_Christmas in Camp Venture_
As breakfast was in course of preparation the next morning, Ed brought a
large dripping pan and set it in front of the fire.
"Now you fellows," he said, "who are broiling bacon on the points of
sharpened sticks, will please let the fat from it drip into this pan,
and you'll kindly do the same from now till Christmas."
"What's up Ed?" asked Jack. "What do you want us to do that for?"
"Why the Doctor insists that I must stay indoors till after Christmas,
so quite naturally it is going to fall to me to cook the Christmas
dinner. I take it for granted that little Tom is going to get that big
turkey gobbler he told us about, and I'm going to cook it properly--or
as nearly so as the limited resources of Camp Venture will permit. To
that end I shall want some drippings from broiling bacon. So save all
the fat you can, boys, from now until Christmas."
The boys asked no questions, knowing that Ed Parmly was by all odds the
best cook in the camp, but they saved all they could of the drippings
from the slices of bacon that they were toasting in the fire.
Three days before Christmas, Tom took his rifle and went out on the
mountain in search of his big turkey. He brought back some game--Tom
never failed to do that--but he came back without the big turkey, though
it was well after nightfall when he arrived at the camp. Some of the
boys were disposed to joke him about his failure, though of course in a
friendly way.
"That's all right fellows," answered Tom. "But I've promised you that
big turkey, and I'm going to deliver the goods."
"How can you speak so confidently, Tom?" asked Harry. "You've missed
getting him to-day and you may miss getting him to-morrow and next day."
"But I shan't do that," answered Tom with that confidence which is born
of knowledge and skill. "I know where that turkey and his flock are
roosting to-night, and I'll be there before daylight to-morrow morning.
I'll be right under him when he wakes, and I'll have my shot gun with
me, for the range to a roost is short. I'll have that turkey gobbler
here before noon to-morrow, or I'll admit that I'm no hunter."
"But suppose he quits his roost during the night and wanders away
somewhere," suggested the Doctor, who knew nothing of the habits of wild
turkeys.
"Turkeys never do that," answered Tom. "When once they go to roost they
stay there till the dawn broadens into full daylight. Nothing could
persuade them to quit their perches much before sunrise, and before that
time I'll have that stately gentleman flung over my shoulder."
Accordingly Tom left camp about two hours before the daylight came, and
about ten o'clock he returned, bearing the gigantic gobbler, in triumph,
and with it two smaller turkeys which he had also killed.
"There you doubters!" he said as he flung down the birds, "I promised
you a turkey dinner for Christmas and I've kept my word. It only remains
for Ed to cook the big bird properly and I haven't the least doubt that
he'll do that. The other two will keep in such weather as this as long
as we care to keep them. What with the game we already have on hand, and
these three turkeys, I think we're in no pressing danger of an outbreak
of scurvy in camp, are we Doctor?"
"So long as you are around, Tom," answered the Doctor, "I shall feel no
apprehension of scurvy, and still less of starvation."
Tom had shown his spoil at that part of the camp where the other boys
were chopping. Having done so he carried the turkeys to the house and
delivered them over to Ed, who, incapacitated for other work by his
wound, had made himself at once sentinel in charge of the prisoner and
company cook.
As soon as Tom left the choppers, Jack stopped his work, and said to the
others:
"I say, boys, Tom was a Christmas baby, and this coming Christmas day
will be his eighteenth birthday. Isn't there any way in which we can
celebrate it?"
"Yes," answered the Doctor, "We'll give a big dinner in his honor on
that occasion and surprise him with it. I have been jealously saving a
few onions and potatoes that I brought up the mountain in my pack. I
have carefully guarded them against frost as well as against use,
meaning to keep them all winter in case scurvy should appear among us.
But evidently Tom is taking care of that by keeping us abundantly
supplied with fresh meat. So I'm going to suggest to Ed that on
Christmas day he roast the onions in a pan or skillet and bake the
potatoes in the ashes. That, with the big turkey, will give us a dinner
fit for princes."
"Good!" cried the others, "and we'll pretend to forget all about it's
being Tom's birthday," added Jim Chenowith, "till the dinner is dished
up in his honor. Then we'll congratulate him."
Ed fell in with the plan with all heartiness when he was told of it. He
was a notably good cook considering that he was a boy, and he was
determined to produce the best result he could with the meagre means at
his disposal.
On Christmas morning he took the giblets of his big turkey--the gizzard,
liver, heart, the outer ends of the wings and the upper part of the
neck, and put them on the fire to stew.
Then he puzzled his brain over the question of a stuffing for the
gigantic turkey. He had no wheaten bread of any kind, and he doubted
that corn bread could be made to answer. Just then he remembered that a
box of crackers, two-thirds full, remained among Camp Venture's stores.
He hunted them out and took as many of them as he needed. He toasted
each to a rich crisp brown. When all were toasted he reduced them to
crumbs. Next he mixed the crumbs together with the bacon fat drippings
that he had made the boys save from their broiling. He added just enough
water to make the mass half adhere together. Then he chopped up one
small onion and mixed it with the stuffing. After adding a little
chopped bacon and a liberal supply of black pepper, he pressed the whole
mass into the hollow of the big bird and hung the turkey up before the
fire to roast, placing a dripping pan under it, setting it whirling at
the end of a string, and from time to time basting it with the drippings
that fell into the pan.
A little later he placed the potatoes in the hot embers to bake. He put
the onions into a skillet and placing live coals under and upon the lid
of that utensil, left them to roast. Still later he made up some corn
pones and set them to bake in another skillet. Finally, just before
dinner time, he brewed a great pot of coffee.
But in the meantime he had taken the giblets off the fire, chopped them
to a mince meat and poured them into the dripping pan that had reposed
under the turkey as it roasted. Into this he poured the water in which
the giblets had been stewed and added a little of the cracker crumbs for
thickening, a little salt and a liberal supply of pepper. This done he
stirred all together vigorously and produced a gravy of which even his
mother--the best cook he had ever known--might have been proud.
At the very last he dug the potatoes out of the ashes, split open one
side of each and inserted, in the mealy depths, a freshly broiled slice
of bacon. This was to replace the butter which he had not.
Then he called the boys to dinner, but as the day was warm he served the
meal on an improvised table out of doors, from which both points of
possible invasion of the camp could be fairly well observed. He did this
in order that the whole company, sentinel and all, might sit down
together in celebration of Christmas and of little Tom's birthday.
When the little company assembled, each member of it grasped Tom's hand
and warmly congratulated him, and when the boy learned how they had
exerted themselves to make his natal day one to be remembered, he fairly
broke down with affectionate emotion. It was assigned to him to carve
the great turkey gobbler, which in the absence of scales on which to
weigh him, the boys pretty accurately estimated at twenty-six pounds.
Jack served the roast onions, which were done to a beautiful brown, and
Ed himself dished out the potatoes, roasted to a hard crust without and
enticing mealiness within.
The coffee was drunk with the meal after the manner of the country, and
of course there was no milk to go with it, but these healthy, happy,
out-of-door boys enjoyed that Christmas dinner as they had never enjoyed
a dinner before.
Just as they were finishing the eating of it something struck and
penetrated the clapboards that formed the extemporized table. Tom
instantly glanced at the mark made, estimated direction and, turning,
sent a bullet from his long range rifle toward the point from which he
believed the shot to have come. A moment later there came another shot
and another, and this time Tom saw the smoke of the rifles from which
they came. He aimed carefully but quickly, and fired two shots in reply.
"There!" he said. "They are shooting from long range, or what they
regard as such, up there on the mountain. They think we have nothing but
shot guns and their plan is to shoot at us from too great a distance for
us to shoot back. I reckon those three bullets of mine will give them a
new idea of the situation, for this rifle carries at least twice as far
as any they have."
Apparently Tom was right, for after his shots were delivered no more was
heard from the assailing mountaineers.
"Now that teaches us a lesson," said Jack. "Our house door faces
directly south and up the mountain. There are points up there from which
those rascals can fire right into our house through the door, whenever
they feel so disposed. We must stop that right now."
"But how?" asked the Doctor.
"By building a bullet proof barricade of poles right here, ten feet in
front of our door," answered Jack. "We can easily do it this afternoon
and still get some chopping done."
Jack's suggestion was adopted instantly and the boys set to work at once
to carry it out. They set up some poles about fifteen feet high and six
feet apart, burying their lower ends deep in the earth. Then they set up
a second line in the same way about eight inches in front of the first
line. Next they placed in the space between the two lines a tier of
poles about five inches thick and so closely fitted together as to be
bullet proof. Then for complete safety they cut small brush into pieces,
and with them filled in what space remained between the two lines of
poles.
"Now then," said Jack, "Camp Venture is in a state of defence. But it
needs offensive as well as defensive advantages. We are pretty well
protected against stray bullets by the wooden barrier we have erected,
but we must also be able to shoot over it whenever that becomes
necessary. Let's build a platform inside of it, so that one of us
standing on it can see everything beyond and shoot as from a breast
work, if those fellows insist upon shooting as a condition of the game."
So the boys built the platform of poles, with a little ladder leading up
to it, and as it gave a full view of every part of the camp, it was
decided that the sentry should thereafter be stationed there in a
protected position, instead of being required to expose himself out
under the cliff.