Awarding Prizes.
Every season it is just the same. As the last night draws near there is
great excitement among all the boys. Those who have earned medals, cups
or prizes try to appear unconcerned, while the rest of the Campers
handle, fondle and criticise the gifts.
We ourselves, who expect none, and wouldn't know what to do with a medal
if one was given to us, are just as eager and joyful as the smallest
Camper there.
When all is ready, what a hush! You can actually hear yourself think as
the Director stands up. He looks around with happy smile at the roomful
of waiting boys. Begins to read from a list in his hand the name of some
one fortunate fellow, who steps forward to receive his medal or cup, as
the case may be. Everybody must see it, read the inscription, look at
the engraving, look at the case to hold it, before returning it to the
winner and owner.
It is the same with each and every boy, whether the medal is of gold,
silver or bronze, whether he received it for swimming or rowing, for
running or jumping, for feats of strength, like putting the shot or
throwing the discus. What matter if it was for football or baseball,
tennis or diving? It is a medal, given for merit, and as such
appreciated by both winner and friends.
The most popular boy is awarded. The best all-around Camper is medalled.
There is hardly an act of courage or endurance that is passed by without
some recognition. Such an uproar as greets each new hero!
While we enjoy it with them ever so much, yet we are glad when at last
they are all awarded, leaving us the pleasure of hearing the different
members of the faculty called upon. The bashful man hardly gets a
chance. He is guyed until he sits down. Indeed, there seems to be an
understanding between all the boys not to allow any of the faculty to
speak. It is one huge laugh from start to finish.
Time after time another man is called upon to rise and express his
opinions, or, if he wishes, thank the boys for being so good to him
during the season. It's no go. He might just as well sit down and save
his breath to cool his porridge.
The rest of the evening is given up to yelling, shouting, singing and
having a generally jolly time.
Boys who are very wise have taken the precaution to lock all their
belongings up. Fear of burglars? No! A general rough house is looked
for on this last night. For fun they will dump each other's trunks or
beds.
No one's property is sacred. You can carefully lock your door, but if
there is a crevice large enough to let a spider in they will crawl
through that, turn your room upside down, not leaving one article in its
place, then crawl out again, leaving both door and window locked. How
could they have gotten in? No one can tell.
We have serious thoughts of bidding for a turret from some battleship
and using that as a room. Nothing lighter would be of any use. It is
long after the usual hour for "Taps" to sound, and we wonder why. The
bugler is there, but no bugle is to be found. Some boy has hidden it. So
on this, our last night in Camp we have to depend upon the instructors,
who collect their boys, march them to their tents and stay there,
keeping them company while they undress.
Most of them are really too tired to try any games on the other tents,
and without any of the trouble we had anticipated they are very soon
ready for the signal. As "Taps" cannot be blown the whistle in the hands
of the Director is made to take its place.
One shrill blast and the lights go out. "Good-night fellows, lots of fun
going home to-morrow."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]