The Woodcraft Girls at Camp
"Daddy purchased the place from a well-known American artist," explained Zan, enjoying the appreciation of her friends.
"I don't see how he could bear to part with it – I would want to live here always!" added Miss Miller.
"I say that we choose the Bluff for our camp-site!" cried Nita, going over to the Falls.
"It certainly would be a splendid spot!" added some of the others.
"Well, we'll decide that later – I see Zan wants us to continue," said Miss Miller, as their guide crossed the stream by means of great flat stones.
"The boys and I made this stone crossing – and maybe we didn't have lame backs for a week after we carried these boulders!" said Zan, reminiscently.
For a full hour more, the city girls climbed steep hillsides or stumbled down wild ravines, stubbing toes on hidden rocks and catching unprotected hair in swinging branches, until all began to feel the fatigue of unused muscles and the effect of hard shoes on mother earth. When Miss Miller suggested supper, every one turned face homeward without a regret.
"We will have our ready-made supper that I brought with me in a box, and Zan can find the milk that Bill Sherwood left in the ice-chest," said Miss Miller, as they entered the cool living-room again.
"And I'll go down cellar and fetch some preserves – mother said we could use all we wanted," added Zan.
"O-oh! goody! just think of it – home-made preserves!" said Nita.
"We'll set the table, Zan, if you show us where to find the dishes, and show us the ice-chest. Nita can go down to help you with the preserves, if you like," said Miss Miller, unpacking a large pasteboard box filled with sandwiches, cake and fruit.
Before supper was quite ready the twilight had fallen, making it necessary to have a light.
"My gracious! I never gave a thought as to light! I am so accustomed to pushing the button and having light, that I quite forgot we had no electricity out here," laughed Miss Miller.
"Oh, pshaw! I forgot, too! I just hate to clean lamps and fill them with kerosene – your hands smell so dreadfully forever afterward!" grumbled Zan.
The other girls laughed but then they had never cleaned lampwicks nor had coal-oil soaked into the pores of their hands!
Zan pouted but made no move to find the lamps. Miss Miller felt sorry, for she knew how unpleasant the task could be, so she began to say, "Zan, I'll – " when she suddenly stopped.
She quickly left the room and went out on the porch to admire the soft tones of approaching grey in the night-sky.
"What's the matter?" exclaimed Zan, running after the teacher.
"Why, nothing, dear! I thought I would wait here until you had the lamps ready," returned Miss Miller, keeping a serious face with difficulty.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Zan, reminded of the distasteful work.
As the four other girls had absolutely no knowledge of lamps and their accessories, they could not be expected to offer to attend to them. Zan turned to the teacher and ventured, "I think we can use candles for to-night!"
Miss Miller looked at her charge out of the tail of her eye and bit her lips to keep from laughing.
"I'll go and hunt up some candles. Mother keeps them on the stone ledge of the cellar," sighed Zan, getting up from the step where she had momentarily sat down.
"Of course, I have no jurisdiction over you yet, as we have not formally organised a Lodge, but I know this much!" said Miss Miller, with decision in her voice; "I would not permit one of my Band to shirk a duty if it presented itself, no matter how disagreeable it appeared to be. Cleaning or filling kerosene lamps is not just cleaning and filling lamps for material use. Don't you know that, Zan?"
Zan looked up at her teacher in blank astonishment and her lips parted as if to speak, but she was silent for a moment.
Miss Miller watched her and waited.
"Why, what under the sun would we use lamps for if it were not for light?" exclaimed Zan, finally.
"Oh, as to the use of lamps – that is another thing. Yes, even an inanimate lamp fulfils its purpose well, doesn't it?"
Zan stared off into the darkness and pondered this.
"I se-ee!" whispered Zan, after a silent pause of some moments. "Miss Miller, I thank you!" and she ran indoors singing.
"Thank goodness, I didn't spoil that opportunity by offering to look after the lamps!" breathed Miss Miller, gratefully, to the Principle of right living.
Zan not only worked out her dislike for kerosene that very night, but she cleaned so many of the small glass lamps that the supper table was a twinkling circle of lights. As the girls sat about thoroughly enjoying the first meal in the country, Zan proved to be the gayest of the party. Several times she met the smile in Miss Miller's eyes and felt well rewarded for learning her first lesson in Woodcraft – even if it was the overcoming of distaste of a given duty!
The four other girls were appointed dish-washers but Jane demurred. "It's so dark and we're tired – why can't the dishes wait for morning light!"
"The morning has work of its own – any one who would eat must earn! You may leave the dishes till morning if you choose but then there will be no breakfast for that one who shirks!" said Miss Miller, a suggestion of authority in her tones.
"But we're out for fun! We don't want to have to do things unless we feel like it," argued Jane.
"I suppose you will say, 'the horrid old thing! She's just as mean as she used to be at school,' if I insist and teach you why a task must be done at the time given," ventured Miss Miller.
Jane flushed uncomfortably for she had entertained a faint suggestion of just such a thought about the teacher. But she looked bravely back at the smiling eyes and declared, "No indeed! I wouldn't be so rude as to say such a thing!"
"Did you girls ever stop to consider the power of our thoughts?" asked Miss Miller, beginning to pile the dishes up on a tray.
The girls, sitting comfortably about the table, looked questioningly at her.
Miss Miller had reached the side of the table where Jane's dishes waited. She took up the plate but leaned upon the high back of Jane's chair and continued to speak in a conversational voice.
"Here's something for all of you to experiment on now! See if any one of you can speak, act, or move a certain part of the anatomy, or even breathe, without first thinking the thing!"
Miss Miller stood waiting while the girls sat and gave their attention to the suggestion. After a few minutes of silence, Nita exclaimed, "How queer! I never thought of that before!"
"But, Miss Miller, we do not have to think to breathe! My lungs do that!" cried Zan, her education along medical lines showing in her words.
"Well, much of our physical action is all unconscious on account of generations of habit. But let one part of the organism fail to act, and see what ensues! Now, I have tried to learn how to allow my thoughts to take the helm of steering my human ship, and not let the different parts of my body control me. You see the ME of myself is not in bones, blood, or muscles. Neither is it to be found in my heart, brain, or any local part of this human temple. The ME is my right and ability given by God to express MYSELF. The only way I have found to do this best is by thinking right!"
Miss Miller paused to look around at the faces and see what impression her words had made. Each girl expressed interest; Nita incredulity, Zan amazement, Hilda keen delight, Elena vaguely reaching out for more, Jane intelligent understanding.
"What has all this to do with washing dishes?" asked Nita.
"I am leading up to that; I wish this Band to start at the very beginning to do things right. To do this, we must not do anything thoughtlessly, so the action of our thought on everything about us ought to be thoroughly understood. Anxious thought always produces undesirable effects, just as good, optimistic ones produce harmony and happy results. If one spends anxious thought on the body, or any particular function of the physical organism, that part feels the effect of the quality of thought and responds accordingly."
"But, Miss Miller, you just said we ought to think of our breathing and walking and acting – now you say our thoughts will interfere with those actions!" wondered Elena.
"Perhaps you did not quite get the meaning of my words, dear. I meant to convey to you that no action of the body could take place without YOU – the thinking part of you. When a dead body cannot move, or speak, or breathe, it is not due to anything lacking in bones, flesh, or muscles – they are just the same as in life. It is because the thought that operates and controls the temple is gone. Because functions of the body operate mechanically in response to your thought, I say, let them work freely and without interference just as long as they work harmoniously. But do not give any cause for action to be impeded. Never permit fear to enter your thought, as that instantly clogs the machinery of the body. Never waste valuable thought in wondering how to beautify your face, massaging for wrinkles, or leanness or flesh. That only makes matters worse, for instantly your thought carries its effect to the parts you worry over. Let good health and simple living bring about the desired results, and they will be lasting. But girls, I did not intend to give you all this preaching the first night, only I had to correct Jane's tendency to think wrong about dish-washing."
"Now, Miss Miller, how evasive!" laughed Jane, thinking the teacher was joking. "Dish-washing had nothing to do with your theory on thinking."
"Surely you can't expect me to continue the harangue!" returned Miss Miller, starting for the kitchen with a pile of dishes.
"I want to have you apply the lesson to my particular failure to think right about dish-washing!" laughed Jane, eagerly.
"Yes, yes! We all want to hear just how you can do it!" added the other girls.
"Why, just this, dears. We have had our food to nourish the body that must act at the suggestion of thought, and for this blessing we are grateful; for a weak, or impoverished body does not respond to the command of thought, no matter how willing it may be to act. After filling the receptacle for food one should not give way to lethargy – a common fault and inclination. Lethargy forms fat and soft muscles! Express your thanks to your thought and the benefit food gives the body, by obeying whatever dictates thought gives you for the perfect circulation of conditions. The dish-washing is a natural sequence of events following supper. So, I interpret it that thought has this work for us to do which will be sufficient exercise for us after a light supper. The very sense of having done with apparent duties for the night, will give your thought a comfortable relaxation while you sleep. The nagging idea that some work has been slighted or postponed, even though you may not be conscious of its effect upon you, will, nevertheless, cause a mental shrinkage and this in turn will draw your facial muscles into knots, and also cause unpleasant dreams. One who seeks repose with the sense of having completed all of the day's work with as conscientious application as is possible to him, will always find perfect rest in a sleep that renews one's physical being."
"That's enough for one night!" cried Jane, laughingly, placing her hands over her ears and running out to the kitchen.
Miss Miller and the girls laughed as they followed. In less than a minute's time, Jane had a tin pan down on the table and was pouring hot water from a steaming kettle, over the soiled dishes which she had piled in the pan.
Every one was too tired and sleepy to sit on the porch and watch the moon rise over the hill, or listen to the hum of insects, so, provided with a small lamp, each one stumbled up the steep narrow stairway to the floor above.
Even Miss Miller's enjoyment at seeing old mahogany failed to rouse interest in the carved four-posted beds, or high-boys, and the patch-work quilts seemed merely a light covering for weary bodies, while the gaily colored mats before the beds acted for aching feet, the same purpose any ordinary mat might do.
There were four rooms on the second floor. Two large ones with double beds which were allotted to four of the girls. Zan took her own little room that had a window opening toward the moon, and Miss Miller took the other small room with a single bed in it. Just before the girls dozed off, Miss Miller warned them again that the rising hour was five in the morning.
With this last conscious advice all were soon asleep, some to roam in dreams over the hills and valleys, and some to float in mahogany furniture on the breast of the stream, enjoying the flowers and trees as they were swept past.
CHAPTER THREE
DISCOVERY OF THE "THINKERATOR"
The bright sunshine peered straight into Miss Miller's face in the morning and invited her to listen to the singing of birds, the busy clucking of chickens, and the swish of the pines that stood near her window, at the back of the house.
She leaped from bed and sighed with happiness at the picture of rural beauty before her. But how could the noise of thrifty chickens reach her when Sherwood's cottage was so far away?
"I must investigate!" murmured Miss Miller, as she quickly dressed and crept downstairs. Out of the back door took another minute and she stood on the kitchen stoop looking eagerly about. From the direction of the carriage-sheds came the sound.
"I must call and say good-morning," said the teacher, and forthwith ran along the path until the out-houses were reached.
There, sure enough, was a scolding hen with a dozen chicks misbehaving with all their might, and a few other sedate hens, intent upon breakfast.
"Bill must have brought them over yesterday. I'm glad for the girls' sake, as it will be part of their education – becoming acquainted with all manner of creatures."
Miss Miller cheeped, too, and attracted one of the small yellow balls of down and soon had it cuddled up to her face. The mother-hen, albeit she had been scolding a moment previous, now flew into hysterics at the threatened kidnapping of her chick.
"Poor little mother! Did you think I would rob you of a child?" laughed Miss Miller, as she carefully placed the little chick in the grass. Then, taking a deep breath of fresh morning air, she walked back to the house.
"I suppose the children are tired after yesterday! I must guard myself and not be too critical and severe with them – they are still young and only partially developed, both mind and body!"
She reached the kitchen and started preparations for breakfast. While the cereal was boiling and the kettle singing, she gathered a bouquet of flowers from a roundel on the front lawn. These gave fragrance to the table, and by the time the dishes were all placed, the cereal was cooked.
"High time they were up!" quoth Miss Miller, as she went upstairs to rouse the girls.
But Zan, a true country girl, had been awake for some time and enjoyed the fresh morning breeze from her window.
"Did you make friends with Groutch?" asked she, as Miss Miller smiled a good-morning to her.
"Groutch – who's Groutch?" pondered the teacher.
"Why, the old hen! She's always quarrelling with friends or family, so we named her Groutch," laughed Zan.
"Oh – the hen! I wondered how she got there? Did you see me talking to her?" replied Miss Miller.
Zan laughed delightedly at an opportunity to correct the teacher. "No – I saw you there but heard you talking!"
"One for you, Zan! That casts discredit on my early morning thinking apparatus, doesn't it?" said Miss Miller, laughing at her own expense. "But tell me – did Bill bring the chickens?"
"Thereby hangs a tale," giggled Zan, turning her back and asking Nita to hook the centre of her dress-waist.
The other girls came in to hear a possible story, and Zan explained the presence of Groutch and her friends.
"Last summer Fiji had the chicken-raising fever and we let him have the carriage-house for his venture. He succeeded, too, but Fall came and we had to go back to the city. He had sold half his chickens to mother during the late summer, and wanted to sell the other half to friends in the city, but Daddy didn't like the idea of that. Finally, the butcher in Junction took all he had, and when it came time to deliver the chickens on our way home, not a sign of Groutch and the three other hens could we find! We had to leave with only the spring chickens. A day after we got home Bill Sherwood wrote Fiji that the hens all came back to roost outside the house the same night. Fiji wrote for him to take them to the butcher the first time he went to Junction. And, Miss Miller, you can believe me or not, those hens skiddooed every time Bill Sherwood planned to catch them! After several vain trials, he sent word to Fiji that he was done with chicken chasing! How we laughed at that letter!"
"How remarkable! And I never gave chickens credit for any 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!"