"Providin' it don't rain on you, campin' out is stimulatin' to the body an' soul," said Jarvis. "You don't know what a genuine appetite is until you live under the blue sky by day, and a starry sky by night. Harry, you'll find three tin plates in the locker in the boat. Fetch 'em." Harry abandoned his skillet for a moment, and brought the plates. Ike, the coffee now being about ready, produced three tin cups, and with these simple preparations they began their supper. The flames went down and the fire became a great bed of coals, glowing in the darkness, and making a circle of light, the edges of which touched the boat. Harry found that Jarvis was telling the truth. The long work and the cool night air, without a roof above him, gave him a hunger, the like of which he had not known for a long time. He ate cake after cake of the corn bread and piece after piece of the meat. Jarvis and Ike kept him full company. "Didn't I tell you it was fine?" said Jarvis, stretching his long length and sighing with content. "I feel so good that I'm near bustin' into song." "Then bust," said Harry. "Soft, o'er the fountain, lingering falls the southern moon, Far o'er the mountain breaks the day too soon. In thy dark eyes' splendor, where the warm light loves to dwell, Weary looks yet tender, speak their fond farewell. 'Nita, Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part, 'Nita, Juanita! Lean thou on my heart." The notes of the old melody swelled, and, as before, the deep channel of the river gave them back again in faint and dying echoes. Time and place and the voice of Jarvis, with its haunting quality, threw a spell over Harry. The present rolled away. He was back in the romantic old past, of which he had read so much, with Boone and Kenton and Harrod and the other great forest rangers. The darkness sank down, deeper and heavier. The stars came out presently and twinkled in the blue. Yet it was still dim in the gorge, save where the glowing bed of coals cast a circle of light. The Kentucky, showing a faint tinge of blue, flowed with a soft murmur. Harry and Ike were lying on the grass, propped each on one elbow, while Jarvis, sitting with his back against a small tree, was still singing: "When in thy dreaming, moons like these shall shine again And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain, Wilt thou not, relenting, for thy absent lover sigh? In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by, 'Nita, Juanita, let me linger by thy side; 'Nita, Juanita, be thou my own fair bride." The song ceased and the murmur of the river came more clearly. Harry was drawn deeper and deeper into the old dim past. Lying there in the gorge, with only the river to be seen, the wilderness came back, and the whole land was clothed with the mighty forests. He brought himself back with an effort, when he saw Jarvis looking at him and smiling.