Lillian Roy - The Woodcraft Girls at Camp

The Bluff, as Zan said the ledge of rock was called, extended from the Falls back forty feet to the pathway, finally burying itself under moss and thick grass, just where the girls stood. Above the Falls the ground rose gradually at first, then abruptly, with great boulders of rock jutting forth here and there. The swift-running stream cleft through the steep sides, thus forming a miniature canyon, and, where the rocks hung over the water, masses of lichen, arbutus, and creepers suspended in a tangled riot. The skyline was entirely hidden by the thick growth of forest trees.

The sweep downward from the Falls to the bridge had been cleared of undergrowth so that the view presented – fields of buttercups and daisies in the foreground and Bill Sherwood's farm-land and cottage by the road that ran over the Big Bridge – was a most decided contrast to the wild beauty of the woods and cliffs.

"Well!" sighed some of the girls, "No wonder Zan wanted to camp here!"

"Isn't it beautiful! It is more like an artist's ideal than actuality!" added Miss Miller.

"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.