DAY IN CAMP

Tue heat of the stove and the strong, steady sun-
light that fell on the tent released the stored-up
fragrance of the spruce-boughs upon which I lay.
On the stove was a pan of moose-meat stew from
which a savoury smell escaped. Through the open
flap of the tent I could see the sunlight on melting
snow. Under a tree a sleigh-dog lay dreaming.
Camp-robbers fluttered and flopped on nearby
branches; fat, cheeky birds they were, and very
bold.

Travelling had become almost impossible in
these days of warm sunlight, and one must wait
for the evening frost. And so, in drowsy comfort,
I lay listening to the flopping, fluttering whisky-
jacks and the light stirring of the wind. From time
to time I got up to replenish the stove or to add
more snow to the stew, but the day’s bannock was
already made and there was little to interrupt the
lazy drifting of my thoughts:—Telegraph Creek,
not so many miles away now; the sun thawing the
slopes behind it; dogs panting in the sun; the mail-
carrier nearing Telegraph on his last trip; letters;

53