Roy Lillian Elizabeth

The Woodcraft Girls at Camp


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intelligence!" said Miss Miller.

      "No, and most folks think they are stupid things; why, you know the slang saying, 'crazy as a hen,'" added Nita.

      "Well, they're not! Why, that Groutch wouldn't even go to live in Bill's chicken coop with his flock. No siree! She just sulked about here until Bill had to open the carriage house for her to make her nest again. Then, he cut a small opening near the door so she could get in and out when the door was locked. In the next day or two, Bill missed the other hens from his chicken-house where they had been contented. And what do you think! That sly old hen had gone after them and led them back to their original home – and there they've stayed ever since! Whenever we come down to visit the farm those daffy old hens cluck and wriggle about Fiji's feet as if he were the Prince and they his subjects!"

      "I think that is lovely! To think of those hens showing their joy and recognition that way!" exclaimed Miss Miller, amazed.

      "Daddy says that Fiji has the true Nature instinct, for every animal he meets seems to know him instantly and show a regard for him," added Zan.

      "I have always wished that I had that great gift! It can be cultivated with great sincerity and love for Nature, but some are gifted with it unconsciously!" sighed Miss Miller.

      The four girls had listened to Zan's tale with wonderment, and as Miss Miller remembered the breakfast, and said it was waiting, Jane said, "We should have missed this in the Adirondacks."

      "I see many beauties we would have missed had we gone far off to the mountains! One of them is the lowly and silent lesson under Elena's feet," said Miss Miller.

      All eyes looked down at the floor but saw nothing beside the braided mat. Miss Miller smiled and ran down-stairs without vouchsafing an explanation.

      "Miss Miller certainly does puzzle me until she deigns to explain – then it all seems plain as day!" said Hilda.

      But further talk was interrupted by a delighted cry from the front porch. The five girls hurried down and joined their teacher on the porch.

      "Why – strawberries! How did they get here?" cried some of the girls.

      "A note on top of one box said that Mrs. Sherwood sent them over for our breakfast – if we had not finished already!" laughed Miss Miller, looking at her watch.

      "It must be almost eight o'clock!" ventured Nita.

      "No, it is five to six!" replied Miss Miller.

      "Six – why it feels like noon!" said Jane.

      "That's because the air is so invigorating," returned Zan. "We always have to get up early in the country, and that gives you such a long, long day to enjoy!"

      "I suppose Sherwoods rise at four," Miss Miller said.

      "Dear no! Why four o'clock is almost midnight! Why should any one wish to get up at that dreadful hour!" cried Nita, horror-struck at such habits.

      "Because country folks retire with the sun and rise with it – that's what all true Indians do, and so will we presently," said Miss Miller, smiling at the various expressions on the faces about her.

      "Come now, we'll hull the berries and then enjoy them!" and in a few minutes every one was engaged in crushing the ripe fruit in a deep dish of rich cream – real unadulterated cream!

      When the dishes had been washed and placed in the closet Miss Miller advised each one to unpack what baggage had been brought by hand the day before. The clothes worn on the journey down to the farm were to be carefully hung in the closets upstairs and the ordinary gymnasium uniforms worn until their costumes were completed.

      "Our next step will be to choose a permanent site for our tents, and try to move the articles we need from the barn to the woods," said Miss Miller.

      "Can't we ask Bill Sherwood to do that? It's so warm to-day," cried Nita, peevishly.

      "If Bill were not here, who would you have do it?" asked the teacher.

      "Hire some one else, I s'pose," muttered Nita.

      "I wonder what you would have done if we had gone to the wild mountains for our first experiment, as you wanted us to," asked Zan, curiously.

      "Oh, that would have been different. We'd have to do our share there, you know, or go without," replied Nita.

      "That is exactly what we intend doing here – work or go without!" said Miss Miller, emphatically.

      "But that tramp across the fields and woods to move the bedding and other stuff! Phew, Miss Miller, do you realise what a herculean task that means?" replied Nita, dismayed.

      "It gets worse every minute we stand here and worry over it!" laughed Zan.

      Without further ado, Zan, followed by Miss Miller and all of the girls excepting Nita, went toward the barns where the boys' tents and outfits were stored. They were soon thrown out of the wide hay-loft window and due inspection given them to test their worth for usage.

      "Girls, has either one of you thought of a possible way to carry these outfits over to the Bluff without exerting yourselves too much?" asked Miss Miller, when the girls stood ready to shoulder their burdens.

      They looked at each other for an answer. None came. Finally, Jane looked at the teacher and laughingly remarked, "One of your think-right schemes?"

      Miss Miller nodded and smiled. "How did you know?"

      Jane was dumb, as she had merely thought of teasing Miss Miller and was taken aback at her reply.

      "Is it possible that Zan hasn't an inkling of what to do in this case – and she is a country girl?" added Miss Miller.

      No one seemed inspired with original thought that morning, so the teacher started for the woods, carrying her burden.

      "Wait a minute, Miss Miller!" shouted Hilda. "Give us time to figure this out, and save our backs!"

      Every one laughed, still no one could solve the way to move without doing the moving. Again the teacher sighed and said, "When one won't think, one must pay the price!"

      This time each girl shouldered as much of the outfit as could be comfortably carried, and followed in the footsteps of the teacher, who was at least twenty feet in advance.

      At the Bluff, the heavy luggage was dropped with sighs of relief. Miss Miller left the girls to either think or go back for the rest of the canvas and cots.

      "I am going down to Bill's for the stuff that came out by express a few days ago. The cases are down in the Sherwood's barn. Bill offered to open them and help me take the stuff out. While you girls see that the other things are moved over here I will attend to moving up the new things." With this the teacher started down the slope.

      "Hey! Miss Miller, won't you tell us the secret in moving without moving?" laughed Zan, catching hold of the teacher's short skirt as she passed.

      "I find that a child that depends upon the mother to help it out of difficulties never advances like the one who has to work his own problems. I believe that one reason our city newsboys are so clever is just because they must depend upon their own wits. It puts a sharp edge on wits – using them for oneself."

      As soon as the teacher had disappeared about the corner of Sherwood's cottage, Zan suggested a plot to trap her. The other girls laughed merrily and jumped up to follow Zan into the woods.

      The boxes and bales at Bill's barn were soon unpacked and Bill stood up wiping his brow with a red bandanna. He took a calculating glance at the steep slope and remarked, "Some haul!"

      "Oh, not for a strong plough-horse that has been idle for two days!" replied Miss Miller, innocently.

      Bill flushed and his eyes shot fire as he said, "Meanin' jus' what, ma'am?"

      "Why, you told me how Nancy ate her head off since the family were not coming down and no extra work could be found for the horse to do. I thought she could drag these things up to the Bluff for us," replied Miss Miller, finding it hard to control a strong inclination to laugh.

      The farmer's face underwent a sudden change as he smiled broadly and replied, "Oh, ya'as-sam! Of course! Nancy is a powerful