A thin column of smoke seen rising lazily among the leafy trees and
fading to a wavering film in the warm morning air or the hotter breath
of noon, a flickering blaze kindling in the sultry dusk on some quiet
shore, mark the place of the summer camp-fire.
It is not, like the great hospitable flare and glowing coals of the
autumn and winter camp-fires, the centre to which all are drawn, about
which the life of the camp gathers, where joke and repartee flash to and
fro as naturally and as frequently as its own sparks fly upward, where
stories come forth as continuously as the ever-rising volume of smoke.
Rather it is avoided and kept aloof from, held to only by the unhappy
wretch upon whom devolves the task of tending the pot and frying-pan,
and he hovers near it fitfully, like a moth about a candle, now backing
away to mop his hot face, now darting into the torrid circle to turn a
fish or snatch away a seething pot or sizzling pan. Now and then the
curious and hungry approach to note with what skill or speed the cookery
is progressing, but they are content to look on at a respectful distance
and to make suggestions and criticisms, but not to interfere with aid.
The epicurean smoker, who holds that the finest flavor of tobacco is
evoked only by coal or blazing splinter, steals down upon the windward
side and snatches a reluctant ember or an elusive flame that flickers
out on the brink of the pipe bowl, but most who burn the weed are
content now to kindle it with the less fervid flame of a match.
And yet this now uncomfortable necessity is still the heart of the camp,
which without it would be but a halting place for a day, where one
appeases hunger with a cold bite and thirst with draughts of tepid
water, and not a temporary home where man has his own fireside, though
he care not to sit near it, and feasts full on hot viands and refreshes
himself with the steaming cup that cheers but not inebriates.
Its smoke drifted far through the woods may prove a pungent trail,
scented out among the odors of balsams and the perfume of flowers that
shall lead hither some pleasant stranger or unexpected friend, or its
firefly glow, flashing but feebly through the gloaming, may be a beacon
that shall bring such company. In its praise may also be said that the
summer camp-fire demands no laborious feeding nor careful tending, is
always a servant, seldom a master.