EARLY MORNING 93

oil; no, I'll roll the eiderdowns afterward, while
you're packing the bags. . . .

It was very green outside the tent. Last night's
fire lay grey in the centre of a dark patch on the
grass, with a pile of logs and kindling beside it. A
fringe of tall pink flowers stretched along the bank
between the trees; beyond them ran the pale blue
water of the river, filled with sunlight and edged
with shadows. Our camp site was enclosed by tall
dark spruce that made with their feet a circle of
dew-wet grass and with their sunlit tips a pale blue
circle of sky.

There were two old trees with dead twigs stick-
ing out at right angles from their trunks. One had
frying-pans hung on its twigs; the other had a
towel, a piece of soap and shaving tackle.

Blue water from the river for washing and
breakfast. Moccasins all wet with dew. Fire flicker-
ing, crackling, flaring in the sunlight, and a pan
erowing black in its flame. The smell of bacon
and coffee and pink flowers. Blue smoke of
tobacco; the fragrance of tobacco in the morning
air.

Then the mosquitoes found us, and the dew
dried from tent and grass. Enamel plates and cups
rattled in the wash-pan. Eiderdowns, tent and
boxes were piled one by one on the bank and lifted