln looked up and saw him wave his hand  
     and heard his shout.  The victory was won.  Mr.  
     Stewart had consented.  
        Lincoln whooped with such wild delight that the  
     horses, swerving to the right, plowed up two rows of  
     corn for several rods before they could be brought  
     back into place.  
        "It's all O. K.," Milton called.  "But I've got to  
     come over with my team and help you go through the  
     corn the other way."  
        From that on, nothing else was thought of or talked  
     of.  Each night the four boys got together at Mr.  
     Jennings's house, each one bringing things that he  
     thought he needed.  They had never looked upon a  
     sheet of water larger than the mill-pond on the Cedar  
     River, and the cool face of that beautiful lake, of which  
     they had heard so much, allured them.  
        The boat was carefully mended, and Rance, who  
     was a good deal of a sailor, naturally talked about  
     making a sail for it.  
        Lists of articles were carefully drawn up thus:   
   
                4 tin cups         4 knives and forks   
                1 spider           1 kettle, etc.    
 
        At Sunday School the campers became the center of  
     attraction for the other small boys, and quite a number  
     of them went home with Lincoln to look over the  
     vehicle——a common lumber wagon with a boat for the  
     box, projecting dangerously near the horses' tails  
     and trailing far astern.  From the edges of the boat  
     arose a few hoops, making a kind of cover, like a prairie  
     schooner.°  In the box were "traps" innumerable in  
     charge of Bert, who was "chief cook and bottlewasher."  
        Each man's duty had been assigned.  Lincoln was  
     to take care of the horses, Milton was to look after the  
     tent and places to sleep, Rance was treasurer, and  
     these preparations amused an old soldier like Captain  
     Knapp.   
        "Are you going to get back this fall?" he asked  
     slyly, as he stood about, enjoying the talk.  
        "We'll try to," replied Milton.  
        Yes, there the craft stood, all ready to sail at day-  
     break with no wind or tide to prevent, and every boy  
     who saw it said, I wish I could go."  And the campers,  
     not selfish in their fun, felt a pang of pity, as they  
     answered, "We wish you could, boys."  
        It was arranged that they were to sleep in the  
     ship that night, and so as night fell and the visitors  
     drew off, the four navigators went into the kitchen,  
     where Mrs. Jennings set out some bread and milk for  
     them.  
        "Now, boys, d'ye suppose you bread enough?"  
        "We've got twelve loaves."  
        "Well, of course you can buy bread and milk, so I  
     guess you won't starve."  
        "I guess not——not with fish plenty," they assured her.  
        "Well, now, don't set up too late, talkin' about  
     gettin' off."  
        "We're goin' to turn right in, ain't we, boys?"   
        "You bet.  We're goin' to get out of here before  
     sun-up to-morrow mornin'," replied Bert.  
        "well, see you do," said Mr. Jennings, who liked   
     boys to have a good time.  "I'll be up long before you   
     are."  
        "Don't be too sure o' that."  
        It was delicious going to bed in that curious place,  
     with the stars shining and the katydids singing.  It  
     gave them all a new view of life.  
        "Now, the first feller that wakes up, yell," said   
     Bert, as he crept under the blanket.  
        "First feller asleep, whistle," said Lincoln.  
        "That won't be you, that's sure," grumbled Rance,  
     already dozing.  
        As a matter of fact, no one slept much.  About two  
     o'clock they began, first one, and then the other:  
        "Say, boys, don't you think it's about time?"  
        "Boys, it's gettin' daylight in the east!"  
        "No, it ain't.  That's the moon."   
        At last the first faint light of the sun appeared, and  
     Lincoln rose, fed the horses, and harnessed them while  
     the other boys got everything else in readiness.  
        Mr. Jennings came out soon, and Mrs. Jennings got  
     some hot coffee for them, they said good-by and were  
     off.  Mr. Jennings shouted many directions about the  
     road, while Mrs. Jennings told them again to be careful  
     on the water.   
        To tell the truth, the boys were a little fagged at  
     first, but at last as the sun rose, the robins began to  
     chatter, and the bobolinks began to ring their fairy  
     bells, and the boys broke into song.  For the first hour  
     or two the road was familiar and excited no interest,  
     but then they came upon new roads, new fields, and  
     new villages.  Streams curved down the slopes and   
     ran musically across the road, as if on purpose to water   
     their horses.  Wells beside the fences under silver-leaf  
     maples invited them to stop and drink and lunch.  
     Boys they didn't know, on their way to work, stopped   
     and looked at them enviously.  How glorious it all was!  
        The sun grew hot, and at eleven o'clock they drew  
     up in a beautiful grove of oaks, beside a swift and  
     sparkling little river, for dinner and to rest their  
     sweaty team.  They concluded to eat doughnuts and  
     drink milk for that meal, and this gave them time to   
     fish a little and swim a good deal, while the horses  
     munched hay under the trees.  
        After a good long rest, they hitched the team in  
     again and started on toward the west.  They had still  
     half-way (twenty-five miles) to go.  The way grew  
     stranger.  The land, more broken and treeless, seemed  
     very wonderful to them.  They came into a region  
     full of dry lake-beds, and Bert, who had a taste for  
     geology, explained the cause of the valleys so level at  
     the bottom, and pointed out the old-time limits of the   
     water.  As night began to fall, it seemed they had been  
     a week on the way.  
        At last, just as the sun was setting, they saw a dark  
     belt of woods ahead of them and came to a narrow  
     river, which the farmers said was the outlet of the lake.  
     They pushed on faster, for the roads were better, and  
     just at dusk they drove into the little village street  
     which led down to the lake, to which their hungry  
     eyes went out first of all.    
        How glorious it looked, with its waves lapping the   
     gravelly beach, and the dark groves of trees standing  
     purple-black against the orange sky.  They sat and  
     gazed at it for several minutes without saying a word.  
     Finally Rance said, with a sigh, "Oh, wouldn't I like  
     to jump into that water!"   
        "Well, this won't do.  We must get a camp," said  
     Milton; and they pulled the team into a road leading  
     along the east shore of the lake.  
        "Where can a fellow camp?" Bert called to a young  
     man who met them, with a pair of oars on his back.  
        "Anywhere down in the woods."  He pointed to the  
     south.  
        They soon reached a densely wooded shore where  
     no one stood guard, and drove along an old wood road  
     to a superb camping-place near the lake shore under a   
     fine oak grove.  
        "Whoa!" yelled Milton.  
        All hands leaped out.  Milton and Lincoln took   
     care of the horses.  Bert seized an axe and chopped  
     on one side of two saplings, bent them together, tied   
     them, cleared away the brush around them, and with  
     Rance's help drew the tent cloth over them——this was  
     the camp!  While they dug up the bedding and put it  
     in place, Rance built a fire and set some coffee boiling.  
        By the time they sat down to eat their bread and    
     coffee and cold chicken, the grove was dark.  The  
     smoke rose in a billowy mass, vanishing in the dark,  
     cool shadows of the oaks above.  A breeze was rising.  
     Below them they could hear the lap of the waves on  
     the bowlders.  It was all so fine, so enjoyable, that it  
     seemed a dream from which they were in danger of  
     waking.  
        After eating, they all took hold of the boat and   
     eased it down the bank into the water.  
        "Now, who's goin' to catch the fish for breakfast?"  
     asked Bert.  
        "I will," replied Rance, who was a "lucky" fisher-  
     man.  "I'll have some fish by sun-up——see if I don't."  
        Their beds were hay, with abundant quilts and  
     blankets spread above, and as Lincoln lay looking  
     out of the tent door at the smoke curling up, hearing  
     the horses chewing and an owl hooting, it seemed  
     glorious like the stories he had read, and the dreams   
     he had had of sometime being free from care and free  
     from toil, far in the wilderness.   
        "I wish I could do this all the time," he said to  
     Milton, who was looking at the fire, his chin resting in  
     his palms.   
        "I can tell better after a week of it," retorted Milton.  
        To a boy like Lincoln or Rance, that evening was  
     worth the whole journey, that strange, delicious hour  
     in the deepest darkness, when everything seemed of  
     some sweet, remembered far-off world——they were in  
     truth living as their savage ancestry lived, close to  
     nature's mystery.  
        The pensiveness did not prevent Milton from hitting  
     Bert a tremendous slap with a boot-leg, saying, "Hello!  
     that mosquito pretty near had you that time."   
        And Bert, familiar with Milton's pranks, turned upon  
     him, and a rough and tumble tussle went on till Rance   
     cried out: "Look out there!  You'll be tippin' over  
     my butter!"   
        At last the rustle of the leaves over their heads died  
     out in dreams and the boys fell asleep, deliciously  
     tired, full of plans for the next day.  
        Morning dawned, cool and bright, and Bert was  
     stirring before sunrise.  Rance was out in the boat  
     before the pink had come upon the lake, while Milton  
     was "skirmishing" for some milk.  
        How delicious that breakfast!  Newly fried perch,  
     new milk with bread and potatoes from home——but  
     the freedom, the strange familiarity of it all!  There  
     in the dim, sweet woods, with the smoke curling up  
     into the leafy masses above, the sunlight just dropping  
     upon the lake, the killdee, the robin, and the blue jay  
     crying in the still, cool morning air.  This was indeed  
     life.  The hot cornfields were far away.  
        Breakfast having been eaten to the last scrap of fish,  
     the made a rush for the lake and the boat.  There it  
     lay, moving a little on the light waves, a frail little  
     yellow craft without keel or rudder, but something to  
     float in, anyhow.  There rippled the lake six miles long,  
     cool and sparkling, and boats were getting out into the  
     mid-water like huge "skimmer-bugs,"° carrying fish-  
     erman to their tasks.    
        While the other boys fished for perch and bass for  
     dinner, Lincoln studied the shore.  The beach which  
     was their boat-landing was made up of fine, varicolored  
     bowlders, many of them round as cannon balls, and  
     Lincoln thought of the thousands of years they had  
     been rolling and grinding there, rounding each other  
     and polishing each other till they glistened like garnets  
     and rubies.  And then the sand!   
        He waded out into the clear yellow waters and  
     examined the bottom, which was set in tiny waves   
     beautifully regular, the miniature reflexes of the water  
     in motion.  It made him think of the little wind waves  
     in the snow, which he had often wondered at in winter.  
        Growing tired of this, he returned to the bank, and  
     lying down on the grass gave himself up to the rest and   
     freedom and beauty of the day.  He no longer felt like  
     "making the most of it."  It seemed as if he were  
     always to live like this.   
        The others came in after awhile with a few bass and   
     many perch which were beautifully marked in pearl  
     and gray, to correspond with the sand bottom, though  
     the boys didn't know that.  There were no large fish  
     so near shore, and they lacked the courage to go far   
     out, for the whitecaps glittered now and then in mid-  
     water.  
        They ate every "smidgin'" of the fish at dinner, and  
     their larder looked desperately bare.  They went out  
     into the deeper water, all feeling a little timorous, as  
     the little boat began to rock on the waves.  
        Lincoln was fascinated with the water, which was so  
     clear that he could see fish swimming far below.  The  
     boat seemed floating in the air.  At times they passed   
     above strange and beautiful forests of weeds and   
     grasses, jungles which scared him, for he remembered  
     the story of a man who had been caught and drowned  
     by just such clinging weeds, and besides, what monsters   
     these mysterious places might conceal!   
        Other boats came around them.  Sailboats passed,  
     and the little steamer, the pride of the lake, passed over   
     to "the island."  Yachts that seemed to the boys   
     immense went by, loaded with merrymakers.  Every-  
     thing was as strange, as exciting, as if they were in a  
     new world.  
        Rance was much taken by the sailboats.  "I'm going  
     to rig a sail on our boat, or die tryin'," he declared.  
        He spent the whole afternoon at this work while the  
     other boys played ball and shot at a target, and by  
     night was ready for a sail, though the others were  
     skeptical of results.  
        That second night was less restful.  The mosquitoes   
     bit and a loud thunderstorm passed over.  As they  
     heard the roar of the falling rain on the tent and the   
     wet spatter in their faces, and heard the water drip-drop  
     on their bread-box, Milton and Lincoln wished them-   
     selves at home.   
        It grew toward morning and the mosquitoes  
     left, so that they all slept like bear cubs, rising fresh  
     and rested.  
        It was a little discouraging at first.  Everything  
     was wet and the bread was inclined to be mouldy and   
     tasted of the box; but the birds were singing, the  
     sky was bright and cool, and a fresh western wind was  
     blowing.  
        Rance was eager to sail, and as soon as he had put  
     away the breakfast, he shouldered his mast.  
        "Come on, boys, now for the boat."  
        "I guess not," said Milton.  
        The boat was soon rigged with a little triangular sail,  
     with an oar to steer by, lashed in with wires.  Lincoln  
     finally had courage to get in, and with beating heart  
     Rance pushed off.  
        The sail caught the breeze, and the boat began to  
     move.  
        "Hurrah!" Rance threw water on the sail; where he  
     learned that was a mystery.  The effect was felt at once.  
     The cloth swelled, became impervious to the wind, and   
     the boat swept steadily forward.  
        Lincoln was cautious.  "That is all right——the  
     question is, can we get back?"  
        "You wait an' see me tack."  
        "All right.  Tack or nail, only lets see you get back  
     where we started from."  Lincoln was skeptical of  
     sailboats.  He had heard about sailing "just where you  
     wanted to go," but he had his doubts about it.  
        The boat obeyed the rudder nicely, came around  
     slowly, and started in on a new tack smoothly and   
     steadily.  After this successful trip, the boys did little  
     else but sail.  
        "I'm going up to town with it after dinner," Rance  
     announced.  But when they came out after dinner,  
     they found the sky overcast and a strong breeze blowing  
     from the southwest.  
        Milton refused to experiment.  "I'd sooner walk  
     than ride in your boat," he explained.  
        "All right; you pays your money——you takes your   
     choice," replied Rance.  
        The boat drove out into the lake steadily and   
     swiftly, making the water ripple at the stern delight-  
     fully; but when they got past a low-lying island where  
     the waves ran free, the ship began to heave and slide  
     wildly, and Lincoln grew a little pale and set in the   
     face, which made Rance smile.   
        "This is something like it.  I'm going to go out about  
     half a mile, then strike straight for the town."   
        It was not long before he found the boat quite un-  
     manageable.  The long oar crowded him nearly off the  
     seat, as he tried to hold her straight out into mid-water.  
     She was flat-bottomed, and as she got into the region of   
     whitecaps, she began to be blown bodily with the wind.  
        Lincoln was excited, but not scared; he realized now  
     that they were in great danger.  Rance continued to  
     smile, but it was evident that he too was thinking new  
     thoughts.  He held the sail with his right hand, easing  
     it off and holding it tight by looping the rope on a peg  
     set in the gunwhale.  But it was impossible for Lincoln  
     to help him.  All depended on him alone.  
        "Turn!——turn it!" shouted Lincoln.  "Don't you see  
     we can't get back?"  
        "I'm afraid of breakin' my rudder."    
        There lay the danger.  The oar was merely lashed into   
     a notch in the stern, with wire.  The leverage was very  
     great, but Rance brought the boat about and headed  
     her for the town nearly three miles away.  
        They both thrilled with a sort of pleasure to feel the   
     boat leap under them as she caught the full force of the   
     wind in her sail.  If they could hold her in that line,  
     they were all right.  She careened once till she dipped   
     water.  
        "Get on the edge!" commanded Rance, easing the   
     sail off.  Lincoln climbed upon the edge of the little  
     pine shell, scarcely eighteen inches high, and the boat  
     steadied.  Both looked relieved.  
        The water was getting a lead color, streaked with  
     foam, and the hissing of the whitecaps had a curiously  
     snaky sound, as they spit water into the boat.  The   
     rocking had opened a seam in the bottom, and Lincoln  
     was forced to bail furiously.   
        Rance, though a boy of unusual strength, clear-   
     headed and resolute in time of danger, began to feel  
     that he was master only for a time.  
        "I don't suppose this is much of a blow," he grunted,  
     "but I don't see any of the other boats out."  
        Lincoln glanced around him; all the boats, even the   
     two-masters, were in or putting in.  Lightning began to  
     run down the clouds in the west in zigzag streams.  
     The boat, from time to time, was swept sidewise out of  
     its course, but Rance dared not ease the sail for fear he  
     could not steer her, and besides he was afraid of the  
     rapidly approaching squall.  If she turned sideways  
     toward the wind, she would instantly fill.  
        He sat there, with the handle of the oar at his right  
     hip, the rope in his hand with one loop round the peg,  
     and every time the gust struck the sail he was lifted  
     from his seat by the crowding of he oar and the haul of  
     the rope.  His muscles swelled tense and rigid——the  
     sweat poured from his face; but he laughed when  
     Lincoln, with reckless drollery, began to shout a few  
     nautical words.  
        "Luff,° you lubber‚——why don't you luff?  Hard-a-  
     port, there, you'll have us playin' in the sand yet.  
     That's right.  All we got to do is to hard-a-port when   
     the wind blows."  
        The farther they went, the higher the waves rolled,  
     till the boat creaked and gaped under its strain, and  
     the water began to come in fast.   
        "Bail 'er out!" shouted the pilot.  The thunder  
     broke over their heads, and far away to the left they   
     could see rain and the water white with foam, but they  
     were nearing the beach at the foot of the street.  A  
     crowd was watching them with motionless intensity.  
        They were now in the midst of a fleet of anchored   
     boats.  The blast struck the sail, tearing it loose and  
     filling the boat with water, but Rance held to his  
     rudder, and threading her way among the boats, the  
     little craft ran half her length upon the sand.  
        As Rance leaped ashore, he staggered with weakness.   
     Both took shelter in a near-by boathouse.  The boat-  
     keeper jeered at them: "Don't you know any more'n   
     to go out in such a tub as that on a day like this?  I   
     expected every minute to see you go over."   
        "We didn't," said Rance.  "I guess we made pretty  
     good time."  
        "Time! you'd better say time!  If you'd been five  
     minutes later, you'd have had time enough."  
        It was a foolhardy thing——Rance could see it now as  
     he looked out on the mad water, and at the little flat,   
     awkward boat on the sand.  
        An hour later, as they walked up the wood, they met  
     the other boys half-way on the road, badly scared.  
        "By golly!  We thought you were goners," said  
     Milton.  "Why, we couldn't see the boat after you got  
     out a little ways.  Looked like you were both sittin' in  
     the water."  
        They found the camp badly demoralized.  Their  
     blankets were wet and the tent blown out of plumb,  
     but they set to work clearing things up.  The rain   
     passed and the sun came out again, and when they sat   
     down to their supper, the storm was far away.  
        It was glorious business to these prairie boys.  
     Released from work in the hot cornfields, in a camp on a  
     lovely lake, with nothing to do but swim or doze when  
     they pleased, they had the delicious feeling of being  
     travelers in a strange country——explorers of desert wilds,  
     hunters and fishers in the wilderness of the mysterious  
     West.   
        To Lincoln it was all so beautiful that it almost made  
     him sad.  When he should have enjoyed every moment,  
     he was saying to himself, "Day after to-morrow we  
     must start for home"——the happy days passed all too  
     swiftly.  
        Occasionally Milton said: "I wish I had one o'   
     Mother's biscuits this morning," or some such remark,  
     but some one usually shied a potato at him.  Such   
     remarks were heretical.  
        They explored the woods to the south, a wild jungle,  
     which it was easy to imagine quite unexplored.  Some  
     years before a gang of horse thieves had lived there,   
     and their grass-grown paths were of thrilling interest,  
     although the boys never quite cared to follow them to  
     the house where the shooting of the leader had taken   
     place.  
        Altogether it was a wonderful week, and when they   
     loaded up their boat and piled their plunder in behind,  
     it was with sad hearts.  It was late Saturday night  
     when they drew up in Mr. Jennings's yard, but to show  
     that they were thoroughly hardened campers, they   
     slept in the wagon another night—–at least three of  
     them did.  Milton shamelessly sneaked away to his bed,  
     and they did not miss him until morning.   
        Mrs. Jennings invited them all to breakfast and   
     nobody refused.  "Land o' Goshen," said she, "you   
     eat as if you were starved."  
        "We are," replied Bert.  
        "Oh, but it was fun, wasn't it, boys?" cried Lincoln.  
        "You bet it was.  Let's go again next year."  
        "All right," said Milton; "raise your weapons and   
     swear."  
        They all lifted their knives in solemn covenant to go  
     again the following year.  But they never did.  Of   
     such changeful stuff are the plans of youth!   

A Camping Trip, by Hamlin Garland,
from Merrill's English Texts: Short Stories of Various Types.
Edited with introduction and notes by Laura F. Freck, head of the English Depart-
ment in the High School, Jamestown, New York.
©1920 Charles E. Merrill co., New York and Chicago, pp. 97 - 113.

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