him for one of his practice horses when he had to have two. Then, when
he gave up going out at night, he kept Cheokee for his day use. We
called him 'Bill' then. Daddy got an automobile a few years ago, and
we came down for our first summer on the farm that year. Of course we
wanted Billy with us. Then we found out that the farmer was called Bill
so we thought he might not like it to have a horse called by the same
name. And besides, we felt that a horse for a doctor and a horse in the
country for fun ought to have names showing their occupations. Bill
sounds all right for the city, but we wanted something fancy for him in
the country. After a lot of thinking Fiji suggested Wick. That didn't
fit. Then Bob said, Keeok. I didn't like that either. After starting
on the name of the farm we kept on until Fiji said, Chokee. That
made us all laugh and Muzzer said it was awful! It made her think of
strangulation. So we modified it by calling him Cheokee, but the boys
_would_ use that name Chokee. We led Bill to the creek and invited
the Sherwoods and some friends of Muzzer's who were visiting us, and
Bob spoke a piece he had rendered at school that term, while Fiji
placed a daisy wreath on the horse's head. I took a brass finger bowl
and sprinkled the water on his head and we named him Cheokee. Then, we
started a song but Cheokee saw Bill coming up the slope with a measure
of oats and he scrambled out of the water and went for his dinner. By
the time he got his nose out of the bucket and looked at us, the daisy
wreath was hanging from one ear, and he had oats clinging to his nose
and face. Oh, that was a funny sight!" and Zan leaned back and laughed
at the memory.
The girls grinned in sympathy, and Miss Miller watched the girl who had
been blessed with a father who had common sense enough to allow his
girl to grow naturally, without any foolish notions, or without wasting
any valuable time over her toilet.
Miss Miller thought to herself: "Zan is youngest by several months of
any member of this Band, yet she has the physique and mentality of a
perfectly healthy girl of fourteen. Then, too, she is so free from
guile and full of intelligence, that she is an admirable associate for
this or any other camp to have with it."
Miss Miller unconsciously turned her eyes on Nita, who formed such a
contrast to Zan. Her very eyes expressed hidden thoughts that she dwelt
upon, but would have been ashamed to admit. Her every action seemed
to say, "I know I am pretty, and I shall make the most of it." Her
indolence, her preference for sweet things to eat, the habit to excuse
herself for any error, or misrepresent facts, all were making their
lines in her face, and later would have seared her soul.
"If I can only prove equal to her!" thought Miss Miller. "I should love
to replace that falsity with a genuine nature, but it must not be at
the expense of my other charges!"
While the dishes were being washed, Jane said, "Could we use Cheokee
for a ramble this afternoon?"
"It would be fun, Miss Miller, and he hadn't far to come this morning,
you know," added Zan.
"Then say we take a short drive and let our bath go until later in the
afternoon. We had planned to sew, but I will admit that no one dreamed
of an addition to our camp that would open new channels of pleasure."
"Can you hitch him?" Elena asked of Zan.
"Pooh! of course! And you'll have to learn how, too."
"Oh, I'd be so 'fraid to get up close!" shivered Elena, laughingly.
"We'll take all of that fear out of you before you go back home, young
lady," threatened Zan, grinning at her delicate companion.
The girls soon had the big surrey pulled out of the carriage-house
and Zan led the horse out of the enclosure. Miss Miller assisted in
harnessing one side while Zan did the other. The girls stood by and
watched with interest.
"Who'd ever think Zan could do these things when you see her at
school?" said Jane.
"Or at dancing school?" added Nita.
"Which goes to prove that a lady is always a lady no matter what tasks
she does, as long as she remembers her birth-right!" ventured Miss
Miller.
At the signal from Zan, the girls climbed in the surrey, with Elena,
Zan, and Miss Miller on the front seat.
Cheokee knew it was to be a lark, and he started off with one of his
prancing steps. The girls laughed and shouted at every thing they
passed, until Zan turned the horse into a beautiful woodland road. The
trees were so thick and tall that but little sunshine ever penetrated
to the road. It was consequently cool and dark in the woods.
Miss Miller turned to speak to Elena and was struck at the look on
Nita's face. She turned about to see what caused it, and saw a dog-cart
coming from the opposite direction. She knew intuitively who was
driving the high-stepping horse. There was no room to pass each other
on the narrow road, and the banks rose over three feet on either side.
There was only one thing to do. The young man jumped down and took his
horse by the head, backing him along the road until a small spot was
found where he could turn out and permit the load of girls to pass. He
stared impudently at Zan as he knew she was the doctor's daughter,
camping at Wickeecheokee. He raised his hat as she glanced in his
direction and Miss Miller thanked him coldly for his courtesy.
Immediately after, the Guide turned abruptly to address Jane but looked
keenly at Nita. The girl failed to notice the teacher, however, for she
was leaning out of the surrey looking behind where the young fellow
still stood waving his hat.
"Zan, stop at once! Nita's lost something! What was it, Nita--I'll help
you find it?" said Miss Miller.
"Why--nothing! I didn't lose anything," replied the girl, flushing the
moment she realised that she had been caught.
"Oh, I thought you were looking along the road for something you had
dropped. Well, drive on, Zan, it's all right!" said the Guide.
"I might have dropped my hat and had a chance to get out and see Jack
Everton," thought Nita regretfully.
The rest of the drive over the woodland road was silent, but the girls
soon began chattering again, at sight of interesting things in meadows.
After leaving the woodland, Zan let the horse climb up a gradual
ascent, taking his time to do so. The road doubled many times before
reaching the top. This was to make the ascent easier, Miss Miller
explained. At the summit the girls jumped out and admired the view. Zan
unhooked the loose check-rein and let the horse graze for a time.
"We can see Baldy right across the valley--see?" said Zan, pointing in
the direction of the knoll.
"Then this must be the mountain we saw yesterday," said Jane.
"It is--it used to be called Pine Tree Hill by the farmers hereabouts,
but we shortened it to Pine Nob. It gets the name on account of all the
fine pines covering its sides," exclaimed Zan.
"But not a berry to be seen!" remarked Hilda.
"And not a snake!" laughed Miss Miller, looking at Elena.
After the Band had roamed about all they wished to, Miss Miller, who
had been carefully examining the place, said, "Wouldn't this make a
delightful spot for a night-camp when we begin star-gazing?"
"Oh, yes! And there is a small ravine where the spring of fresh water
is!" added Zan eagerly.
"Is there! That was the only drawback as far as I knew--now that is
removed," replied the Guide.
"Let's come as soon as we can," urged Jane.
"Very well. Suppose we say the first clear night after to-night!"
suggested the Guide.
Returning, Zan chose a different road home. At the foot of Pine Nob
Cheokee took the road past the Forks and went on the road that ran in
front of the Hamilton place. So near were they that the barking of many
dogs could be heard. Zan explained that Mr. Hamilton had thorough-bred
dogs that he showed at exhibitions or sold for fabulous prices to
dog-fanciers.
When the girls drove in at the farm-gate Bill was nowhere in sight, so
they backed the carriage into the shed and unharnessed the horse alone.
The greater part of the afternoon had been spent in driving and there
was just time for a bath, before supper had to be started.
It took but a few minutes to get out of camp clothes and slide into
union suits. It had become quite the natural thing to see each other in
the union suits and no further thought was given to it.
The girls were eager to try their courage again and soon were splashing
and shouting, Zan suggesting ways and means of keeping afloat, or
trying a stroke. Suddenly, Miss Miller stood up in the water near the
willow and exclaimed, "Oh, what a cute puppy!"
The girls bobbed up quickly and looked in the direction of the Guide's
glance. There sat a half-grown collie pup on the edge of the Bluff
looking knowingly down at the bathers.
"Oh, you little darling! Come here!" called Zan, snapping her fingers
at the pup.
The doggy wagged his tail violently and jumped up and down, giving
funny little barks.
"Isn't he too cunning for anything!" said Elena.
"Come down here--here, doggy, doggy!" coaxed Jane.
The girls stood close together on the edge of the water when the pup
suddenly decided to run down to them. He bounded over the grass by the
pool and before any one could follow his antics, he jumped in the pool
among them.
The girls gave little shrieks and the pup thought it was a signal for
play. He immediately caught hold of Zan's suit where it ended about the
knee. His teeth felt like tiny steel pins as he clenched the edge of
the material, and Zan might have frightened him off had he not upset
her into the water. This done, he paddled about and heard the girls
clapping madly at the prank. He thought this meant that they wanted
some fun too, so he raced to their side and jumped about in the shallow
pool, making them squeal and hug each other. The puppy would not be
balked of his fun, however, so he tried to get a hold on their fitted
suits.
Wild screams and laughter resulted, and suddenly, while the Guide stood
under the willow holding her side breathlessly, the entire group,
victims and dog, rolled over into the pool.
Of course, there was a mad scene of splashing, sputtering and crying
out for help, before either of the girls could rise. The puppy stood on
the edge of the bank wagging his tail, his head on one side with black
eyes winking at his prey, and his tongue lolling from one side of his
wide-open mouth.
When the submerged four could recover a normal state of breathing
again, the puppy bent down and began lapping water in as unconcerned a
manner as a puppy can assume.
"I wonder if he can swim?" called Zan, who still stood at a safe
distance where the dog had ducked her.
"Most likely; he ought to teach the girls the correct method," replied
Miss Miller.
Zan whistled and threw a stick down stream to tempt the dog, but he
merely watched it float away, and then laid down in the sun to dry.
All the coaxing and chirruping had no effect on the sleepy pup, so the
girls ceased their wiles and tried to swim in good style.
During supper, the puppy cried for something to eat, and a bowl of
oatmeal left from breakfast, and some warm milk was given him.
"I wonder where he could have come from?" said Elena.
Bill passed by the Bluff on his way to the barn to feed Cheokee, and he
said he thought the puppy belonged to Hamilton. A light dawned in Zan's
eyes at that.
"Miss Miller, I bet anything, the puppy followed us when we drove past
the place. We wouldn't have noticed him, you know, and he, most likely,
kept far enough behind so that we didn't see him when we got out.
Collie dogs have a wonderful scent, and he could find his way after us
even if we were out of sight."
"That seems plausible. Then he must go back home. We will walk over in
the morning, and have Bill telephone from the house that the dog is
safe."
Bill consented to do this, and the girls hurried supper and did the
dishes, so that they could enjoy a romp with the dog.
"I wish to goodness we could keep him!" sighed Zan, watching the pup
drag Elena's shoe about.
"We could call him Wickee, couldn't we?" suggested Jane.
"Yes, if we owned him. But pedigreed pups like this one cost too much
for our Band to buy, and Hamilton raises all his dogs for money, so
it's good-night to _that_ dream!" said Zan.
"Sorry, Zan, to heap trouble on your head; regret for the impossibility
of owning the pup and accumulating marks against your record for
slang!" hinted the Guide.
"Oh, well, I don't just care a fig! there now! If I only had a dog
like this Wickee, I wouldn't say another slang-word in my whole life,
really! But what's the use of caring when you haven't got a pet as cute
as this one!" Zan grumbled and pouted until she was on the verge of
tears. Miss Miller had a hard time to keep a straight face.
"If Mr. Hamilton could only see and hear you now, he would rather lose
his dollars than disappoint you," laughed Elena.
Bill's face showed in the dark of the woods just then, and the girls
halted their play to ask what was said about the pup.
"Mr. Hamilton swore at first, saying he never could keep this pup home.
He was always getting lost. Then he said, "Bill, I promised the doctor
a pup of the next good strain we raised here, didn't I, in return for
saving the prize collie's life last year. S'posing I give that pup to
the girl--if she wants him, and my debt will be paid!"
"I says t' him, Miss Zan will be much obleeged, I'm sure."
"He says, 'All right, tell her the deal is closed--the dog's hers.'"
Bill looked blinkingly at Zan and Miss Miller, and Zan gave a shout as
she fell down on the grass and threw her arms about Wickee. So, that's
the manner of Wickee joining the camp.
CHAPTER TEN
THE LETTER THAT SAVED NITA
Soon after breakfast on Saturday morning, Bill signalled for Miss
Miller's attention. She went to the edge of the Bluff and he called up
through a paper megaphone (a device of the Guide's) that the butcher
wagon was waiting in front of his house.
"Come and help me select the meat, girls," said Miss Miller, as she
ran to the cupboard for a platter. Assuring herself that she had her
pocketbook, the Guide hurried down the slope, followed by the girls
laughing at the idea of six people going to select one piece of meat!
The butcher was a good-natured man eager to please a good customer. He
had heard with dismay, that the doctor's family was going to spend the
summer at the seashore, for the doctor always bought plenty of meat and
paid cash for it, too. As many of his customers bought meat in exchange
for produce, or made the man wait until they could sell farm truck
before paying him, he felt a great relief when Bill told him of the
party coming to camp at the farm.
"Good morning, Mr. Balsh. Have you any good shin-meat for soup?" asked
Miss Miller, having been introduced by Mrs. Sherwood.
"No shin, ma'am, to-day, but I've got a good piece of flank--or a chunk
of round. How will that do?" he asked anxiously.
The girls tittered at the queer terms for meat, and Miss Miller
examined the flank carefully. Then, turning to the round, she asked,
"How much is this a pound?"
"Twenty-two, ma'as! Same as city markets without addin' cost of haulin'
or express."
"Oh, but you ought to charge extra for any cost you have to bear. Your
buyers would be willing to share any extra expense," said Miss Miller.
"Yah! I knows it, but, you see, it's just this way! A new butcher
starts up in town and calls upon all my customers what I have served
for years. He tells them what he kin sell meat for, an' they says to
me, 'Mr. Balsh, eider you gives us the same price, or we don't buy!'
What should I do, ma'am?"
"That's true!" sighed Miss Miller. "Unfair competition is the ruination
of all business. Most likely his quality of meat was not to be compared
to yours!"
"You're a smart womans, ma'am! That's just what it tis. His meat, what
he would sell my customers, what trust me for years, phew! Ma'am,
excuse me, but I must tell you--it tis all bad!"
The girls had to laugh at the disgusted face on the butcher. "But I
trust he didn't get any of your people from you?" added Miss Miller.
"Some few--what never paid me on time, anyways. The odders all stuck!
But I tells you, I had to come down with my good meat, to his prices
for bad meat!" and the poor man sighed loudly as he folded his fat arms
over his rubicund form.
The round steak spread out for inspection was not what the Guide
wanted. She wanted a sirloin. "I carry a few for my fancy customers.
Folks like Mrs. Sherwood's always buys round."
A fine cut was chosen, Miss Miller showing the girls why she took a
steak that had very fine veinings of fat all through it. The colour was
a fresh red and a goodly-sized tenderloin lay along the long narrow
bone.
The sirloin was twenty-six cents a pound; the girls all stared when
they heard that the steak--for one dinner--would cost almost a dollar
of their camp fund.
Miss Miller selected two pounds of flank-beef and the butcher gave her
a quantity of bones for nothing. The beef cost sixteen cents a pound.
She pointed out the difference between top-round, flank, and shin meat,
for soup. The girls had learned more in one morning about the meat they
ate than they ever thought of knowing all their lives.
"If we planned to make 'beef roll' which is very nice cut cold, or with
brown gravy, we would use a piece of flank. The shin meat makes the
most nourishing soup, I think. I believe some folks say the flavour of
flank-beef is too strong to be good, but I will leave you to judge of
the quality when you taste it."
"I have a little chunk of top-round here, ma'am, that I want to get
rid of. I am most through with my route for to-day an' will sell this
cheap."
The butcher picked up a small piece of beef and weighed it. "It's two
and a half pounds--you can have it for forty cents, ma'am."
"That is a bargain--I'll take it," said Miss Miller.
The meat was given to different girls and the wagon continued down the
road, while the Band returned to the Bluff, Miss Miller carrying a
large enamelled pot Mrs. Sherwood gave her as they passed the back-door.
"How did the pot happen to be down at Sherwoods'?" asked Zan
wonderingly.
"Mrs. Sherwood says she generally uses it for boiling jelly to send
to your mother. It is large and doesn't scorch as easily as a tin or
copper kettle."
At camp the Guide placed the purse in her tent and then called Hilda
to come to the fire-place with her. "You saw me build a fire the other
day, so I want you to do it now. I will have to hunt for a stronger
cross-stick to hold the soup-pot. When water and all this meat is in,
it will be heavy for the small stick we are now using."
In a short time, Miss Miller came back to the Bluff with a satisfactory
piece of wood in her hand. The girls were watching Hilda trying to
light the fire without success.
After a short examination of the cause, the Guide said, "You haven't
cleaned out the ashes from this morning."
"But you left your ashes in the other day," said Hilda.
"Ah, but that was when we first began our fire-pit. A small quantity of
ashes always makes a better heater. But too much of anything is worse
than none!"
As soon as some of the ashes had been removed and a new trial made of
lighting the dry wild-wood material, it succeeded.
Elena was told to wash the bones and soup meat carefully by the willow
bank, and Nita was sent to pare the vegetables the Guide placed before
her. Jane and Zan were told to go to the house with the sirloin steak
to keep it on the ice in the pantry.
"We must either have Bill move that ice-chest over here or we must
build one for daily use," said Miss Miller, as she thought of the
convenience it would be to have a larder at hand.
"What's the use carrying the meat there now? While you and the other
girls are preparing the soup and things, Jan and I can hook Cheokee to
the traces and use him to haul the ice-chest over here. We can tilt it
over onto the wheels of the express wagon and tie it securely. When we
get to Bill's, his plough horse can haul it up instead of Cheokee."
"Splendid! Zan, I almost wish I could rub out those marks for slang,
and give you a merit instead, for all of your helpful ideas," said Miss
Miller.
"That reminds me--we haven't held our daily Council yet. When we do, I
have a proposition to make," said Zan, smiling as she ran off through
the woods.
The ice-chest proved a welcome addition to the camp furniture, for most
of the food could be kept inside and keep marauding ants and flies away
from it.
Miss Miller placed the bones, soup-meat and the chunk of flank and
top-round in the big pot, with vegetables cut in small pieces, salt and
pepper, and a gallon and a half of water, thrown in last. The pot was
filled to the brim until it began to boil slowly. Then, a slow fire was
kept going under the pot until the soup was done--about four hours'
time.
The top-round was left in for an hour, and when the Guide took it
carefully out of the pot, it was half-cooked through.
"What are you going to do with it--it's only half done?" said Zan.
"We're going to have it for dinner, and save the steak for to-morrow.
Now, you all watch and see how I make a juicy pot-roast of this beef."
That noon the Band had the beef, string beans, lettuce and rhubarb. A
dinner fit for a prince--so they said.
At the Council that day Zan made her proposition. "Miss Miller
suggested that we each receive a demerit for slang. Now, I firmly
believe that something should be given to offset those marks, so I
propose that for every helpful idea given the Band, we be permitted to
erase a demerit, or be given a merit to balance the final reckoning!"
The Guide's eyes twinkled at the plan, for she saw the zeal the girls
were feeling in the work. She thoroughly approved Zan's suggestion, as
it would prove an incentive to sharpen their wits as well as refrain
from slang talking.
As the motion was carried unanimously it was entered in the Tally Book
as one of the rules of the camp.
At the adjournment of the Council some one suggested that they all walk
over to Hamilton's and thank the owner for presenting Wickee to them.
"Then we won't get back in time to swim!" objected Nita.
"Why not hitch up Cheokee and drive over?" said Zan.
"Better still, let me drive Cheokee over and you girls walk the
required distance in the hour and win a _coup_; on the return we can
drive and get back in time for a swim, too!" advised the Guide.
"Fine! That's a go!" cried Jane eagerly.
Every one approved so the hikers were soon on the way to winning
another _coup_ for walking. Being fresh, eager, and the road shady
and hard, the walk was a delight, except to Nita, who, on account of
wearing French-heeled shoes, had to give up for that time and ride
the last two miles in the surrey. Miss Miller permitted Cherokee to
walk slowly behind the girls and the others arrived at Hamilton's farm
without realising the distance walked.
Mr. Hamilton escorted the girls over the place, showing the kennels and
many valuable dogs. Then Mrs. Hamilton had them sit on the verandah
while she served them with home-made ice-cream.
On the drive back to camp, Jane was learning how to guide the horse and
Zan sat beside her. Miss Miller sat in the back seat so Zan had to turn
to look at her as she said, "Miss Miller, I need a merit badly! I have
a suggestion for the benefit of the whole camp!"
The other paid attention and Jane pulled up the reins so unexpectedly
that Cheokee thought he was meant to stop, so he halted in the middle
of the road. No one noticed it then.
"We have oodles of ice at the farm and we all love ice-cream, so I
suggest that we send home and borrow our four-quart freezer!"
While the girls "ahed" and "ummed," Miss Miller laughed heartily. "You
subtract a mark with a suggestion and add one with a slang word!" said
she.
"Why, how!" frowned Zan.
"Didn't you realise it? Then it shows how unconsciously this habit has
taken root. You said just now, 'oodles of ice.'"
"But that isn't slang! That's English!" remonstrated Zan.
"You'll not find it in any authorised dictionary."
"Well, I've heard the boys use that term so many times that I was sure
it was English," sighed Zan.
"But, remember, most of the slang you have acquired has been the result
of hearing it from your brothers. So, I would not quote them as
critics of English," laughingly said the Guide.
"Well, is the suggestion approved by all?" returned Zan.
"Yes, indeed, that goes without saying!" returned the girls unanimously.
"Then we get ice-cream hereafter, but I miss my merit!" laughed Zan,
turning about and chirping to Cheokee to wake up.
The swimming that afternoon was fine, as the sun had neared Pine Tree
Knob before the girls were ready. Wickee had been impatiently awaiting
their appearance and the moment one of them came from the tent, the
collie jumped about and yelped with glee. He accompanied the Band to
the pool and watched them go in, but he sat on the grass and would not
be persuaded to bathe.
"He's _got_ to come in--we need him to give us lessons," cried Elena,
starting for the dog. But Wickee must have understood, for he sprang in
before any one could approach him.