Evening Star Newspaper, July 29, 1923, Page 53

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Part 5—8 Pages MAGAZI el D. C, NE WASHINGTON, SUNDAY SECTION P MORNING, JULY 29, 1923. Hitting the Jungle Trail With Epicurean Henri and His Caravan The author, who had resolved to tAmp over- nd from Oambodis and across Siam to Bang- ok, after his money had been stolen from in Saigon. Cochin-Chins, bad fomdly taken leave of his lively companion, an Italisn poet. The post. who {n bidding Him & protracted farowoll, " had unexpectedly been carried i land with him on a river steamer to Pne Penh, had now returned to Saigon. He wi commissioned by the suthor to'use the stul of his original stoamskip ticket to Bangkok, Which the company had sgreed te honor. He Tyt Prooesd to that city and take charre ‘author's lugg: remaining funds— - Sehich had been earried &way by thetr voacel ‘when the pair had been knocked in the d and robbed while ashore at Saigon. He W to await the author at Bangkok. BY HARRY L. FOSTER. HERE was nothing to do but hit the trail—provided there was a trall to hit. Another river steamer— smaller and dirtier than the first— ried me up a swamp-lined stream which was narrower t the Mekong, and across the great lake of Cam- bodia, n immense shallow pool in the heart of the Indo-Chinese swamps, where no dry land could be seen on any side, and where palms grew up out of the water and whole villages of thatched houses floated upon rafts, So far as 1 had been able to ascer- tain in Pnom Penh, this vessel was to me to a town called Battam- bang, where the trail—if trail there war—began, But at daybreak of the second day, having crossed the lake, we anchored beside a mud bank topped by a dozen nipa-thatched huts, and an Annamite steward bundled me dilapidated launch. chloop partir!” he exclaimed on French. “But where does it partir to?" He waved his hand in the direction of & small brook that led into the Jungle, though this was all 1 necded to know. Another Annamite turned the fly-wheel, the engine com- menced to chug, and away I went, wondering where I was going. ‘The brook twlisted about through an inundated forest of scraggly brush 80 thickly covered with climbing vines that the brush itself was fre- quently hidden It was a snaky look- ing region The stream wound here and there in serpentine figures; the brush was gnarled and twisted; even the occasional tre which towered above the lower vegetation sent out 1ong, shiny roots that coiled through muck like reptiles. Cranes stcod in the shallow water with one long leg poked out behind them. Pelicans rose in flocks at our noisy approach, to flee before us with a prodigious flapping of wings that seemed scarcely strong enough to propel their big. lumbering bodies. DID not go Lily pads * % x we clogged the propeller, and we rame to a stop. A walting sampan 1id alongs and T was bundled into it. “Now, thing Ty in far. where in thunder this ing to take me?" J demanded. My fellow passengers, a family and several Cambodian sol- dlers n khaki coats and plald skirts, listened to the words without under standing, chattered among them- selves about me, and giggled shrilly. A native boatman leaned upon his pole, and away 1 went again, still wondering. The sampan affair, with nipathateh ships. Its progress was painfully slow. Hour after hour we crawled along. Sometimes the boatmen poled, some- times they rowed, sometimes when a patch bordered the stream they walked along the shore and towed us with a rope. 1 Cane-dwellings became more fre- quent, until they bordered upon the river llke houses upon a street. A Chinese fellow-passenger, who evi- dently was a merchant of wealth as indicated by the fact that his wife wore socks, owned a watch, and by first pointing upstream and then at . the chronometer, I managed to in- quire when we might reach our destination. At length, banana trees began to replace the jungle grass, the towpath widened into a road, and the thatched huts became more numerous. And finally —unmistakable sign of our approach to clvilization—there appeared upon the road a dilapidated hack with a native coachman on the box and two diminutive ponies between the shafts. The Chinaman halled it, packed his wite into one seat, and motioned me was a long, slender a barrel-shaped roof of forming @ cabin amid- cocoanut palms and 4into the other. In pursuance of my increasingly rigld program of econo- my, I should have declined it, but just then T spied a native shop beside the road with bananas for sale: I offered the shopkeeper a ten-centime plece, wondering whether he would cry for help if I took a whole bunch in ex- change, and instead of creating a scena he calmly handed me two addi- lonal bunches. Elated with the dis- o that I was beyond the trail of tourist and that the brown men “here had not learned to.overcharge: Chinese | the white, T leaped into the coach. The Chinaman bowed, and away 1 went again with his wife, T was somewhat puzzled. made me a present of her? sampan she aged; now Had he On the had appeared middle- she began to look sus- piciously young. Furthermore, she was laden with cooking utensils, a bag of flour, and blankets, and the whole ensemble resembled a family camping outfit. We looked as though we were just coming in from a pro- longed picnic in the woods some- where, and 1T had a moment of mis- giving as I pictured myself riding into town in this fashion. But the bananas cheered me considerably, and strewing the peelings behind me T went galloping along in the nickety odch beneath the palm trees toward what 1 hoped was Battambang. My usual luck prevailed. The lady | 1eft me upon the edge of town. The driver carried me into town. The {town proved to be Battambang. And from Battambang there was a trail— at least as far as the Chinese border. He was *x k¥ I\' Battambang I met Henri. otherwise . known as Monsieur Henrl Lesseur, Surveillant et Inspec- teur des,Postes et des Telegraphes de Cambodge. Once each year, or every other Yyear, or every year after that, or whenever be got ready, it was his duty to inspect a telegraph line which ran through the jungle to a French garrison on the Siamese fron- | tier. By sheet, blind good fortune, T landed in Battambang just as Henri Was preparing to start, and was in- vited to join him. “Of course,” he explained, “mon- sieur must be prepared to rough it As I was very nearlg broke by this time, 1 was quite expecting to do something of that sort. Henrl himself, after the manner of a Frenchman, had prepared by don- ning a neat little khakl suit, with trousers creased like razor blades, and with a hunting coat tastily cut to a fogm-fitting walst and a skirt- like fla‘ beneath. Having manicured his naif and had his boots polished, wak' now waiting only for the French resident to finish celebrating Christmas and supply him with eight or nine ox-carts to carry his personal baggage and thirty or forty native servants to minister to his comfort on the road. We waited together. At length, early one morning Henri's caravan lined up in the road. It looked like a circus parade. The corps of servants included Tonkingese, Annamites, Cambodians, Laos and what not—natives in blue pajamas, or pink pajamas, or no pa- jamas at all—natives in topees, others with towels wrapped around | their heads, others carrying paper | umbrellas—lady cooks and bottle washers with blackened teeth and | betel-stained lips—yellow men, brown | men, black men—men with pants and |no coats; men with coats and no { pants—all barefoot except the chief icook. who rode like a queen in the | leading ox-cart and carried her shoes in her hand, partly to avoid the dis- {comfort of wearing them, and partly to display her pink heels, which are considered a special mark of beauty among the Cambodians. It was an astounding crew of ox- drivers and assistant ox-drivers, gun- bearers and assistant gun-bearers, custodians of the folding bathtub and “IT WAS AMERICA VERSUS FRANCE, AND I WAS‘FORCED TO FOLLOW HIM.” assistant custodians, and behind them were the ox-carts, a long train of them drawn by lumbering oxen and water buffaloes, bringing crate after crate of vin rouge and vin blane, cog- nac and champagne, with big slabs of ice packed in sawdust, folding cots, folding chairs, folding tables and a library full of Henri's books. The only reason that the equipment dld not include a piano was that Henr! was not a musician. Bo this was roughing it! Henri and I took our positions at the head of the column. “Marchon!” commanded Henri. ‘Two semi-naked brown boys came to hold umbrelias over our heads to shelter us from the sun; a third fell 1into line with a thermos bottle full of soda water; and off we marched. * X x x HE road led out from the town across a brown plain covered with the parched stubble of dried rice flelds, where the water buffaloes stared at us curiously and the native tollers looked up.from their work to doff their conical straw hats in respectful salute, It was a wide road—wide and-long a and extremely dusty. The sand upon it was two inches thick. The sun poured down upon us. Per- spiration oozed from our foreheads and trickled Into our eyes and left a salty taste about the lips. Henrl's shoes lost their polish. He be- gan to plod determinedly, with a set expression upon his face. T was just beginning to feel that we were rough- ing it, after all Then we stopped at a native vil- |lage for lunch. Out of the wagons came tables and chairs, ice and wine, and Henri, seating himself ke a king beneath an awnjng which his servants crected above us, invited me to @ cooling drink. I looked at him, and could not help feeling as 1 had felt in France when first T looked at the French officers all dressed up be- hind the lines in skin-tight scarlet breeches. We dined in state, with several courses served by several servants. I felt like a royal guest. sitting there in the jungle beneath a canopy, and sipping fced wine. The villagers came to us to pay court, telling Henrl through his Annamite Inter- preter of a man-eating tiger which had been prowling about the vicinity, and which, not ten days before, had snatched an Infant from one of the thatched homes. Henri listened to the tale, shrug- of vin rouge, and asked quletly “Where does that tiger live? 1 repressed a chuckle. He reminded me somehow of the mouse that fell into a rum barrel, and climbed out to inquire, “Where's that cat that's lookin® for me?” But Henri meant business. He call- ed for his tiger gun. It seems that he carrled a regular-arsenal, onc gun forelephants,one gun for rhinoceroses, one gun for tigers, one gun for birds, as many as a dozen. Repressing my impulse to ask him what he'd do If an, elephant chased him while he had the rhinoceros gun, T followed him into the jungle, as did the rest of the villagers and servants, to witness the thrilling encounter. The natives led us through a thicket of wild cane, and Indicated a cave half-way up a hundred-foot cliff. How any tiger ever reached it with- out wings was more than I could imagine, but Henri asked no questions. Straight up the cliff he went. The cliff itself went straight up, with only a few spongy-looking holes where the limestone had crumbled, and, which afforded but & poor foothold. Henri climbed with toes and fingers, but he went. * % k% T was a ridiculous thing to do, but 1 couldn't stand below and watch a little dude like Henri fight the tiger alone. So up I started after him. It was not an easy climb. We would et half way up to the cave, only to discover that we must retrace our steps and ascend by another route. I slipped and fell, dug my nalls into snother crevice, and kept on climbing. It was America versus France, and the little Frenchman kept on going, and I was forced to follow him. He found his rifie an impediment, and left it behind, trying again with only a small revolver. Personally, I was not enthusiastic about facing the tiger with only that small weapon, but Henri was digging his toes into the cliff, and pulling himgelf from ledge to ledge above me, and up I went again. And finally, when I could get no farther, Henrl reached the top—not only reached it, ‘but oftered me his hand and pulled me after him—and when I struggled over the edge, disheveled and covered ‘with dirt, there he stood, as neat and dudelike #s ever, calmly manicuring his nails with & manicure set which he always carrled in his pocket. And, much to my rellef, the tiger wag not at home. Henr{ led the way back to town, seated himself beneath his awning, and opened a bottle of champagne. But T looked at him ‘now as I had looked at those scarlet-trousered French officers after seeing them march debonairely into Verdun, Henrl ‘was a He-Man. And in spite of the luxuries which Henri provided, the journey was by no means a pienic. > ‘We ascended steadily from the swampy lake region of central Cam- bodia into & country that grew dryer and dustier. The parched jungle- growth became wilder, the thatched villages less frequent. It was a hot, fatiguing hike for every one con- cerned. Even the dogs, at the end of a day’s march, would stretch out fiat' upon their backs in a most un-dogy like posture, their feet pointing sky- ward, their tongues hanging -from their panting mouths. Onoe a buf- falo fell in its tracks in an epfleptio fit, frothing at the mouth. ‘We arrived at a government shelter, ‘whera. the pative servants, ehining with sweat from their walk, quickly built fires of dried cocoanut husks. Henrl's iced drinks made their ap- pearance, and lamps and cots and bedding came out of the wagons. From a thatched hut across the road there came the sound of music—a squeaking Chinese fiddle, a clacking homemade xylophone, and a barbaric tomtom. The villagers, it seemed, were entertaining Henri's servants with a booze party of their own. After our supper, we strolled ovér to see it. The tropic night had fallen swiftly, but two or three tallow candles HIu‘"\\nn'v-d the interior of “HENRI AND I TOOK OUR POSITIO ged his shoulders, drank another p|nt‘lhe hut, shedding a weird, fgint light upon @ wild-looking mass of haif- naked- humanity. In the center a man was dancing. He danced entirely with his arms. They represented serpents. He twined them slowly about himsclf to the rhythmic beat of the tomtom, while the hands twisted and surned upon the wrists as serpents might twist their heads. It was fascinating. ‘The man himself was so carried away with his own pantomime that he sazed with genuine horror at his ser- pentine hands. He was the charmed victim of two polsonous reptiles, fore- seeing his fate, yet powerless to es- cape, Slowly the arms crept closer, the hands twisting and twining more rapidly, circling about his neck, drawing back as though about to strike. The tomtom changed fits rhythm. Its note became ominous. The perpents struck. The man, trembling with pain. made a last effort to escape. They struck again. The man's face became contorted with agony. He fell to the ground, writhed and struggled, and finally— to the ruination of the whole artistic effect—flopped up and down like a newly beheaded chicken. * * X ¥ HE music stopped. The specta- tors applauded with loud shouts. Some one saw Henri and myself in the doorway, and the festivities haited. The chiet of the viilage, an aged brown man with gray, goatlike tufts of sparse beard upon his chin, lowered himself upon his knees, and bumped his head three times upon the cane floor in salute. In pigeon- French he bade us-welcome, but It was evident that our presence em- barrassed the natives, and Henri, giving the chiet a plastre wher with to treag the crowd, led the way back to our shelter. Behind us the sound of merriment increased again, swelling in volume as the party became an orgy. Henri Seeker for Adventure in Siam Has Fortunate Meeting With Frenchman of Regal Habits, and They Travel Together Through the Realm of the Tiger—Maintaining the Honor of the ations While the Sun Parches the Land—Honors Are Even in the Race—Secking a Man- Zater in Its Reputed Refuge—Dance of the Serpents L road, ‘the dogs would bristle and snarl, and Henri, calling again for his tiger gun, would lead the way through the bamboo thickets or the high grass In search of big game. But we ncver encountered anything. One night we built a platform in a tree-top and set our bait in the form of a dead pig, a pig which had been dead for so long that any tiger with- in a hundred miles should have de- tected it, but although we sat on the platforifi above it all night, holding our noses, we attracted nothing but mosquitoes.- The tiger, like any other wild ani- mal, ls born with a fear of man, and becomes a man-eater by accident, rather than by design. Beginning by stumbling upon domestic cattle in the nelghborhood of a village, and discovering that they are much easter to catch than the wild animals, he begins to frequent the outskirts of the village, and some day when S AT THE HEAD OF THE COLUMN.” summoned his head man, and had his rifies’ and ammunition placed in his own room beside his cot. Beneath the humility ‘of these cringing people of Indo-China, who kowtow to thelr French conquerers, 1 had perceived something in the slanting orlental eves that strangely resembled a long- supressed hatred, and I understood the care with which he bolted our doors, and tied the two dogs,just out- side. Day after day we hiked through the brown wilderness, setting out be- fore sunrise, halting for two or three hours in the middle of the hot day, and arriving at nightfall at another thatched shelter. Henri and 1 both took pride in concealing our fatigue. At lunch or dinner, we were friends; on the road we were rivals, The path narrowed until it became barely wide enough for the carts, with a tangle of vines or brush on elther side, As we hiked along we could hear things creeping out of sight before us. Once I barely avoided stepping upon a slender snake which shot across beneath my feet like an ani- mated thread. Twice we saw animals cross the trail ahead, reddish-gray animals that disappeared too quickly to be identified—panthers perhaps. s we lunched upon the domestic cattle do not seem plentiful, and hunger makes him desperate, he pounces upon some unsuspecting native. Discovering also that the dreaded humans are not only tender and deiiclous, but an extremely easy prey, the tiger becomes a source of terror to the“entire neighborhood. A tiger had been known to steal a child from one town in the early eve- ning, and then to pounce upon another infant in a town five or six miles dis- tant just a few hours later. The beast travels so quickly, and roams so ex- tensively, that the villagers every- where must always be on guard. All of the huts along the trall, like the government shelter in which we slept, were perched for protection upon high stilts. Partly because of the strength and ferocity of the tiger, and parfly be- cause of his miraculous habit of ap- pearing where he is least expected, the natives regard him with a supersti- tious awe, and will never mention the word “tiger,” belleving that in some supernatural way tHe beast will hear his name and will slay the man who pronounces it. * % ok K 'HEN Henrl's interpreter spoke of W the beast, he would always refer to him in some roundabout way, using a pronoun, or speaking of “The Mighty One.” But since “The Mighty One” seldom N ; LAGERS:CAME TO-PAY US'COURT; TELLING HENRI OF*A MAN:EATING TIGER.IN-THE ey 0 W appears where he is sought, our efforts at hunting were fruitiess. The only game we shot consisted of birds, which usually perched upon the tops of the bamboo and when shot, fell among the thorns, where they could not be recovered, necessitating an unmerciful and ihuman slaughter before we could finally obtain enough to make a meal. Henri was a most considerate host. Although I had started out as a vaga- bond, I found myself treated as an honored guest. With the hospitality and courtesy of the true French gen- tleman, he was constantly anticipating my wants. “Monsieur would prefer the chicken well done? Here, madame, fry Monsleur Fostair's chicken again.” And after dinner, “Monsieur would write his impressions? Here, b bring Monsieur Fostair's notebook.” I liked and admired Henri, but as we hiked day after day, our athletic rival- ry increased; 1 began to watch him from the corner of my eye for signs of | weakening, and sometimes caught him watching me In the same way. Our halts to rest became farther and far- ther between. Nelther of us would a low the other any satisfaction by sug- gesting a halt. And one evening, the last evening before we expected to reach Pailin, our destination, we came to & village beside a river, a real river, with water in it instead of the usual mud puddles. We stripped and took a bath and during the bath I not only outswam him, but could throw stones across and hit a tree on the opposite bank when he could throw but halfway across. That evened up his lead as a cliff-scaler, and when we hit the trall upon the following morning, we were both out for blood, A tropical shower fell during the nighty the first in many weeks, and the road that morning was a bed of muck. Travel In this region, unpleas- ant enough in the dry season, was almost impossible after a rain. The ox-carts became lodged in the mire, and we left them behind. The mud clung in round balls upon the heels of our shoes, and our feet were as heavy as lead, but we kept on and on, each slowly Increasing the pace. The sun came out, hotter than ever before, blazing like an inferno. It seemed to pierce straight through the half-inch of cork in our helmets. Tt burned through our clothing and left blisters upon the skin. It heated the faint breeze and made it a blast from the door of hades. It dried the muck, but left it crumbly, so that the un- even ruts upon which we trod would fall beneath our feet and send us sprawling upon the ground. The dogs, which had started out with us, dropped behind. The um- brella-bearers and the canteen-bearer lagged. and disappeared. Hour after hour passed. I became footsore. 1 could feel throbbing in my temples. T glanced at Henrl. His little black moustache was Grooping, and his mouth was set in a firm line. The veins stood ofit upon his forchead. Sweat poured from his face and neck, and trickled over his once spotless clothing, leaving stains. The sun mounted higher until it was straight above us. We had already been tramping for six houss withawt a break, but Henrl showed %o sign of stopping. 1 increased the pace, and he lengthened his own stride. And then we turned a bend. Before us stood an Isolated thatch- ed hut with a shady porch. In mutual surrender we staggered toward it, dropped upon its bamboo floor, and collapsed. Honors were even. (Copyright, “£23.) At Camp Roosevelt With D. C. Scouts BY F. M. VAN NATTER. T 1S 6:30. A bright, plercing sun has broken well above the east- ern horizon of Chesapeake bay. One hundred and fifty bovs are sleeping soundly in two long rows of tents nestled among & mass of trees, while all about scores of birds are singing, keeping in perfect unison with the swish-swash-slap of the in- coming tide as it breaks on the firm, sand beach. Crash, boom! A small homemade cannon speaks, followed at once by & bugle announcing sharply that an- other day In Camp Roosevelt, the Dis- trict of Columbia Boy Scouts’ summer camp, has begun. Ten minutes later the bugle sounds once more, and from out of the tents come scurrying tow-headed, black- headed, red-headed boys, some in com- plete scout uniforms, some in merely breeches and some in only pajamas and “nighties”"—but all rubbing their eves, yawning, stretching and jab- bering. The bovs straggle and jostle into line and stand at attention while the bugle plays “To the Colors” as Old Glory is.reverently holsted by two other boys to her commanding posi- tion at the top of a high flagpole. A fow remarks, by way of announce- ments for the day, are made by the camp director, Linn C. Drake, and im- | mediately afterward H. B. Holbrook, camp athletic director and quarter- master, proceeds o put these half- awake boys through five minutes of vigorous setting-up exercises. With Mr. Holbrook's command, “Dismissed!” most of these lively lit- tle rascals scamper away, tumbling, velling and shoving one another, for their morning dip in the bay. . It 1s scarcely necessary to mention that these same young fellows have an appétite whetted to such an edge that they wholly forget to ask for or even indicate a desire for anything in particular to eat at breakfast, but pitch right in, after grace has been sald by a member of the headquarters staff, and eat most heartily. Camp Roosevelt i3 a tract of fifty- six acres, covered by a dense tangle of trees, shrubbery and underbrush. In fact, & more wild, a more primitive plece of land can be found hardly anywhere and most certainly not a more ideal one for a boys' summer gamp. Here, overlooking as it does Calvert clifts, a point on Chesapeake bay four miles south of Chesapeake Beach, are to be found in the greatest abundance both plant and bird life. ‘Well known biologists, such as Dr. Paul Bartsch of the Smithsonian In- stitution, come out here to ramble about, leading parties of scouts, to in- vestigate and record certain phenom- ena of nature. At present Dr. Bartsch is making a series of motion pictures, showing the methods of housekeep- ing employed by an osprey in its flat- topped, sun-exposed, eagle-like nest in the top of a dead sycamore tree. An opportunity for nature study at first hand is here offered to the boys at the age of most rapid development. Those people who think a hundreéd and fifty boys thrown together for a week would be nothing more than a yelling, aimless mob have a big surprise in store. At Camp Roosevelt everything moves according to a fixed schedule. Immediately after breakfast there is ‘the cleaning up of the tonts, followed quickly by & minute inspection. The next two hours each boy has te him- sel to work on “points” So many points secure the camp letters, C. R., 300 for red, 6500 for white and 700 for to twelve o'clock fis the period for swimming. . Then comes 12:30 mess, followed by a long rest period, then perhaps next a game or an athletic meet, and again swimming from 4 to b, and at last the evening mess, when, as before all meals, the boys must walk past a camp assistant to prove to his stisfaction that their hands, faces and hair are clean enough to go to the table. Retreat, coming’ at once after the evening mess, finds the boys again standing at attention while Old Glory is slowly lowered to the sounding of “To the Color: “But how is it managed to keep such a group of live boys from all sorts of mischief?" you naturally ask. The only answer Is the “point sys- tem.” This, in brief, conslsts of a certain number of points for the sat- istactory completion of a task in one of the following divisions: Patriotism, such as histery of the American flag, giving the biography of ten great Americans, ten points; nature study, classifying several plants and birds, twenty points; swimming, boat rowing, fishing, etc., down through a long list, comprising woodcraft, radio, throwing the lasso and general scout craft. I a scout's days are filled, his nights are as well occupled. For Monday night ofi the sandy beach beside the swishing. slapping sea, a campfire is lighted and tha rookies or newcomers in camp that day (Monday is the day the scouts of the week before leave and nev: ones for the succeeding week arrive from Chesapeake Beach on the camp launch) are told the traditions and regulations of the camp. Tuesday night is one of rest from the tired mewness of he camp life. Wednesday is a mystery play— “Come 'n See Anna”—in which ghosts stalk about the campfire. Thursday is the minstrel show made up of the new boys as well as some of the older ones, who put on skits planned by themselves, which always create an uproar. Friday night nds the boys imme- diately after dusk marching silently in single file, as the Indlans are repu- diated to have done, to the ceremonial grounds. There the fire is lighted with flint and steel, as begun years ago at the first camp. Never has there been a match used on those tra- ditlonal grounds. As the smoke bursts into a flame the boys come to attention and, saluting, repeat the scout oath in unison. After the camp letters have been awerded for the week and the “Rough Rider,” a paper exposing all the funny happenings of the week, read around the then dying embers of the huge campfire on the high cliff overlooking the Chesapeake, ghost stores and storles of adventure are told to the eager, intensely inter- ested boys. With the telling of the last one, the embers are scattered and the fire extinguished. Then, as be- fore, the boys return In single file solemnly to camp, never uttering a sound. Saturday night is a gala night for certain of the more fortunate boys. i Those who have been lucky enough to have won their camp letters for |lha week and have made themselves sufficiently popular among their com- rades are invited to join the Clan of the Mystio Oak, a secret organization founded at Camp Roosevelt for tho high purpose of maintaining the proper loyalty to the camp and its leaders of former days. The clan. is a fraternity of the lightest order and so simple that any boy is able to grasp its full purpose. Its ritual, car- ried out in the dead of night within the black shadows of a great weird looking oak tree gituated in the deep woods, while all about in the high treetops katydids keep up a hurdy- gurdy nolse punctuated here und there with the distant who-who-who- 0-0-0 of a screech owl, is sufficient to make a lasting impression on the character of every boy who goes hrough with that solemn initiation— an experience mever to be forgotten. Usually, where there is a large group of boys, e always has the “tummy"” aches This s unheard of at Camp Roosevelt, for a physician, Dr. Oliver Mink, is on duty twenty-four hours a day.. Besides, only food served at mess is permitted in camp, while each boy is allowed, once a dav, immediately after noon mess, to buy 2 whole dime's worth of candy. For those boys especially interested in the mysteries of the deep woods, Fred G. Stuart, camp assistant, spins yarns. Under the careful, efficient guidance of Waldo H. Jones, an ex- pert swimmer and experlenced sailor, swimming, rowing and sailing are taught the boys in barely two and one-half feet of salt-water, covering | a herd sandy floor, e

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