s and weaving
in a siding of hemlock boughs.

Lastly, whatever cloth structure you may elect to use for a camp, do
not fail to cover the roof with a screen of green boughs before
building your campfire. Because there will usually be one fellow in
camp who has a penchant for feeding the fire with old mulchy deadwood
and brush, for the fun of watching the blaze and the sparks that are
prone to fly upward; forgetting that the blazing cinders are also prone
to drop downward on the roof of the tent, burning holes in it.

I have spoken of some of the best camps I know. The worst ones are the
A and wall tents, with all closed camps in which one is required to
seclude himself through the hours of sleep in damp and darkness,
utterly cut off from the cheerful, healthful light and warmth of the
campfire.

CHAPTER IV
Campfires And Their Importance--The Wasteful Wrong Way They Are
Usually Made, And The Right Way To Make Them

HARDLY second in importance to a warm, dry camp, is the campfire. In
point of fact, the warmth, dryness and healthfulness of a forest camp
are mainly dependent on the way the fire is managed and kept up. No
asthmatic or consumptive patient ever regained health by dwelling in a
close, damp tent. I once camped for a week in a wall tent, with a
Philadelphia party, and in cold weather. We had a little sheet iron
fiend, called a camp-stove. When well fed with bark, knots and chips,
it would get red hot and, heaven knows, give out heat enough. By the
time we were sound asleep, it would subside; and we would presently
awake with chattering teeth to kindle her up again, take a smoke and a
nip, turn in for another nap--to awaken again half frozen. It was a
poor substitute for the open camp and bright fire. An experience of
fifty years convinces me that a large percentage of the benefit
obtained by invalids from camp life is attributable to the open camp
and well-managed campfire. And the latter is usually handled in a way
that is too sad, too wasteful; in short, badly botched. For instance:

It happened in the summer of '81 that I was making a canoe trip in the
Northern Wilderness, and as Raquette Lake is the largest and about the
most interesting lake in the North Woods, I spent about a week
paddling, fishing, etc. I made my headquarters at Ed Bennett's woodland
hostelry, "Under the Hemlocks." As the hotel was filled with men, women
and crying children, bitten to agony by punkies and mosquitoes, I chose
to spr