Kitabı oku: «The Woodcraft Girls in the City», sayfa 10
“O Chief! Will you try and see Eleanor to-morrow and tell her of our plans for the Winter? Possibly the very fact of your seeking her to mention this meeting as an item of Tribe business will assure her that we all wish her to do her share in the undertaking,” said Miss Miller, as the meeting adjourned.
Zan sought out the wayward member although she disliked an errand like this one. She reported the different plans the Guide outlined for the girls and then told Eleanor to “get busy” on her bead trimming for a leather costume.
“Dear me, it is nothing but work, work, work, in your Lodge. Now I heard from a girl who is a Woodcrafter in Plainfield, and she says they have the jolliest times! They go to entertainments, have candy pulls, parties, and almost every week they all go to some place of amusement together. You never do that!” complained Eleanor.
“If that girl tells the truth and is a real Woodcrafter she combines pleasure with advancement. Maybe she considers a hike or a Council a party, and you misunderstood her. She may think she ‘is having the best of times’ going to a lecture which you misconstrue as a place of amusement. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what some folks think or do, Wako Tribe has a pattern of its own and it cuts its cloth accordingly,” replied Zan, not too humbly, for she felt impatient at the reception given her message from Miss Miller.
Eleanor shrugged her shoulders and Zan left her without another word, both feeling the occasion had been given for a better understanding but the result of it was a failure.
After the meeting at which the girls realised the many free resorts where Woodcraft coups could be won, they took new interest in home-work as well. Zan completed a set of rustic furniture made of the timber from the farm, and this set of table, two chairs, and two stools was decorated with Indian emblems.
“Dad, isn’t this a peachy set?” asked she when it was finished and standing on the wide rear porch for exhibition.
“It certainly is, Daughter. Now the question is, where shall we keep it until next Spring when we can ship it to the farm?” answered the doctor.
“Keep it? Why, in the parlour, of course!” declared Zan, frowning at the implied meaning in her father’s question.
“And sell the junk mother has there to a second hand dealer! Of course! how could I have been so stupid as to think otherwise,” replied Dr. Baker meekly. Zan studied his face but his expression was inscrutable.
“We-el-1 – I s’pose I might keep it in the library!” ventured she, as she pictured her mother’s solid-mahogany-frames-upholstered-silk-velour-furniture thrown on a scrap wagon.
“Maybe – I am only suggesting, of course – maybe we could ship it to the farm this Fall and store there until next Summer,” said the doctor.
“But I expect to use it all the time, Dad. Right this week I shall sit on the chair and use the table,” cried Zan.
“Then let us leave it just where it is for the time being as you need all the fresh air you can get during the fine Indian Summer weather. When the snow blows we can freight it to Wickeecheokee.”
Everyone Zan knew was brought to the house to admire the rustic furniture, but after a week of exhibiting she grew weary of repeating verbally the methods of manufacturing the set, and then she settled down to use it when at work on the bead-loom.
The table and a chair were carried to the birches still green, growing in one corner of the grass-plat, and here Zan wove the banding, her nimble fingers flying in and out, back and forth, as the bead trimming began to take on unique and pretty pictures of camp-life.
Now and then some of the other girls would join Zan and work on the looms, and at these visits tongues would talk of the many plans for Tribe activities that Winter.
“Do you see any improvement in Eleanor?” asked Jane, one day.
“Funny that you should ask me that. I asked Miss Miller the same thing this morning,” replied Zan.
“What did she say?” from Jane.
“She thought the change wrought for the better was more mental and spiritual than in material expression, but the results were bound to be apparent to everyone in time.”
“Guess it will be a long time, then!” retorted Jane.
“Miss Miller says we mustn’t feel that way about it. That we are killing the frail child of a weak but higher aspiration. If we train our thoughts to consider the motives and yearnings for a more harmonious life that the girl must have, we will not condemn and criticise her acts. It is the human judgment of thingsthat makes obstacles in the road of one’s advancement, she told me.”
“Dear me, I wish I was as good and wise as Miss Miller,” sighed Jane, gazing skyward.
“Say, you’re not the only one holding a mortgage on that wish! Every blessed girl of Wako Tribe tries to copy the model Guide,” said Zan, smilingly, as she remembered Fiji’s words: “If you knew as much as your Guide, what a wonderful sister you would be.”
Miss Miller had reports to make out that week-end so there was no hope of camping, but the girls felt they had so much to do in the city that the outing would not be missed. A plan was made for the following week, however, to camp on the Palisades. The Guide invited the girls to meet her for a short time in the gymnasium that Friday, to decide upon a location for the camp.
Miss Miller was not in the room when the girls gathered together, but she came in shortly afterward. Her face beamed with pleasant news and Zan immediately said:
“We know from your expression that you know something good!”
“Yes, I do, and the letter just came on the last mail. I just received the pass for our Band admitting us to the lectures and cinematograph pictures given at the National Museum of History in New York. They start next week and the course, which is on Indian Crafts and Folk Lore beginning with the Zuni Indians, will be of great interest and help to us. I want every one of you girls to try and attend these lectures with me, so better ask permission from your parents.”
“Oh, that is good news!” cried Elena.
“We sure are indebted to you, Miss Miller, for all the trouble you take for our enjoyment,” added Zan.
The other girls expressed their gratitude, too, and then the talk centered on the expectations of what these lectures would bring forth. Miss Miller saw the condition that often exists when folks are given something to look forward to in the near future – their thoughts fill with outlines and ideas of that which is to be, instead of living and making the best of that which is offered at the immediate present. The wise Guide knew that this form of mental picturing and outlining of things, still misty and indistinct to the individual, was an undesirable state of imagination so she quickly changed the current of their thoughts by saying:
“Girls, I have an odd Indian legend founded on the constellation of ‘Charles Wain.’ Want to hear it?”
Naturally every girl cried for the story and they sat down in a circle to listen.
CHAPTER ELEVEN – CAMP AT ALPINE FALLS
“This myth comes from the Tlingit Indians of Alaska and is named ‘The Wain House People,’” began Miss Miller.
“Certain Indians came to a fort to live, and after a time began killing bears, ground-hogs, porcupines, mountain sheep, and other animals for food. After they had killed them, they cut off the heads and set them up on sticks about the village, then the people sang to these objects.
“Now there was a young man among them who was to be Chief. When he was born he had been placed in a sheep’s skin instead of cradle. As he grew older he was able to follow the mountain sheep to places on the cliffs where no one else could go, hence he killed more sheep than anyone else.
“After he had cut off and mounted the heads of his sheep he, too, would sing and dance about them, saying tauntingly: ‘I wish I was a sheep! I wish my head was cut off too!’
“Meantime, the mountain sheep were becoming angry at losing so many of their flocks and one day, when the villagers went up for a great hunt, they met a flock of sheep that led them up the steep mountain-side to a place where they appeared to be herding together.
“But once near the sheep, the people were surprised to see them race still higher up the side of the steep rocks. The young hunter who wished to be a great chief ran after them and became separated from his companions. When on the very top of the peak he was met by a fine looking young man who shone like the sun and had a long white beard like the mountain ancients. This stranger turned to the youth who had been cradled in a sheep’s skin and invited him to his home. He led the way inside of the mountain where everything looked weird and strange. Great heaps of horns were piled everywhere, and the stranger said: ‘These are the horns I am keeping to fit to the heads of the villagers.’
“When the young man’s friends missed him they sought day and night without success, then they went home to plan how to rescue him. For many days the search was resumed until finally they discovered his horn-spear stuck in the ground near the top of the peak. But no other clue could they find although they kept up a search for many days.
“Then the villagers declared that he was lost to them and they wailed and beat the drums for the hunter who came not back.
“Now the shining stranger tried to fit a pair of horns on the young hunter’s head. They were heated and, when taken from the terrific fire that burned continually in the pit of the mountain, they were put upon and held to his head so that the poor hunter thought the insides of his head would be burnt out.
“During this trial, a few of the hunter’s friends still sought for him whenever they hunted on the mountain-side, and after a year’s time, a young man climbed up the peak after a flock of mountain sheep, and there he heard someone shout to him. He knew it was the friend who had been lost. He shouted back, but the lost friend began singing and saying: ‘I must go now, the shining stranger comes and will find me.’
“The young man ran back to the village and told everyone what he had heard. They were surprised to hear that a stranger lived on top of the mountain, but one old villager said: ‘It must be the Man-of-the-Sun-shining-on-the-Mountain-Peaks.’
“So they set out to capture all the sheep that lived on that mountain, knowing that the Man-of-the-Sun would try to prevent his sheep from being killed. Then they would bargain for the life of their friend in exchange for the sheep.
“Now the sheep that lived on the very peak of the mountain could see down into the valleys when the villagers went out to hunt. And they said to the young man: ‘Your people come again to kill all the sheep. Tell them, therefore, that if they will throw away their weapons we will let you go, but if they persist in killing our flocks we will also kill you.’
“The young captive then went out on the very edge of the cliff and called down to his people: ‘The sheep say they will send me back if you will give up the chase of their flocks. Now you must hear them or I shall be thrown into the pit of fire.’
“But the young hunter who heard the voice called back: ‘We must have food. What shall we do without sheep?’
“Then an old ram came up to the captive and said: ‘Tell them if they must have us for food, they can at least hang up our sheep-skins on the poles which hold our heads. If the heads and skins are faced toward the rising sun our Chief will bring us all safely home again for another time. If you stick eagles’ feathers on our skins we can fly from your village without trouble. You should mount the heads of grizzly bears on poles and face them toward the night. For they are wicked animals.’
“So the captive repeated the words of the ram and when he had finished speaking he was hurried back inside the mountain for fear his friends would shoot at and kill the sheep waiting on the peak.
“And the people did try to kill the sheep and recover their friend, and so many of the flock were killed and carried away that the Man-of-the-Shining-Sun came out and spoke.
“‘This is the last time the mountain sheep will talk with you. If your people will not do as we say, then I will kill you. But if they will listen to you and will not make war on the sheep till Fall, when we always go down from the peaks to graze in the timber lands below the glacier, then they can come with their dogs and save you.’
“In the Autumn, therefore, the people prepared to make a great hunt and kill sheep for Winter food. The sheep were already in the timber lands below the glacier and when the villagers came up the side of the mountain the Man-of-the-Shining-Sun sent the captive down the steep cliff to meet his friends. As he stood there with horns on his head and a sheep-skin covering his body, the dogs thought he was a sheep and charged upon him. But they soon recognised a friend and ran back to bark for the hunters.
“When the villagers heard the story they promised they would not kill any sheep that year, but hunt for grizzlies and deer for food. They broke their spears and other weapons and threw them over the side of the cliff, and as they did so the horns fell off and the sheep-skin disappeared from the young man’s form. And he stood forth strong and courageous as ever; his people found he smelled like the things that grow up on top of the mountains where the wind and sky and earth are pure and sweet.
“The people were happy and escorted him to the village. The moment he saw the sheep-skins lying about he said: ‘Dampen these and hang them up on poles with feathers stuck to them. Place them facing the rising sun as I promised the ram we would do.’
“When the skins were ready to mount the young man painted each face red and stuck eagles’ down on the backs. As he hung each skin facing the sun he said: ‘You are in just the position your Chief ordered, now fly away.’
“Early the next morning the fort shook as with a mighty earth-quake and every piece of flesh that had been eaten from the sheep-skins was replaced by new flesh, and as the young chief opened the door of his wigwam the sheep-skins, now plumped out and alive again, ran away towards the mountain.
“But, strange to say, the sheep-skins had been so long with the people that many of them had beards when their skins filled out again. And many of the sheep forgot their mountain habits and wandered about at the foot of the cliffs, so that they became tame and lived with men ever after.
“After the sheep were sent back to the mountains, the Man-of-the-Shining-Sun on the Mountain Peak sent a good spirit to the young chief who had obeyed and kept his promise. The spirit would be his strength so that he could do anything he wanted done.
“At the gift presented to their young chief the people rejoiced greatly, and made him a pair of snowshoes, a shaman’s mask, and many bows and arrows. Then the chief ordered the people to come to him. They were then at Fort-by-a-small-lake, which was west of Juneau City, and there they built a big house for the chief with a good spirit. On the door-posts of this house they carved the signs of the Great Dipper. Then the shaman fasted four days and four nights and when the constellation appeared and blessed the people, those people were called Wain House People and have been so called ever since.”
“There isn’t much hidden truth in that legend,” said Zan, who felt disappointed with the story.
“I liked it, all right,” said Elena.
“It’s a queer tale – some of those Indian stories are so impossible as to be ridiculous,” commented Hilda.
“In our translations perhaps, but we must remember that many words in the Eskimo are impossible to translate properly and still retain beauty and sense. But the story goes to show that at a remote age the Alaskan Indians knew and named the ‘Wain,’ even as the present age does.”
The week-end determined upon for a camp on the Hudson proved to be perfect October weather, and great was the buzzing about the gymnasium as the girls packed their outfits and waited for the three autos to carry them to the nearest place for the Alpine camp.
Miss Miller had heard much about the wild grandeur and beauty of Alpine in the Autumn, and she had pictured a beautiful place of Nature. But she was disappointed when the cars stopped on the Fort Lee road and Jim said:
“This is as far as we can safely go.”
The girls were compelled, therefore, to carry their outfits across the stubbly fields to reach the woods that fringed the river cliffs. The chauffeurs gave all the assistance they could, and when the woods were reached they left to return home, while the campers struggled on to find a suitable site.
The entire area along the Palisades had been purchased as city property and was being ploughed over; diseased timber was cut down, and down timber chopped up ready to remove, when the Tribe first caught a glimpse of the place. Wherever a clearing had been, was now used for piling up refuse, stones, and brushwood. The day was unusually warm for the season and the heavy packs which had to be carried to camp did not help anyone to feel more cheerful.
“Oh, this is awful! I wish I had never come!” complained Eleanor, stopping every other moment to gasp and rest.
“It isn’t very alluring, I must admit,” said Miss Miller, as disappointed as the others.
“Great Caesar’s ghost! What are they going to do with this upside-down area!” finally cried Nita, as she caught her toe in some half-buried trash and fell head-long into a rut newly ploughed that week.
“It’s in the throes of being transformed into a Park!” laughed Zan.
“Oh no!” called Jane, “this is the evolution of a dancing floor for Nita.”
After many stumblings and grumblings, the Tribe reached the cool shadows of the woodland where they found a plain trail running along the crest of the river bank. Zan led the way and after they had gone some distance through the dense woods she came to a natural clearing that projected far over on the cliff. She went out there and instantly dropped her pack.
“Oh! Come here and see the wonderful view!” shouted she.
Everyone dropped the tiresome luggage and gladly ran out to join Zan.
“Ah! This repays us for all the toil and hardships endured,” exclaimed Miss Miller, with clasped hands, admiring the view.
From the point where they stood, hundreds of feet above the majestic Hudson, they could see up and down the river for miles. The city of Yonkers was opposite, and the river-craft plying the Hudson provided interesting scenes to the girls. The gorgeous colouring of foliage on both sides of the river clothed the hills and cliffs with beautiful tones made by Nature’s paint-brush. The air was sweet and warm, and crickets, some late birds, and insects added their voices to the general music of the Falling Leaf Moon.
“I wish we could camp near here,” ventured Jane.
“I thought I heard running water before you joined me. Maybe we can find a brook or spring,” suggested Zan.
“I heard there was a beautiful bit of water here called Alpine Falls. If we could only find it!” said Miss Miller.
“Let’s separate and scout for it. Leave the baggage here for the time,” responded Zan.
But they had not far to search, for Zan had heard falling water, part way down the steep Palisades, falling from a great height on a rocky peak to a glen beneath. The stream that fed the falls had worn a narrow but deep gully on top of the cliffs, and Miss Miller was the one to discover it as she sought for a good camp-site. A rustic bridge spanned the ravine and a path led a circuitous way down to the ledge where the Falls formed a foamy pool before running over its rocky basin to tumble recklessly on down to join the river.
Miss Miller wished to assure herself that it would be a safe spot for so many girls to camp, so she followed the path to the ledge and there saw a rustic sign nailed to a tree, “Alpine Falls – no camping allowed on this ledge.”
She climbed back again and called to the Tribe to join her. They were delighted with the place, and when Miss Miller told them of the sign they agreed to camp at the clearing on the point and use the Falls for cooking and wash water.
“I hope to goodness no one here is a sleep-walker,” laughed Zan, waving a hand in the direction of the precipice.
“No one here guilty of that habit!” replied Miss Miller.
So camp was pitched and preparations for supper well under way before Jane said: “We forgot to think of a swim.”
“Too late! Besides, we’ll have to crawl down this wall and see if there is any sort of a place where we can get in,” answered Zan.
That evening they enjoyed riddles, charades, and Nita danced a wild flower dance she had invented. Miss Miller told them of some of her interesting experiences while travelling in Egypt and the Old World, and then to bed.
Early in the morning, Zan turned over in her tiny cot and yawned. Awake in an instant, she sat up and sniffed.
“Who’s baking breakfast gems? They smell fine!”
She jumped up and peeped from the flap of the tent. At a good camp-fire she saw the funniest baker she ever thought possible to utilise. But no one was about, so she crept out in her pajamas and grass slippers to investigate.
On a smooth stick safely driven into the ground near enough to the camp-fire to warrant a steady heat reaching it, was twisted a long flat strip of dough. It began to wind about the stick from the bottom and ended near the top. As it baked and browned on the side nearest the fire, a delightful aroma came from it and permeated the air.
“Well, I never! If this isn’t the most ingenious device!” murmured Zan, chuckling to herself.
“Watching my bread-twist, Zan?” called a voice, and Zan looked over to see the Guide coming from the Falls where she had had a cold bath.
“Yes, but I was wondering how to give the offside a chance to brown?” replied Zan.
“I’ll show you – simple as anything.” And Miss Miller merely took hold of the top-end of the stick and gave it a sharp turn. Naturally the bread turned with it, and the side that was brown was now facing away from the fire while the other side was turned toward it to bake and brown.
Zan laughed and nodded her head approvingly, then glanced at the other breakfast food cooking. Cereal was boiling in a pot hanging over the fire where the bread was baking, and apples were stewing in a saucepan.
“Did we bring apples yesterday?” asked she.
“No, but I found a little old tree down the trail and most of these were picked up from the ground. Don’t they smell good?”
“Um-m! Should say they did. But tell me, Miss Miller – did you stay up all night to work like this?”
“Hardly! I got up an hour ago and mixed the bread dough, then started the fire. After that I wanted to see what kind of a country was back there, and I found the apples. When they were stewing and the cereal on boiling, I went for my morning wash.”
“I’ll run in and wash and dress, then I’ll be back to help,” said Zan, starting off for the tent.
Hilda was already up and dressing when Zan ran in, and both girls chattered so noisily about the bread-twist that the others awoke and jumped out of bed.
When Zan and Hilda returned to the camp-fire the Guide asked Hilda to broil the ham while Zan spread the breakfast cloth.
“What can I do?” asked Jane, coming over.
“You can get a pail of fresh water from the Falls and fill the cups at each plate,” returned the Guide.
That breakfast was appreciated thoroughly by everyone, for the bread was hot and crisp and the ham fried as brown as any ever served by Southern cook.
“After we finish breakfast and have cleared away the dishes, we must explore the immediate neighbourhood to find out if we are on a main trail where visitors are liable to come and interrupt our peace,” said Miss Miller.
The camp chores done, the Tribe started for a hike, intending to circle their camp-site and look for possible intruders. They had followed the trail but a short distance before Miss Miller spied some fine white birches. Some of these had been cut down as being in the way for the proposed roadways of the park. The Guide immediately found a use for the large sheets of bark that were peeling from the trunks.
“Girls, we will postpone our scouting for a time when there is no important work at hand, but now do let us collect as much of this splendid birch bark while it is offered us without damaging standing trees.”
The Guide then showed the eager Woodcrafters how to peel the bark to keep it in large sections and not split it into strips. When everyone was laden with as much bark as could possibly be carried, they started for camp and deposited their freight on the ground.
“You need not waste a bit of this bark – even this bit will make the outside of a dainty pen-wiper. It can be cut oblong and decorated with gold-paint. With leaves of felt or flannel between the two sections, and these tied together with a cord or ribbon, it makes a pretty memento.”
“I suppose Miss Miller will find endless ways to use this tinder, just as she did for the sea-shore pebbles and shells,” remarked May, laughingly.
“I can think of enough ideas right now to keep you girls busy until Christmas,” rejoined the Guide, also laughingly.
“For instance?” questioned Zan, curious to hear the items.
“Well, you can make needle-cases, pin-cushions, boxes for neckties for the boys, boxes for handkerchiefs for parents, picture frames, veneering for rustic furniture, Tally Book covers, camp utensils – such as dishes, pots, pans, and platters, toilet sets, and many other things.”
“That’s right! I never thought of using birch bark for such things,” declared Elena.
“Make a record of it in the Tally!” teased Zan, for Elena was acquiring the habit of entering everything in that book.
“If we should find any sweet grass on our walks while here, we must be sure and gather it, as it is what is needed to sew up the seams of birch bark. If the grass is wound about with red linen thread it makes it much stronger and looks pretty, too. The bark must be punched with a row of holes so the grass-binding can pass through without tearing. I think we have a punch at home such as children use in a kindergarten school.”
“Miss Miller, do you know of other articles to make out of wild-wood things?” asked May, with awe at the Guide’s knowledge.
“Well, I think pine cones make the oddest and prettiest things. The small cones combined with birch bark are lovely. I have made frames by glueing cones in patterns on thin bark-covered wooden frames. I have a large picture of George Washington at home that I framed in this way years ago. Then, too, I will show you a work-box that I made for my mother. It was made of a cigar-box and covered with bark. On top of the lid, and about the sides, I glued different kinds of cones and stems. Then I varnished the whole thing and it was beautiful, in my estimation. It has lasted to this day, and I made it over five years ago.”
“I waxed some Autumn leaves last year and we used them over the windows and doors until Christmas time. Everyone said they looked so pretty,” said Elena.
“Why can’t we gather some of these beautiful leaves and do the same thing with them, Miss Miller?” asked Jane, eagerly.
“We must wax them with sperm and iron them as soon as they are cut from the branches. You see, the colours remain exactly the same as when they were gathered if you wax them before they have time to dry. Whole branches can be waxed this way and used for decorative purposes. Florists to-day use great masses of waxed Autumn leaves in their exhibits, or for back-grounds through the Winter months. But care must be taken when ironing the spermaceti over the leaves that the hot iron does not touch the stem or wood of the branch. If it does, the leaf will immediately fall off.”
So much time had been taken by the collecting and descriptions of articles made of birch bark, that it was noon before anyone dreamed it was more than ten o’clock.
“Girls, we ought to find a place for a swim and then have lunch. After that we will seek for a neighbour – if there are any on this crest,” said Miss Miller.
But the girls could find no way to get down the steep cliff-side unless they went a long way back. So they gave up the hope of a swim that day and started off to seek for adventure.
They had gone about a mile in a new direction when one of the girls glimpsed a fine old mansion painted so nearly like the green and russet colouring of the woods that it was difficult to distinguish it from its beautiful setting.
“No wonder we didn’t see it before,” remarked Zan, gazing at its dark brown shingled sides and green roof.
“It doesn’t seem occupied. Maybe the people do not live here,” suggested Elena.
“There’s a rustic fence with a gate. I can see a notice hanging on the gate – let’s see what it says,” called Jane, who was in advance of the others.
In a few moments the Band stood reading the sign. “No trespassing on these grounds under penalty of the law.”
“We’re not on their land yet, but it’s a shame to have a fence cut off an adventure right in the middle of a trail!” pouted Nita.
“It may prove a far more thrilling adventure to sit here and try to explain the reason for closed shutters and an abandoned house at this time of year,” ventured Miss Miller.
Even as she spoke, a gardener came forward along a side path, and doffed his cap.
“I heared your voices an’ I sure was s’prised to find a lot of school-girls. You – all seldom come as far as this. The ‘Annabell’ – that’s the launch runnin’ from Yonkers to Alpine and back agin – generally leaves ’em at the foot of the cliff where they picnic.”
“We saw the sign and wondered if we were trespassing out here?” replied Miss Miller, in a questioning voice.
“Not at all! In fack, it would be all right for ladies to walk through the groun’s when no one’s home. The family’s gone for the season now. We have to keep the sign up, just the same, to keep out the roughs from the city who would destroy the trees and flowers fer nothin’. Would you like to come in?” asked the old man, politely.
“I think not, thank you. We are camping down on the point by the Falls, and this was an afternoon hike. Now we will go back and hunt for a spot where we can bathe,” explained the Guide. “I kin help you there. I haven’t gone down to take up the two boats yet, or remove the portable bath-house we have on the beach, an’ you’se are welcome to use both boats and house if it will accommodate you.”
