The Woodcraft Girls in the City

“It’s Fred and his crew, all right!” cried Elizabeth, passing the glasses to Zan.

“Oh yes, I can see them now, but aren’t they going very slow for a motor launch?” called Zan.

“Maybe something broke down and they can’t get in,” said Eleanor Wilbur, who had been more than pleasant and obliging all that week.

“No, they are labouring against wind and tides, I guess,” remarked Elizabeth, who was busy with a long strip of linen which happened to be packed with the stores when Mrs. Remington made up the hamper.

“What are you doing?” asked one of the girls.

“I’m using this linen Mother sent for bandages if we had to use them, for a signal flag. I’ll stick it out on that dead pine tree on the cliff and Fred will surely see it.”

“And we might build a smoke-fire,” suggested Zan.

“Yes, do that. Then we can signal them that we are lost,” chuckled Jane, running to gather red pine bark.

Finally, the steam whistle on the launch signalled that the boys had seen the smoke and flag, and later the launch beached where it made a good landing-place.

The girls helped the sailors transport their luggage from the launch to the clearing on the cliff, and Zan remarked: “I see you brought the aqua-plane.”

“Bet your life! Betsy would have sent us back for it had we forgotten to bring it,” laughed Fred, as he climbed the sandy side of the cliff.

Once on top where he found the Guide and other girls making camp, he said: “Where are the other boys? Fishing?”

“No, we never met each other as planned. I think they are camping at some other spot,” said Zan.

“They’ll hunt us up quick enough when it’s time for supper. You see we brought the hampers,” laughed Jane.

Fred looked serious, however. “We had a dreadful time rounding the Island where the sea sweeps in through the Narrows. It was all we could do to stem the current. Even as it was, we had to go way out of our road to avoid the swift tide.”

“You don’t think anything could have happened to them, do you?” cried Zan, anxiously.

“I shouldn’t wonder but what they have been over-turned,” now added Eleanor, with her pessimistic propensity.

“Not that at all, girls, only they may have been swept so far out of their course that paddles couldn’t help them along very fast. Then they may have to camp wherever they are,” said Fred.

“All the same, you know as well as I do, that lots of folks are drowned off this shore – ’specially boys. You can read about a death that way every day!” persisted Eleanor.

“Then they didn’t know how to swim like Fiji and Jack do. Why, they’re regular water-rats!” replied Fred, optimistically.

“Swimming won’t help much if they have cramps! That sinks you like lead!” countered Eleanor again.

Miss Miller heard the whole conversation and also saw Zan and Jane turn pale when they first thought of danger to their brothers. Until this time they thought it a great joke that they had found such a fine site and were camping with all the foodstuff.

At Eleanor’s first exclamation the Guide had frowned, for her religion was one of practical common sense and cheerful optimism. She looked about for something to interest the girls and, at the same time, stop Eleanor from talking, so when she heard the last rejoinder to Fred’s attempts at encouraging Zan and Jane, she called to Eleanor:

“Will you help me unpack these hampers, while the other girls gather fire-wood? Zan, suppose Jane and you keep the signal fires burning on that cliff’s edge. The boys will see the smoke if they are near here.”

Eleanor walked slowly over to Miss Miller, frowning as she went. But the Guide failed to notice it as she was busy with the camp dishes and pans.

“Will you put these bags of groceries over in the box that stands in my tent?” asked the Guide, holding up the paper bags.

“Why must I play kitchen-mechanic while all the other girls are having a good time in the woods?” complained Eleanor.

At the words and tone, the Guide looked up amazed.

“Good gracious, I thought you would prefer to do this to stooping and collecting old wood,” said she, vexed at the girl.

“You take particular pains to make me do the unpleasant things, I notice. Now, when I was trying to prepare Zan and Jane for the worst, you called me to get me away from them. Don’t I know?” sneered Eleanor, loftily.

“Woodcrafters never prepare for the worst! It is our rule to always wait for the best and let the worst take care of itself!” declared Miss Miller, wondering what under the sun she was to do with this undesirable character.

“Oh! you are so preachy! One never takes a turn but you have a lecture ready – generally on this Woodcraft!” cried Eleanor impatiently. “The other girls flatter you by calling it ‘poesy’ and artistic temperament, but I call ‘a spade a spade’!”

“Do you?” queried Miss Miller, suddenly making up her mind what to do. “Then you won’t object if I ‘take the bull by the horns’ – another old saying!”

“You may take anything by his horns if you choose, it won’t concern me in the least!” said Eleanor, disdainfully, as well as significantly.

“Then sit down right where you are!” ordered Miss Miller with a determined manner that made Eleanor glance at her in wonderment.

“Sit down, I said!”

“Why should I obey you?” questioned Eleanor, stubbornly.

“Because I am in command of this camp and what I say goes without questioning. Either do as I bid you or take your bag and start for home at once!”

“Wh – h – y! You couldn’t do that!” gasped Eleanor.

“We can oust you from camp and send you away but it is up to you whether you return home or hang about the woods.”

Eleanor had never camped before and it was a new experience she had looked forward to because of the joys claimed by the other Woodcrafters. But to wander in the woods alone in the dark was quite a foreign plan to the one she had anticipated. She was hungry, too, and being sent away at once meant going without supper. She glanced from the corners of her eyes to see just how far Miss Miller might carry out her threat, but the Guide was watching her with a stern expression.

Eleanor, not knowing what to do at the moment, sat down to gain time. Miss Miller, who feared she might weaken in her sudden and unprecedented manner of severity, immediately spoke.

“I have watched you most carefully for the past two weeks and I have seen things you never dreamed of! Now, I am going to have it out with you!”

At this, Eleanor went white and trembled. She cowered as if she expected a blow, but she refused to look at the Guide.

“You will remember a threat you made to May Randall the day you stopped to see how the girls were progressing with their work?” asked Miss Miller, referring to the lack of interest the girl displayed in carpentry and the unkind words she used to May.

“Oh for goodness’ sake don’t say a word about that old chest! I wish to goodness I had never seen May Randall and her Woodcraft box!” cried Eleanor, as if driven to desperation.

Miss Miller was as surprised now as the girl had been a few moments before, but she rallied much quicker than the guilty one. The truth flashed over her quick mind and she changed her query accordingly.

“It is a pity that you ever gave in to temptation. You certainly can’t blame your covert acts on May or any other being. The evil we do is absolutely our own fault, for every man is a free agent to choose what he will do. Sometimes it is fear or cowardice that drives one to do an evil deed but it is the downright criminal that obeys an evil idea or plan, knowing he is doing a thing that condemns him to the world and in his own estimation, too.”

“Well, what do you want to do about it? Did you call me over here to tell me what you thought of me? Why didn’t you do it before to-day, then I wouldn’t have come?” cried Eleanor, still defiantly.

“I hadn’t the least idea of speaking to you about May’s chest until you brought it upon yourself. I was going to mention something entirely different until you compelled me to say what I did just now.”

“And you kept this secret all to yourself this week?” cried Eleanor, looking at Miss Miller with a kindlier expression.

“Eleanor,” said the Guide, catching at that tiny hope of softening the stubborn girl, “I do not think another member in the Band dreams that you had anything to do with the missing chest, and I do not think anyone but you and I suspects the truth.”

“And you let me come with the Tribe knowing this about me?” Eleanor’s gaze dropped to the ground and she sat thinking.

According to Miss Miller’s code, when one began to think earnestly over anything, or tried introspection of one’s self, it was a symptom of recovery, even though there might be a long siege of diseased conditions before perfect health was attained. So she remained silent waiting for Eleanor to think some more.

“You’re either mighty fair to me or you’re keeping this thing quiet for fear others will hear of it and so belittle your influence with the girls,” finally declared Eleanor.

“Don’t you think you are judging unfairly, after you just said ‘I was fair’? Why should I hesitate to make you resign from our Tribe for doing a dastardly trick with May’s box? No one but you and I would ever know the truth about it, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mention it to anyone, because you are heartily ashamed of the deed. If I was afraid of others’ opinions about my Band of Girls, I would make you resign before any other tricks were perpetrated by you. But I am fair and I want to see you make good, now that you have this Woodcraft opportunity, hence I am talking to you instead of sending you away.”

“Then, all I can say, is, that you’re all right!” declared Eleanor. But in another second she felt suspicious again.

“I suppose, now that I’ve admitted the deed, you’ll have me up for a public reprimand. It goes with a teacher’s ideals of training!”

The Guide could not but admire the girl’s quick mental powers and thought what a wonderful woman she would make if her character and mind were but trained properly instead of along the lines of this present example.

“I thought we might arrange it this way, if I had your word of honour that you would work hard to destroy the ‘little foxes that destroy the vines’; you can replace the chest by leaving it at my home, or send it by messenger to the gymnasium Monday noon. I will put it in the closet and send a note to May saying that the box was found but the conditions for return were that no questions were to be asked. At the same time I expect you to volunteer the information, thus clearing the school children.”

Eleanor sat glowering at the Guide for full three minutes as if to read her true reasons for this leniency, but Miss Miller understood enough of psychology to realise that this was the great crisis. In that interchange of heart-readings, Eleanor saw only truth and loving sympathy shine from the woman’s eyes, and Miss Miller saw the adamant of wilfulness break ever so little.

The Guide knew that just so much love and forbearance as she really felt in her innermost heart for this misled girl, just so much could she influence and lift her at this crucial time. So she prayed, oh, so fervently, to the Great Spirit for help and light to do exactly the right thing. And that silent prayer must have been the glorified light that shone from her eyes for it led Eleanor to melt as she had never melted before. She leaned her head over on the grass and wept bitterly.

Miss Miller rose and left the repentant girl alone, while she noisily busied herself with the pots and pans. She knew that not words or pity but silent calling upon Omnipotence for strength and faith would be the balm that would help and heal this weak reed swayed by evil’s suggestions.

As the Guide washed some potatoes she said to herself in a low murmur: “Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil – for Thine is the Power!”

Then: “Miss Miller,” sounded a weak little voice at her side, “shall I wipe the dishes with a clean towel?”

“Yes, dear, I wish you would.”

And that was all.

“Guess what we found, Miss Miller?” called a chorus of voices, as the fire-gatherers returned with armfuls of dry wood.

“Mushrooms?”

“Wh – hy, who told you?” cried the girls, looking about for the messenger.

“That little bird just flew by and whispered it in my ear,” laughed Miss Miller, pointing to a great sea-gull that hovered over their heads.

Everyone laughed and Jane added: “Yes, mushrooms but not enough for all. If we only had a steak they would make a fine sauce.”

“Oh gee! That reminds me I forgot my donation to the party!” cried Bob Baker, springing up from the grass where he had thrown himself, and running down to the launch.

“Bob trawled all the way and caught some pretty good sized fish. I thought all decent sized fish were driven out of these waters by the traffic and pollution from sewers, but I was mistaken,” explained Fred, watching Bob run back with his catch.

“Now we can use the mushrooms!” cried Zan.

“Fred, why don’t you cook the fish the way father taught us on Sunset Island?” asked Elizabeth.

“Just as Miss Miller says,” replied Fred, looking at the Guide.

“Miss Miller says cook the whole supper if you like, then we can take a swim. You boys have had your dip, you know,” laughed she.

“Now, how did you know that? We boys said we wouldn’t let you know it!” cried Bob.

“Really, you are uncanny, Miss Miller,” added Fred.

“Anyone could tell Bob had been in, from his damp curly pate, and Billy still has the brine sticking up about his scalp. If I should need any further evidence I might say that one of the younger boys put on Fred’s socks by mistake, or else he made a blunder when he mentioned his size to the clerk who sold them,” said the Guide, smiling.

Everyone glanced at Billy’s feet, and lo! the socks were hanging loosely down over his shoes, several sizes too large for him, while Fred’s turned-up white trousers showed socks so tight that they stopped the circulation at the top, but the tops only reached to the place where his shoes ended.

A peal of laughter rang out and echoed through the woods at the sight the three surprised boys made, and Zan said:

“Just for that, you have to cook supper while we take a dip!”

“We’re game. Not because we took a swim before we got here, but because you’ve got such an all-round fine clairvoyant!” laughed Fred, looking at Miss Miller with admiration.

“Shall we wait supper for Fiji and Jack?” asked Bob.

“They’ll be given something should they come straggling in late, but I firmly believe they went to their own camp-site and are now pitying us for not having found them,” said Miss Miller.

“And you can leave it to Jack to have something to eat! He never takes a chance on going without a square meal!” added Jane.

“We’ll keep the signal-fire going all night and when it is dark they can see it and get their bearings for us in the morning,” suggested Fred.

So the girls ran to their tents to hurry into bathing suits and take a swim before the call came for supper.

CHAPTER SEVEN – CAMPING SPORTS OF A WEEK-END

“Come ahead, boys, clean the fish and get them ready for me to cook,” called Fred, starting to dig a hole in the ground about twice the size of the fish. This he thickly lined with large sized shore pebbles which had been well washed. On top of these stones he built a good fire until it thoroughly heated the stones to a white heat.

Meantime Bob and Billy cleaned and washed the fish, then placed a thick strip of bacon inside each one. They salted, peppered, and floured the fish ready to cook.

When the fire-pit was ready, Fred raked out the cinders and put a layer of clean grass on top of the red-hot stones. He laid out the fish on this and covered them with a layer of the grass, and on top of this he spread a thin layer of sand. Then he piled in the glowing cinders and kept the fire burning fiercely on top of Nature’s sauce-pan.

The Guide returned from her bath while the fish were cooking and expressed deep interest in the new method of cooking she saw demonstrated before her. Fred explained how he built the oven and a note was made to enter the splendid idea in the Tribe’s Tally.

“Are the fish most done?” asked Elizabeth, sniffing for an odour of the cooking.

“Be ready about the same time the rest of the supper is,” replied Fred.

“That’s a new kind of a pot-hanger, Miss Miller,” said Zan, pointing to the sapling Fred had rigged up.

“I’ll tell you girls just how I made this fire-place,” offered he. “Large stones are so plentiful about here, so I took some flat ones and built the fire inside the narrow aperture made by laying the stones in two rows parallel to each other. The sauce-pans stand close over the fire and are quite firm on these flat stones, and the building does not take as long to complete as a log fire-place.

“These two green logs were found by Billy, and you can see for yourselves that the angle they make as placed, provides a resting place for various sized pots – small to large – the large ones setting on the widest opening of the angle. The fire built between the logs is easily kept clean by raking out the dead ash from the widest opening.

“Now this is a good form of pot-hanger where you want a kettle to hang directly over a fire. I found a good sapling that had a well-defined notch made by two branches. These I cut down to about three inches in length. The bottom of the sapling I trimmed to a point to drive into the ground the right distance I wanted.

“Then I trimmed another forked sapling similar to the first but much longer. This I fitted into the crotch of the upright stick, with the forked end directly over the fire, and the opposite end held firmly to the ground by means of a stump or flat stone. You see, this forked device of the end over the fire keeps the handle of the pot from slipping off, and the long end held to the ground by a weight gives the kettle enough swing to resist any extra contents.

“While you’re all here seeing me do it, let me tell you a fine stunt if the weather is bad and tents are damp, or cots cold and uncomfortable,” added Fred, as he concluded his talk on pot-hangers. “When you are through cooking dinner, you can take these red-hot fire-stones by means of a stout stick and a dishpan, and carry them to the tent. In a short time, the heat rising from the stones will dry the atmosphere. If the cots are damp and cold, place the pan of hot stones under the bed and they will soon dry and be warm as toast all night. If you want the temperature of the tent to keep warm all night, place a layer of moss or grass over the stones. The rock will retain its heat for hours after removing it from the fire.”

“Well! If Fred Remington doesn’t know everything!” sighed Elena, admiringly.

“I wish you were a member of our Tribe,” added Zan.

“Who wouldn’t be an expert Woodcrafter with such a mother! Why, she was an enthusiastic worker in the plan long before a regular League started. Besides, we spend our Summers on the Island in Maine, and what we don’t know from camping at home we ferret out from the farmers and fishermen on the Coast. My uncles own the neighbouring islands to ours and they enjoy out-door life, too. So we all have a good time experimenting with new ideas and remembering the good ones for future use,” explained Fred, eagerly.

“Fred knows so much about camping and cooking because he won a degree for Camp Cook. Besides, he and his Tribe go hiking and camping every Saturday and Fred has charge of the party. I am working for the degree this year, and I’m sure I shall win it,” said Elizabeth, who was cooking a concoction she wished to try out.

“It behooves Wako Tribe to keep on friendly terms with you, Elizabeth,” remarked the Guide, smiling at Zan.

“Oh, we found that out long ago, Miss Miller,” retorted the Chief.

“What is that stuff you are fixing, Betsy? It smells awful good,” asked Hilda, sniffing at the steam that rose from the pot Elizabeth was using for her brew.

“I call it ‘hastychowder’ and it is made this way, in case you girls want to try it sometime: To one can of corn, take four cups of potatoes cut into small dice, two ounces of salt pork, also cut fine, a small onion, and about four ounces of crackers. Fry the pork and onions brown and then add the corn and potatoes. Cover this with water and cook until the vegetables are soft. Then add the milk and some salt, and lastly the crackers. If the crackers are soaked in milk for a time before using, I think it makes the chowder better.”

“Well, whatever you call it or cook it, it smells mighty good to me,” said Jane.

“Girls, I wanted to have plain cooked rice with the fish, but how can I cook it when every pot and place is in use?” asked the Guide, looking at the array of pans and pots all holding food.

“Ha! You’d make a poor tenderfoot if you were lost on the mountains with no outfit!” laughed Fred.

“What would you do in that case?” asked the Guide.

“Watch me! May I have a bit of this birch bark the girls brought back with them from the woods?” asked Fred.

“Help yourself,” replied Zan.

Fred quickly selected a strip of bark about ten inches wide. This he folded end to end to form a round tube. The edges were stitched with wire-grass. Then he sewed a bottom on one end and it represented a bark pail. Next he plastered clay on the outside seams, and rubbed some gum from a wild cherry tree on the seams of the inside, saying: “If we had time to let the clay dry I wouldn’t use the gum on the inside, but now I need to make it water-proof.”

Then he filled this vessel with water and selected two red-hot stones of a smaller size than the others, and dropped them in the water. Instantly, the water began boiling and the rice, which Miss Miller had washed, was poured into the vessel and a cover placed over the top.

“When our dinner is ready, the rice will be steamed, too,” said Fred, placing the bark vessel on a flat stone near the fire-place.

“Well I never!” ejaculated some of the girls, while Elena hastily sketched the birch-bark holder and wrote down the rules for manufacturing it.

“Now girls, lay the cloth and have the dishes ready for the chowder,” called Elizabeth, tasting the liquid from the tip of a spoon.

“I wish those two boys were here to enjoy this scrumptious meal,” said Jane, sighing as she thought of their loss.

The chowder was dished up and eaten with sounds of many smacks and “Ahs!” Then the fish were removed from the oven and as the aroma of the flaky and sweet meat reached the nostrils of the Woodcrafters, a chorus of “Um’s!” echoed about the camp-circle.

Every morsel of that supper vanished like ice in the July sunshine and was declared the best ever tasted by the campers. The gray of evening crept over sky and sea and earth as the Woodcrafters sat about the dying embers of the camp-fire hoping for a call or signal from the two boys, which would warn them of their approach. But in spite of the torch Fred kept burning on the Cliff, nothing was heard or seen from the wanderers.

Eleanor had been very quiet and meek since her confession to the Guide, but old ingrained habits are not thrown off in one moment of repentance. When Fred returned from the Cliff with the report that he saw no sign of a fire or signal, she remarked:

“Well, you said the current was dreadfully strong just around the end of the Island. Maybe they couldn’t make it and are being carried out to sea in the canoe.”

“Oh no, they’re all right,” assured Fred, glancing at Zan and Jane.

“But they may have lost the paddles, or a dozen of any many things may have happened. Boys are always careless with an open boat,” persisted Eleanor.

“Miss Miller, we’ll put an end to this dread by going to the nearest telephone station. If the boys think we’re lost they will ’phone home sometime before morning, and then they can tell them where we are. If they have already ’phoned we will find out and rest easier for the news,” said Fred, pulling Bob up from his lounge by the fire.

“It’s too dark to see where we’re going,” grumbled Bob, who had enjoyed the chowder and fish overmuch.

“Not when my lanterns are ready. Watch me,” said Fred, picking up the two empty tins left from the corn, and slitting a hole in the side of each. The lid-ends were bent back and a candle fitted in the openings, then the jagged ends were pressed back into the tallow. The one end of the can was cut out entirely and the opposite end which had been cut open to remove the corn was bent back on the small piece of tin uncut and used as a handle for the impromptu lanterns.