Cookcamp

Even now, his summer in the cookcamp remains with him--the sights and sounds of the men's arduous work, the fun of learning the fine art of spitting, the memory of Grandma by oil lamp writing seven letters, one a night, to his mother in Chicago, letters she intended to mail 'good and hard' from the town thirty miles distant, because of something the boy let slip about life at home while his father was off in the war. The cookcamp became, for a time, the boy's home--and has meant a kind of home for him ever since.