the stirrings of animal life. And later in the night, when the fire
is low, and servants and cattle are asleep, and there is no sound but of
the wind and an occasional plaintive cry of wild animals, the traveller
finds himself in that close communion with nature which is the true charm
of wild travel. Now all this pleasure is lost by sleeping in a tent. Tent
life is semi-civilization, and perpetuates its habits. This may be
illustrated by a simple trait; a man who has lived much in bivouacs, if
there be a night alarm, runs naturally into the dark for safety, just as
a wild animal would; but a man who travels with tents becomes frightened
when away from its lights, or from the fancied security of its walls.
In a dangerous country there can be no comparison between the hazard of a
tent and that of a bivouac. In the former a man's sleep is heavy; he
cannot hear nearly so well; he can see nothing; his cattle may all
decamp; while marauders know exactly where he is lying, and may make
their plans accordingly. They may creep up unobserved and spear him
through the canvas. The first Napoleon had a great opinion of the
advantages of bivouacking over those of tenting. He said it was the
healthier of the two for soldiers. (See p. 153.)
Shelter from the Wind.--Study the form of a hare! In the flattest and
most unpromising of fields, the creature will have availed herself of
some little hollow to the lee of an insignificant tuft of grass, and
there she will have nestled and fidgeted about till she has made a
smooth, round, grassy bed, compact and fitted to her shape, where she may
curl herself snugly up, and cower down below the level of the cutting
night wind. Follow her example. A man, as he lies upon his mother earth,
is an object so small and low that a screen of eighteen inches high will
guard him securely from the strength of a storm. A common mistake of a
novice lies in selecting a tree for his camping-place, which spreads out
nobly above, but affords no other shelter from the wind than that of its
bare stem below.
[Sketch of sleeping man behind wall].
It may be, that as he walks about in search of shelter, a mass of foliage
at the level of his eye, with its broad shadow, attracts him, and as he
stands to the leeward of it it seems snug, and, therefore, without
further reflection, he orders his bed to be spread at the foot of some
tree. But as soon as he lies down on the ground the tree proves worthless
as a screen ag
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