A BOY WHO CAMPED OUT.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 6, 7 February 1907, Page 37

A BOY WHO CAMPED OUT.

My first experience in camping out was the most exciting I ever had, though a big boy, I suppose, would have called, it both tame and funny. But I was only ten years old then, and my brother Proctor, who was really the hero of the adventure, was only eight. There was only one other boy with us, Freddie Childs, our next-door neighbor, and he was the oldest of all, for he was going on for twelve.

We camped on father's iawn, in a tent made of three sheets. It was a very warm still night in summer, and mother had made us a nice bed on the gnojund w'ltih a rubbeo: bJanket and an old matftreys and some comforters, sheets, and pillows. Father had put up the tent, and it was just as fight and comfortable as a real tent in the woods. If we hadn't known thai we were in it, we ought to have slept just as soundly as in our own beds upstairs. But we didn't, somehow, and that was the funny and exciting part of it.

We ate our supper on an old box in the tent at half-past six o'clock, and then we played Indians until ei'ghit, when mother came outi and helped Proctor to u«dress ami get to bed. She lit a candle for us ; and after she had gone in, Freddie and I undressed, blew out the candle, and crawled under the bJanke,tsi. By and by I asked, ' Freddie, are you asleep ? ' ' No,' said he, in a kind of faint voice. 4 Are you sleepy ? '

'Do you suppose anything would touch us here in the right if we should go to sleep ? ' I asked. ' I 'dlutonQ!, ' Freddie. He lay stijl for a minute, and then said, "What I'm afraid of is catching cold. I guess I'd better go home and get some of those little homoeopathic pills of ma's to take if I feel a cold comin' on in the night.'

Freddie crawled out, lit the candle, and put on- his clothes.

' Come back soon, Freddie,' said Proctor. Freddie pushed back the flap of the tent. "* Ulw uh ! ' he said, and then he was gone. We heard him walking kind of fast until he climbed the fence; then he ran like anything -through the grass. I guess' he didn't know how well we could hear with our ears so close to the ground. We watched and. waited for him to come back, but he didn';t came. '=. It seemed kind of scary for just two to be out there all alone in the night. • But, somehow, Proctor didn't seem to mind it as much as I did. By and by .there came an awful yell from somewhere out in the dark. I "knew it was cats, and yet, somehow, I couldn't quite believe it. It might have been' a panther escaped from a circus, or a lynx, or something of that sort. • Proctor ! * I whispered. ' Yes,' answered Proctor.

' I believe I'm catching cold, too,-; aren't you ? ' INo ; I'm warm as toast.' \ • 'Now,, look here, you 1 little foolish,'. I cried. ' I know it ain't . safe for us to -lie here so close to the praund all. night. If we don't catch cold,, we'll get the rheumatism, sure as the world. I'm going foadk'to the house.'

' 'Fraid cat ! ' said my little brother. I suppose I was really too nervous and frightened -to get angry at him. I only got up - ana hurried

into my clothes, coughing and trying to sneeze all the time, though it was so hot and close in the tent that the sweat ran off the end of my nose. ' When - 1 'thought I had enough clothes on,' l grabbed the rest as fast as I could, and blew out' Hie candle. 'There, Smarty,' cried I, as I was bolting out of the tent, ' you can star here all alone, and see how- you like Mother and father were reading ~ : in the . parlor when' I sneaked into thje hjouse, ajnd said Utiat I' was afraid I was going to catch cold out there. "They both laughed until they cried. ' Where's little Proctor ? ' asked mother, when she could get her breath. •He's out there,' said I in^a sulk. « And Freddie Childs ? ' asked fatner. ' Gone home. Backed out 'fore. I did.' •What"! Proctor out there all alonC? ' cried mother, jumping up. ' Yes'm. He felt so smart he wouldn't come in?' Mother lit a lamp and went out. to " the tentr The ■ajir was so still it did njot qvejn toss -the-flamei of the lamp. I watched from the window, and saw her come back without Proctor. 'He won't come! ' she said, with a kind of shining eyes. • Good • for him ! ' cried father; ' He's got some grit.' • •■ < 'But what are we going to do about it ?' asked mother. 'Do ? I'll go out and camp with him myself ! ' exclaimed father. And that was^ the way Proctor happened to stay. I've often wondered whether he would all alone. But it taught me a lesson in self-control, not to give • way to every foolish notion that enters one's head, without slopping to reason it out.- 'That's -what" makes the habit of cowardice. — Exchange.