and stood still admiring the scene presented.
Just before them, a rocky ledge projected over the Falls about ten feet
above the lower level of the water. The Falls were only six feet from
top to bottom, where the water formed a lovely pool. On the opposite
bank, the ground rose gradually to about five feet above the water,
and this bank was thickly carpeted with moss and bitter-sweet vines.
The woods began with a close array of trees a few feet back from the
stream, the straight timber presenting a dauntless front to the mites
who stood gazing at them in admiration.
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.
"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!"