Part 20 (1/2)
”Are we all here?” questioned Mrs. Morrow, as she stood on the veranda steps, craning her neck from one side to the other in the endeavor to see that her bird groups were all there. In her natty khaki suit, with its red-banded sombrero and red tie, she looked as jaunty and young as the Bluebirds, Bob Whites, and Orioles, who, with admiring eyes, watched her as they stood lined up on the path with knapsacks, staffs, and all the paraphernalia needed for the hike.
The several bird calls attested that the band were all on hand, and then they filed up on the veranda before their Director as lunch-baskets were opened for inspection, so that she could see that each one had been properly prepared and was in a ”relishy condition,” as Helen explained to Nathalie.
In a few moments the inspection was over and the girls tripped merrily down the walk and out of the gate, making such a hubbub with the clatter of their tongues that the doctor, as he came hurriedly up the path, teasingly put his fingers in his ears in intimation that they were making undue clamor.
The Flower of the Family's knapsack bulged with a package of Aunt Jemima's Pancake Flour, suggestive of the flapjacks to be, while the Editor-in-chief, with a reporter-like air, carried a large note-book under her arm so as to feature the affair in the forthcoming ”Pioneer.”
The Encyclopedia was lumbered with two musty volumes on flower lore, she explained, so as to be able to give all desired information on the various specimens that were to be gathered by the hikers.
The Pot-Boiler's knapsack was not only stuffed with several mysterious-looking packages, but was glaringly conspicuous, that young lady, true to her name, having pasted a paper advertis.e.m.e.nt of an iron pot on its cover. The Sport carried a few garden implements: a small shovel, a rake, and a hoe, with which to burrow in the ground for those specimens that grew in a brook or in the mossy hollows in the woods. The Tike, as the privileged f.a.g, carried a basket to fill with wild-flowers to be distributed to the shut-ins of the town hospital on their return.
Each Pioneer, besides her lunch-box, carried a self-made note-book-Nathalie had spent several hours making hers-with a pencil attached for her flower specimens, data, and so forth. Nathalie felt a bit disappointed that she had not been able to buy a uniform, although Helen had said that it made no difference, for she noticed to her dismay that she was the only Pioneer minus that very desirable accessory, dear to the heart of every hiker.
The girls had gone but half a block when a sudden cry of pleasure rippled through the line. Then, as one Pioneer, the girls gave their call in welcome to Dr. Homer, who, as Mrs. Morrow explained, was to take the place usually occupied by her husband, when the Pioneers were on a long hike.
The doctor responded by giving the Boy Scout salute as he stood a moment with raised hat. When the girls filed by, to Nathalie's surprise he stepped to her side and asked, as he smiled in recognition, ”May I have the pleasure of hiking with you?”
Nathalie's cheeks bloomed pink at the remembrance of their last meeting, but her eyes brightened as she nodded an a.s.sent. Perhaps some of the girls felt a little envious as they saw whom the doctor had selected for the favor of his company, as he was a great favorite and had always proved a delightful companion. But they quickly stifled any feeling that jarred, as each one remembered that she had had her turn, and that now it was Nathalie's opportunity to have this pleasure as the new Pioneer.
And Nathalie's turn added a zest and enjoyment to her first hike that was long remembered, for through Dr. Homer's kindness in imparting to her many stray bits of knowledge she was able to hide her greenness in wood-lore, bird-lore, and many of the activities in which the other Pioneers were so proficient.
The Pioneers had barely reached the open when the Sport and one of the Orioles were despatched by the Director to blaze a trail. In order to give this advance corps a chance to get ahead, the rest of the company rested on the road, sitting down on the gra.s.s, or on some decayed tree trunk, while others practiced wall-scaling, among them Nathalie and the doctor, the latter acting as their instructor.
This scaling feat meant stepping carefully upon the ledge of a stone wall that skirted the road, and then springing down as quickly and lightly as possible, so as not to dislodge stray stones and bring them rattling after one. This forerunner of other feats to come led the doctor to tell how a Scout practiced wall-scaling; sometimes by standing on the shoulders of another Scout, and then climbing a high wooden fence, which was claimed by many to be a more difficult performance than scaling a stone wall. This, of course, proved an incentive for the girls to do their best, especially Nathalie, who as a city-bred girl did not want to prove a laggard.
A few minutes later, as they resumed their tramp, Nathalie's face grew radiant as she suddenly spied a tree near with a penknife notch on the bark. ”Oh, girls, here is the trail! Go this way!” she cried excitedly, pointing as she spoke to the notched sign of a twig bent at the end, making it look somewhat like the point of a broken arrow. As she was coming to be a zealous student of the bent-twig signs, the trail-blazing system invented for the Pioneers, she explained a number of these bent-twig signs to the doctor, who was deeply interested and not only told of the many signs used by the Scouts, but showed her the trees that were the easiest to cut.
Chatting, laughing, and singing-for the girls vied with the birds in their joyousness that summer morning-making bird calls, alternating with notch-making and flower-gathering made the time pa.s.s swiftly. The new Pioneer was amazed when Dr. Homer pulled out his watch and looking at his pedometer said that they had walked four miles, and that in a short time they would hit the wood trail, where they were to camp for dinner.
Nathalie's flower-box was soon full of specimens that she had gathered from the roadside and the meadow where her lesson in wall-scaling came in handy. Perhaps this wild flower hunt proved but a small part of her pleasure, for as she strolled along the doctor proved most companionable as he coached her in hike knowledge.
Never walk over anything you can go around, he had told her, and never step on anything you can step over, for every time you step on anything you lift the weight of your body, which makes more to carry when tramping. He also made her laugh heartily when he insisted upon examining the footwear of the hikers, expounding as he did so upon the foolishness of damsels in general, who would insist upon wearing shoes either too big or too small for them. The small shoes, he said, crowded the feet, and the big ones added extra weight, and made them road-weary before the tramp was half over.
He also told her about the weather signs; a low cloud moving swiftly indicated coolness; hard-edged clouds, wind; rolled or jagged clouds, strong wind; and a mackerel sky, a whole day of fair weather. Nathalie, perhaps to show this young man with the smiling gray eyes who looked at you so fearlessly that she, too, did know just a tiny bit about weather signs, sang softly:
”Hark to the East Wind's song from the sea, Blowing the misty clouds o'er lea; Shaking the sheaves of golden grain With the patter of the rain; Giving the earth a cooling drink, Was.h.i.+ng the flow'rs a brighter pink.
Hark to the West Wind's song of cheer Bringing blue sky and weather clear; Driving away the clouds so gray Filling the earth with sunlight's ray; Cheering the hearts of those who mourn, Filling the dark with golden dawn.”
When the little lecture had ended she had learned that when a slack rope tightens, when smoke beats down, when the sun is red in the morning, or when there is a yellowish or greenish sunset it means rain; how to tell which way the wind blows by pulling blades of gra.s.s and then letting the wind blow them, or to suck your thumb and let the wind blow around it, the cool side telling the tale.
To be sure, they were all simple things to learn, but they were the essentials of life, as the doctor said, who had a most jolly manner of giving his stray bits of information, all the while making so much sport, as he ambled on, that Nathalie was sure she would remember everything he had told her.
When the girls reached the wood with its cool, damp shade, moss-grown paths, and running brooklet, they set to work with renewed vigor to hunt for specimens. The Sport, notwithstanding the fun the girls had made of her garden implements, found that they were in great demand. For a time she was the star hiker, as first one and another pleaded, ”Oh, Edith, just let me have that rake a minute!” or, ”Oh, I see the dandiest little blue flower here in this crevice!” and so on.
When they finally grew tired of flower-hunting they pushed their way to a level s.p.a.ce in the open on the edge of the woods, where knapsacks, frying-pans, pots, and all such camping utensils were hastily thrown on the gra.s.s, and the girls hied themselves to the spring to wash their heated cheeks and rearrange their tangled tresses. Some, more venturesome than the others, took off their shoes and stockings and waded in the brook's cooling flow, while the older ones, summoned by a series of bird calls, hurried back to camp to prepare dinner.
To their delight, as the girls returned from the spring, they found that Dr. Homer had built an Indian ”wickiup,” that is a dome-shaped wigwam, by sticking in the ground in a circle a number of limber poles. The ones the doctor had used were willow wands, but almost any kind of a bough would do, he claimed. He then showed the girls how he had bent the tops of each pair of opposites or poles forward until they met. The ends were then interlocked and tied firmly. Over this impromptu wigwam-for it had been made with no tool but his strong penknife-he had thrown a blanket shawl.
The girls were all much interested in the Indian wigwam for this was the simplest way of making a tent, and they examined it eagerly. They were especially interested when the doctor told them that one time when he had lost his trail up in the Maine woods, he had made a dome-shaped wigwam and had rested in its shelter, high and dry, during a severe storm.