A team came rushing in between the gate-posts of the stone wall, and it looked like a run-away. They were riderless and driverless, and if there had been any harness, there was not a vestige of it to be seen; still, they kept neck and neck, which means in horsey language side by side, and on they came in the maddest fashion. Tattine stood on the front porch and watched them in high glee, and not a bit afraid was she, though they were coming straight in her direction. When they reached her they considerately came to a sudden stop, else there is no doubt whatever but she would have been tumbled over.

“Well, you are a team,” laughed Tattine, and they laughed back, “Yes, we know we are,” and sat down on the step on either side of her. Of course, that would have been a remarkable thing for some teams to do, but not for this one, for, as you can guess, they were just two little people, Mabel and Rudolph, but they were a perfect team all the same; everybody said so, and what everybody meant was this—that whatever Rudolph “was up to,” Mabel was “up to” also, and vice versa. They traveled together finely, right “up on the bit” all the time. It would have been easier for those who had charge of them if one or the other had held back now and then, and set a slower pace, but as that was not their nature and could not be helped, everybody tried to make the best of them, and everybody loved them. Tattine did not see how she could ever have lived without them, for they were almost as much a brother and sister to her as to each other. This morning hey had come over by invitation for what they called a Maple-wax morning, and that was exactly what it was, and if you have never had one of your own, wait till you read about this one of Tattine’s, and then give your dear Mamma no peace until you have had one, either in your kitchen in town, or in the woods out of town, which is better. One thing is necessary to its complete enjoyment, however: you must have a “sweet tooth,” but as most little people cut that particular tooth very early, probably you are among the fortunate number.

“Well, I don’t see what we are sitting here for,” said Mabel at last.

“Neither do I,” said Tattine; “I was only giving you a chance to get a little breath. You did not seem to have much left.”

“No more we had,” laughed Rudolph, who was still taking little swallows and drawing an occasional long breath, as people do when they have been exercising very vigorously. “But if everything is ready.” he added, “let us start.”

“Well, everything is ready,” said Tattine quite complacently, as she led the way to the back piazza, where “everything” was lying in a row. There was the maple sugar itself, two pounds of it on a plate, two large kitchen spoons, a china cup, two sheets of brown wrapping-paper, two or three newspapers, a box of matches, a pail of clear spring water, a hammer, an ice-pick, and last, and most important of all, a granite-ware kettle.

“Now if you’ll carry these,” explained Tattine, “I’ll run and tell Philip to bring the ice,” so Rudolph and Mabel “loaded up” and marched down to the camp, and Tattine disappeared in the direction of the ice-house. The camp was not far away, and consisted of a cosy little “A” tent, a hammock hung between two young chestnuts, and a fire-place made of a circle of stones on the ground, with a crane hanging above it. The crane was quite an elaborate contrivance, for which Joseph the gardener was to be thanked.

The long branch on which the pot hung was pivoted, if you know what that is, on an upright post fastened firmly in the ground, and in such a way that you could “higher it,” as Tattine said, or lower it, or swing it clear of the fire on either side. At the end of the branch away from the fire hung a chain, with a few blocks tied into it, for a weight, so that you lifted the weight with one hand when you wished to change the position of the branch with the other, and then let it rest on the ground again at the spot where you wanted the pole to stay. You see, the great advantage of this was that, when you wished to see how things were going on inside of the kettle, or to stop its boiling instantly—you could just swing it away from the fire in no time, and not run the risk of burning face or hands, or petticoats, if you belong to the petticoat family.`

“Now,” panted Tattine, for it was her turn to be breathless with running, “I’ll break the sugar if you two will make the fire, but Rudolph’s to light it and he’s the only one who is to lean over it and put the wood on when it’s needed. Mamma says there is to be a very strict rule about that, because skirts and fluffy hair like mine and Mabel’s are very dangerous about a fire,” and then Tattine proceeded to roll the maple sugar in the brown paper so as to have two or three thicknesses about it, and then, laying it upon a flat stone, began to pound and break it with the hammer.

“Yes,” said Rudolph, on his knees on the ground, and making balls of newspaper for the foundation of the fire; “it’s lucky for Mabel and me that fire is one thing about which we can be trusted.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if it’s the only thing,” laughed Tattine, whereupon Mabel toppled her over on the grass by way of punishment.

“No, but honest!” continued Rudolph, “I have just been trained and trained about fire. I know it’s an awfully dangerous thing. It’s just foolhardy to run any sort of risk with it, and it’s wise when you make a fire in the open air like this, to stand on the same side as the wind comes from, even if you haven’t any skirts or fluffy hair to catch.”

“Here’s some more wood, grandfather,” said Mabel solemnly, dumping an armful down at his side; “I should think you were eighty to hear you talk,” and then Mabel had her punishment by being chased down the path and plumped down rather hard in the veriest tangle of brambles and briars. It chanced, however, that her corduroy skirt furnished all the protection needed from the sharp little thorns, so that, like “Brer Rabbit,” she called out exultingly, “‘Born and bred in a briar-patch, Brer Rudolph, born and bred in a briar-patch,’” and could have sat there quite comfortably, no one`knows how long, but that she heard the maple sugar go tumbling into the kettle. And then she heard Tattine say, “A cup of water to two pounds, isn’t it?” Then she heard the water go splash on top of the maple sugar. Now she could stand it no longer, and, clearing the briars at one bound, was almost back at the camp with another.

By this time the fire was blazing away finely, and the sugar, with the help of an occasional stirring from the long-handled spoon in Rudolph’s hand, soon dissolved. Dissolving sometimes seems to be almost a day’s journey from boiling, and the children were rather impatient for that stage to be reached. At last, however, Rudolph announced excitedly, “It boils, it boils! and now I mustn’t leave it for a minute. More wood, Mabel! don’t be so slow, and, Tattine, hurry Philip up with that ice,” but Philip was seen at that moment bringing a large piece of ice in a wheelbarrow, so Tattine was saved that journey, and devoted the time instead to spreading out one of the pieces of wrapping-paper, to keep the ice from the ground, because of the dead leaves and “things” that were likely to cling to it.

“Now break off a good-sized piece, Tattine,” Rudolph directed, “and put it on a piece of paper near the fire,” but Tattine knew that was the next thing to do, so what was the use of Rudolph’s telling her? It happens quite frequently that people who are giving directions give too many by far.

“Now, Mabel,” continued the drum-major, “will you please bring some more wood, and will you please put your mind on it and keep bringing it? These little twigs that make the best fire burn out in a twinkling, please notice,” but Mabel did not hurry so very much for the next armful; since she could see for herself there was no great need for haste. Rudolph was simply getting excited, but then the making of maple-wax is such a very responsible undertaking, he could not be blamed for that. You need to stop its boiling at precisely the right moment, else it suddenly reaches the point where, when you cool it, it grows brittle like “taffy,” and then good-bye to maple-wax for that kettleful. So Rudolph, every half-minute, kept dripping little streams of the boiling sugar from the spoon upon the piece of ice, and Tattine and Mabel kept testing it with their fingers and tongues, until both at last exclaimed in one and the same breath, “It’s done! it’s done! Lift it off the fire quickly; it’s just right.” Just right means when the sugar hardens in a few seconds, or in a little more than half a minute, into a delicious consistency like—well, just like maple-wax, for there is nothing else in the world that I know of with which to compare it. Then the children seated themselves around the great cake of ice, and Rudolph, with the kettle on the ground beside him, tipped against a log of wood at just the right angle, continued to be master of ceremonies, and dipped spoonful after spoonful of the syrup, and let it trickle over the ice in queer fantastic shapes or in little, thin round discs like griddle-cakes. The children ate and ate, and fortunately it seems for some reason, to be the most harmless sweet that can be indulged in by little people.

“Well, I’ve had enough,” remarked Rudolph at the expiration of say a quarter of an hour, “but isn’t it wonderful that anything so delicious can just trickle out of a tree?” his unmannerly little tongue the while making the circuit of his lips in search of any lingering traces of sweetness.

“Trickle out of a tree!” exclaimed astonished Tattine.

“Why, yes, don’t you know that’s the way they make maple sugar? In the spring, about April, when the sap begins to run up into the maple-trees, and often while the snow is still on the ground, they what they call tap the tree; they drive a sort of little spout right into the tree and soon the sap begins to ooze out and drop into buckets that are placed to catch it. Afterwards they boil it down in huge kettles made for the purpose. They call it sugaring off, and it must be great fun.”

“Not half so much fun, I should think, as sugaring down,” laughed Mabel, with her right hand placed significantly where stomachs are supposed to be.

“And now I am going to run up to the house,” explained Tattine, getting stiffly up from a rather cramped position, “for three or four plates, and Rudolph, you break off some pieces of ice the right size for them, and we will make a little plateful from what is left for each one up at the house, else I should say we were three little greedies. And Mabel, while I am gone you commence to clear up.”

“Well, you are rather cool, Tattine,” said Mabel, but she obediently set to work to gather things together.

As you and I cannot be a bit of help in that direction, and have many of a clearing-up of our own to do, I propose that we lose not a minute in running away from that little camp, particularly as we have not had so much as a taste of the delicious wax they’ve been making.