The Woodcraft Girls in the City Part 20

"Girls, show our visitors the dance-song of 'Summertime,'" suggested the Guide.

The Band then performed the song to graceful steps and motions and the audience loudly applauded when it was finished.

"Mother, why can't I stay over-night with Elizabeth and the other, girls-Zan says they can find lots of room for a little girl like me,"

pleaded Edith.

"Yes, do allow the child to remain with us. It is only for one night, you know," added Miss Miller.

"Why, you seem to have so many already, that I would not like to add to the care," responded Mrs. Remington, doubtfully.

"I'll be so good, mother, that it will be no care!" begged Edith.

"And we will look after her, mother," added Elizabeth.

"I wanna stay, too!" now demanded the youthful Theodore Roosevelt Remington, aged four.

"No, no, Baby, Mother needs you at home!" quickly said Edith.

To the little girl's delight, she was permitted to remain and the others started for home, leaving the weary hostesses to seek tents and cots where all were soon fast asleep, despite the mosquitoes.

CHAPTER EIGHT-QUIET WAYS FOR SUNDAY

At breakfast the following morning, Miss Miller said: "This being Sunday, we must find a quiet form of enjoyment."

"That won't deprive us of a swim, will it?" asked some of the anxious campers.

"Why no, but I do not think we ought to shout or dance or do the noisy or boisterous things that are permissible on a week-day."

"Let's discuss it later. I am having such a fine time with this breakfast at present," said Zan, munching a mouthful of delicious camp-biscuit.

"So say we all of us," laughed Jane, eyeing the platter that was in Fiji's hands. It held two fish-cakes and she was keen for one of them.

"These fish-cakes made of the left-over fish of yesterday and that steamed brown rice, are the finest I ever tasted," remarked Fiji.

"Well, for pity's sake take one and pa.s.s the other this way," ordered Jane, losing patience as she saw Fiji compare the two to help himself to the larger one.

"I wanted the one left," ventured Jack, teasingly.

"I'm the oldest, Jack, and so I have first choice!"

Everyone laughed at the twins as they generally argued this point of the hour's difference in age, when it was a question of one obeying the other.

"You may be oldest but I am handsomest, and besides I have always been delicate. The doctor told Mom to give me more fis.h.!.+" retorted Jack.

"Hem-yes! They claim that fish is food for the brain, and goodness knows, you need something to develop that atrophied grey matter!"

taunted Jane, reaching for the platter.

"Children! As Chief of this Tribe I cannot have such talk, hence I will eat the fish-cake myself!" declared Zan, taking the platter Fiji pa.s.sed, and helping herself to the last bit.

Everyone laughed at the outcome of the argument, and Jane sighed while Jack smacked his lips as he watched the Chief make a great to-do over the final crumb of fish.

"While we wash dishes and clear camp the boys can go and bring in fire-wood for this noon. Then we can have a story, if you like, until it is time to have a dip," said the Guide, as they all got up from the gra.s.s.

"No sooner said than done!" answered Fred, starting for the woods.

When the ch.o.r.es were done, the campers gathered about the Guide who proposed that they go to the cliff and sit on the sand to hear the tale.

"Who's turn is it for a legend?" asked Elena, after they had found comfortable positions on the warm sand.

"Doesn't matter whose-we always vote for Miss Miller," replied Hilda.

A chorus of "How's!" approved this suggestion and the Guide smiled.

"Let me see! I think I will tell you a Tlingit Myth. It is called 'The Wolf Chief's Son.'

"Famine visited a certain place in Alaska one time and many people died of starvation. But there was a young boy who always went to the forest with bow and arrow to hunt food for his family and friends and was never selfish about giving it to others.

"One day, as he was hunting, he found a little animal that looked like a puppy dog. This he placed under his blanket and carried home. When he washed it carefully and took it to his mother to see, she knew it was a wild forest dog.

"The boy then painted the dog's face and feet with some red paint left him by an uncle and when he again went to the forest to hunt he took the dog with him. There the little animal ran about and brought his master grouse, birds, and other game, so the boy could carry home more food than ever before. And this was cooked in a basket-pot by his mother.

"The next day, the boy again put red paint on the feet and nose of the dog, that he might trace the little fellow as he ran through the woods.

That day the game caught by the dog kept all the boy's friends from starving.

"One day, after the boy had traced the red trail made by the dog a long way into the forest, he found the little animal had found and killed a mountain sheep. This was taken home and the fat part given to the dog as a reward. The rest of the sheep kept the boy's kindred alive that week.

"The next time the boy and his wild dog went hunting, they found a large flock of mountain sheep. The dog ran in and killed every one for his master. The best one was cut open and the dog was fed the tenderest part and the other sheep were enough to keep most of the villagers from starving.

"Then the boy's brother-in-law grew jealous of the many kind things the villagers said of the boy who hunted and brought in so much food. He went to the boy and said: 'I wish to hunt and want to borrow, your dog.'

"The boy did not like to loan to another the little wild forest companion he had become attached to, so he asked: 'What do you want of my dog?'

"'It is doing great things for you and I too wish to find food without striving hard for it,' replied the man.

"The boy sighed but his sister implored him to do as her husband asked, so the boy brought his little dog and carefully painted his feet and face. Then he turned to his brother-in-law and said:

"'When he kills a sheep, be sure and feed him the best part. I always do that and the dog knows it.'

"The man took the dog and they went to the mountain where a flock of sheep was grazing. The dog ran in and soon killed every one of them, but the hunter cut open an old ram and threw the entrails in the dog's expectant face, saying, 'Dogs eat the insides when a man needs the tidbits and outside flesh of an animal.'

"The little dog stood motionless for a moment, then, instead of eating the entrails as ordered, ran straight up the mountain-side yelping and crying pitifully, for the gall smarted as it ran into his eyes.

"The man laughed and carted home the sheep, but the boy looked about quickly and said: 'Where is my little dog?'