CHRISTMAS IN CAMP

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 233, 21 December 1927, Page 6

CHRISTMAS IN CAMP

FIRST PRIZE (Scouts). The tenderfoot gazed disconsolately about him. Yet there was nothing jr the vicinity to account for his gloomi ness, for, in truth, the scene was fair on< s eould be wished f or Nestling against a grass-covered hili was a neat little row of white tents fresh and bright against the green of the world about them and the azure blue *of the sky. A thin wisp of smoke curled lazily from the glowing Before him stretched the undulating hills of pasure-land, broken occasionally by a silvery stream of bush -clad valley. Over the rough track Scouts, cheerful, though hot, dr j the trek-cart of provisions. Without interest he watched then reach the camp kitchen, unload, aiij straggle over to rest in the shade besidv him. “Why the gaze of excessive sadness O conqueror of the wilderness?” laughed his Patrol Leader. “It's this Christmas in camp.” mourn, fully explained he. “How can you have a decent Christmas out here?” He was thinking longingly of the splendid dir. ner his brothers and sisters would have on the morrow in that far-off home and how they would enjoy themselves at games. Camp was excellent fun, but —not at Christmas! The Leader winked solemnly at the others. “If we don't have a jollier time here, feed and all, then it won’t be due to lack of effort,” he declared. “Never,” groaned the tenderfoot* “think of roast laipb and Christmas pudding! ” From that time forth, the culinary experts, aided by a strong guard, sternly and repeatedly repulsed all attempts to solve the mysterious preparations' which ensued. The rest were displaying a lively in. terest in all proceedings, but not so the tenderfoot. Bismally he wandered round, fixing a melanchaly eye on the festive games of the day. Christmas Hay dawned clear and fine, and part of his moodiness vanished, bn:, when the dinner in all its glories lay before them, he became a different man. After a short grace, they fell to, and disposed quickly of the rich, brown soup. This was followed by locallycaught eel and trout which went the way of the soup. He then gazed with amazement upon the steaming net masterpiece— roast duck, stuffed with gravy and four vegetables! “Had all this,” he asked himself, “been possible in camp?” As loud and wild as the rest were hi? cheers when the huge, speckled pudding appeared, carried by a triumphant Santa Claus! In a few moments tha pudding wasn’t worth looking at, anti there, behold, was the transformed lad, an absurd paper cap on his head, joining in the gay and jolly games as enthusiastically and wildly as any! Who does not believe in the powers of plum pudding and sauce! The remaining days of the camp sped by all too quickly. They swam, sported, fished, scouted and played as they had never done before. At last, browned by sun and air, and glowing with health and vigour, they stepped once more into the traces of the bright trekcart. For one moment they gazed at the spot where they had held their jolliest camp. “Who says you can’t spend a jolly Christmas in camp?” shouted someone. “The proof of the pudding’s in the eating,” said the tenderfoot, smiling happily. —BEAVER HUNTER