The bright sunshine peered straight into Miss Miller's face in the morning and invited her to listen to the singing of birds, the busy clucking of chickens, and the swish of the pines that stood near her window, at the back of the house.

She leaped from bed and sighed with happiness at the picture of rural beauty before her. But how could the noise of thrifty chickens reach her when Sherwood's cottage was so far away?

"I must investigate!" murmured Miss Miller, as she quickly dressed and crept downstairs. Out of the back door took another minute and she stood on the kitchen stoop looking eagerly about. From the direction of the carriage-sheds came the sound.

"I must call and say good-morning," said the teacher, and forthwith ran along the path until the out-houses were reached.

There, sure enough, was a scolding hen with a dozen chicks misbehaving with all their might, and a few other sedate hens, intent upon breakfast.

"Bill must have brought them over yesterday. I'm glad for the girls' sake, as it will be part of their education—becoming acquainted with all manner of creatures."

Miss Miller cheeped, too, and attracted one of the small yellow balls of down and soon had it cuddled up to her face. The mother-hen, albeit she had been scolding a moment previous, now flew into hysterics at the threatened kidnapping of her chick.

"Poor little mother! Did you think I would rob you of a child?" laughed Miss Miller, as she carefully placed the little chick in the grass. Then, taking a deep breath of fresh morning air, she walked back to the house.

"I suppose the children are tired after yesterday! I must guard myself and not be too critical and severe with them—they are still young and only partially developed, both mind and body!"

She reached the kitchen and started preparations for breakfast. While the cereal was boiling and the kettle singing, she gathered a bouquet of flowers from a roundel on the front lawn. These gave fragrance to the table, and by the time the dishes were all placed, the cereal was cooked.

"High time they were up!" quoth Miss Miller, as she went upstairs to rouse the girls.

But Zan, a true country girl, had been awake for some time and enjoyed the fresh morning breeze from her window.

"Did you make friends with Groutch?" asked she, as Miss Miller smiled a good-morning to her.

"Groutch—who's Groutch?" pondered the teacher.

"Why, the old hen! She's always quarrelling with friends or family, so we named her Groutch," laughed Zan.

"Oh—the hen! I wondered how she got there? Did you see me talking to her?" replied Miss Miller.

Zan laughed delightedly at an opportunity to correct the teacher. "No—I saw you there but heard you talking!"

"One for you, Zan! That casts discredit on my early morning thinking apparatus, doesn't it?" said Miss Miller, laughing at her own expense. "But tell me—did Bill bring the chickens?"

"Thereby hangs a tale," giggled Zan, turning her back and asking Nita to hook the centre of her dress-waist.

The other girls came in to hear a possible story, and Zan explained the presence of Groutch and her friends.

"Last summer Fiji had the chicken-raising fever and we let him have the carriage-house for his venture. He succeeded, too, but Fall came and we had to go back to the city. He had sold half his chickens to mother during the late summer, and wanted to sell the other half to friends in the city, but Daddy didn't like the idea of that. Finally, the butcher in Junction took all he had, and when it came time to deliver the chickens on our way home, not a sign of Groutch and the three other hens could we find! We had to leave with only the spring chickens. A day after we got home Bill Sherwood wrote Fiji that the hens all came back to roost outside the house the same night. Fiji wrote for him to take them to the butcher the first time he went to Junction. And, Miss Miller, you can believe me or not, those hens skiddooed every time Bill Sherwood planned to catch them! After several vain trials, he sent word to Fiji that he was done with chicken chasing! How we laughed at that letter!"

"How remarkable! And I never gave chickens credit for any intelligence!" said Miss Miller.

"No, and most folks think they are stupid things; why, you know the slang saying, 'crazy as a hen,'" added Nita.

"Well, they're not! Why, that Groutch wouldn't even go to live in Bill's chicken coop with his flock. No siree! She just sulked about here until Bill had to open the carriage house for her to make her nest again. Then, he cut a small opening near the door so she could get in and out when the door was locked. In the next day or two, Bill missed the other hens from his chicken-house where they had been contented. And what do you think! That sly old hen had gone after them and led them back to their original home—and there they've stayed ever since! Whenever we come down to visit the farm those daffy old hens cluck and wriggle about Fiji's feet as if he were the Prince and they his subjects!"

"I think that is lovely! To think of those hens showing their joy and recognition that way!" exclaimed Miss Miller, amazed.

"Daddy says that Fiji has the true Nature instinct, for every animal he meets seems to know him instantly and show a regard for him," added Zan.

"I have always wished that I had that great gift! It can be cultivated with great sincerity and love for Nature, but some are gifted with it unconsciously!" sighed Miss Miller.

The four girls had listened to Zan's tale with wonderment, and as Miss Miller remembered the breakfast, and said it was waiting, Jane said, "We should have missed this in the Adirondacks."

"I see many beauties we would have missed had we gone far off to the mountains! One of them is the lowly and silent lesson under Elena's feet," said Miss Miller.

All eyes looked down at the floor but saw nothing beside the braided mat. Miss Miller smiled and ran down-stairs without vouchsafing an explanation.

"Miss Miller certainly does puzzle me until she deigns to explain—then it all seems plain as day!" said Hilda.

But further talk was interrupted by a delighted cry from the front porch. The five girls hurried down and joined their teacher on the porch.

"Why—strawberries! How did they get here?" cried some of the girls.

"A note on top of one box said that Mrs. Sherwood sent them over for our breakfast—if we had not finished already!" laughed Miss Miller, looking at her watch.

"It must be almost eight o'clock!" ventured Nita.

"No, it is five to six!" replied Miss Miller.

"Six—why it feels like noon!" said Jane.

"That's because the air is so invigorating," returned Zan. "We always have to get up early in the country, and that gives you such a long, long day to enjoy!"

"I suppose Sherwoods rise at four," Miss Miller said.

"Dear no! Why four o'clock is almost midnight! Why should any one wish to get up at that dreadful hour!" cried Nita, horror-struck at such habits.

"Because country folks retire with the sun and rise with it—that's what all true Indians do, and so will we presently," said Miss Miller, smiling at the various expressions on the faces about her.

"Come now, we'll hull the berries and then enjoy them!" and in a few minutes every one was engaged in crushing the ripe fruit in a deep dish of rich cream—real unadulterated cream!

When the dishes had been washed and placed in the closet Miss Miller advised each one to unpack what baggage had been brought by hand the day before. The clothes worn on the journey down to the farm were to be carefully hung in the closets upstairs and the ordinary gymnasium uniforms worn until their costumes were completed.

"Our next step will be to choose a permanent site for our tents, and try to move the articles we need from the barn to the woods," said Miss Miller.

"Can't we ask Bill Sherwood to do that? It's so warm to-day," cried Nita, peevishly.

"If Bill were not here, who would you have do it?" asked the teacher.

"Hire some one else, I s'pose," muttered Nita.

"I wonder what you would have done if we had gone to the wild mountains for our first experiment, as you wanted us to," asked Zan, curiously.

"Oh, that would have been different. We'd have to do our share there, you know, or go without," replied Nita.

"That is exactly what we intend doing here—work or go without!" said Miss Miller, emphatically.

"But that tramp across the fields and woods to move the bedding and other stuff! Phew, Miss Miller, do you realise what a herculean task that means?" replied Nita, dismayed.

"It gets worse every minute we stand here and worry over it!" laughed Zan.

Without further ado, Zan, followed by Miss Miller and all of the girls excepting Nita, went toward the barns where the boys' tents and outfits were stored. They were soon thrown out of the wide hay-loft window and due inspection given them to test their worth for usage.

"Girls, has either one of you thought of a possible way to carry these outfits over to the Bluff without exerting yourselves too much?" asked Miss Miller, when the girls stood ready to shoulder their burdens.

They looked at each other for an answer. None came. Finally, Jane looked at the teacher and laughingly remarked, "One of your think-right schemes?"

Miss Miller nodded and smiled. "How did you know?"

Jane was dumb, as she had merely thought of teasing Miss Miller and was taken aback at her reply.

"Is it possible that Zan hasn't an inkling of what to do in this case—and she is a country girl?" added Miss Miller.

No one seemed inspired with original thought that morning, so the teacher started for the woods, carrying her burden.

"Wait a minute, Miss Miller!" shouted Hilda. "Give us time to figure this out, and save our backs!"

Every one laughed, still no one could solve the way to move without doing the moving. Again the teacher sighed and said, "When one won't think, one must pay the price!"

This time each girl shouldered as much of the outfit as could be comfortably carried, and followed in the footsteps of the teacher, who was at least twenty feet in advance.

At the Bluff, the heavy luggage was dropped with sighs of relief. Miss Miller left the girls to either think or go back for the rest of the canvas and cots.

"I am going down to Bill's for the stuff that came out by express a few days ago. The cases are down in the Sherwood's barn. Bill offered to open them and help me take the stuff out. While you girls see that the other things are moved over here I will attend to moving up the new things." With this the teacher started down the slope.

"Hey! Miss Miller, won't you tell us the secret in moving without moving?" laughed Zan, catching hold of the teacher's short skirt as she passed.

"I find that a child that depends upon the mother to help it out of difficulties never advances like the one who has to work his own problems. I believe that one reason our city newsboys are so clever is just because they must depend upon their own wits. It puts a sharp edge on wits—using them for oneself."

As soon as the teacher had disappeared about the corner of Sherwood's cottage, Zan suggested a plot to trap her. The other girls laughed merrily and jumped up to follow Zan into the woods.

The boxes and bales at Bill's barn were soon unpacked and Bill stood up wiping his brow with a red bandanna. He took a calculating glance at the steep slope and remarked, "Some haul!"

"Oh, not for a strong plough-horse that has been idle for two days!" replied Miss Miller, innocently.

Bill flushed and his eyes shot fire as he said, "Meanin' jus' what, ma'am?"

"Why, you told me how Nancy ate her head off since the family were not coming down and no extra work could be found for the horse to do. I thought she could drag these things up to the Bluff for us," replied Miss Miller, finding it hard to control a strong inclination to laugh.

The farmer's face underwent a sudden change as he smiled broadly and replied, "Oh, ya'as-sam! Of course! Nancy is a powerful beast!"

The two went to the barn to request Nancy to come forth and take her part in the day's work, when Miss Miller spied a queer steel-barred frame lying on a rubbish heap by the side of the barn-yard fence. It looked like a skeleton of a huge cradle without rockers.

"Bill, what is that strange thing over there?"

"That? Oh, that's a section of an old harvestin' machine we hain't used fur years! They've got better ones nowadays. That one is on'y good t' sell fur junk!" explained Bill.

"Then we can have it now, can't we? Have you a piece of strong rope?"

"Sure! but I don't see what yuh want with this ole cradle," mused Bill.

"You'll see!" said Miss Miller, as she tied one end of the rope securely to the steel cradle and hitched the rope to Nancy's harness. The cradle was dragged across the grass to the pile of articles awaiting transportation. The cradle was soon filled and Nancy started up the slope. At the Bluff the goods were deposited and Bill sent back with Nancy for the rest.

Miss Miller stood sorting out the various things when a loud laugh sounded from the trunks of some nearby trees.

"Ah-ha! We caught you shirking work!" called the girls as they ran out and surrounded the teacher.

"Oh, no you haven't! You merely saw the effect of some common sense thought!" retorted Miss Miller.

"Hum! So that is what you meant when you wanted us to think of an ordinary way to move?" laughed Zan.

Miss Miller nodded while the others stood about with nothing to say.

When Bill came up with the second load he smiled at Zan as he remarked, "Miss Miller is some conniver, eh? But I rickon she ain't strong on th' house-work idees. Ef she was, she'd be a powerful help to my ole lady who gits laid up regerlar ever winter with stiff jints, so thet mos' th' house-work comes on me."

"Bill, maybe I can show you both some things this summer that will not only make living a joy but keep stiff joints out of your experience entirely," replied the teacher.

"Say, ef you kin do that! The doctor tried en failed wid his medicine, an' him's a smart doctor, too!"

Zan laughed appreciatively at the comparison and turned to Miss Miller. "Now, you have to show Bill or lose your reputation as a 'conniver.'"

"There goes Nancy—down the slope toward her feed-bag! If you girls want to take advantage of my patent moving-machine, you'd better run after and catch her!" laughed Miss Miller.

This put an end to health discussions at the time, and the girls raced after the horse before she could get too far away from them. It was a simple matter to haul the outfit from the barn to the Bluff, and Zan plumed herself upon the idea that made them hide behind the trees to watch the teacher and discover her plan to move the baggage to the Bluff.

All assembled about the heap of baggage on the Bluff, Miss Miller suggested that each one select a spot for her tent and start erecting it.

"Why, the Bluff here is the very spot!" said Nita.

"Couldn't be better!" added Elena.

"It has a lovely view, hasn't it?" said Hilda.

"I don't see how it is practical!" objected Miss Miller.

"Why, do you know of a lovelier place?" asked Jane.

"Oh, no. The beauty goes without saying."

Zan pondered the accent on the word "beauty" and the way the teacher spoke of practical. She waited for further developments.

"Well, then, girls, let's shove these bundles off of the Bluff and drive our stakes!" ordered Nita, taking for granted that every one would do as she said.

"If you have no objections, I think I will pitch my tent over by the edge of the forest trees," ventured Miss Miller.

"Of course you can camp where you like, but I don't see why you'd go way back there when this wonderful view can be had as we lay in bed and watch the sun rise!" remonstrated Nita.

"Guess we won't spend much time in bed watching the sun rise, and the view is just as fine out of the tent as in it," replied Miss Miller, as she picked up her canvas and ropes and started for the grassy ground near the trees.

The girls began with mallets and pegs, but the stakes would not go down. The moss was only an inch thick and scarcely any soil lay underneath in which to hold the pegs. Here and there a crevice in the rock would permit a stake to enter a bit and snap it off short. The girls grew hot and angry at the futile work but Miss Miller seemed to be very successful in pitching her tent.

The girls stood and watched for some time, as she drove some stakes in the earth quite easily, then fastened some ropes from one tree to another to give extra security in case of a blow.

A few smaller twigs and saplings had been cleared out of her way, leaving a delightful shady spot where the tent stood. Zan swallowed her pride and went over to look at the completed work.

"The view isn't so very much when you come to think of the fact that we won't be in our tents very much!" ventured Zan.

"I don't expect to use mine except for sleeping, and one can't see the view in the dark," returned the Guide.

"Miss Miller, did you know we'd have hard work trying to drive pegs in the Bluff when you stood there waiting for us to think?" asked Zan, smilingly.

"Yes, dear, and I would have liked to save you the work, but that isn't helping you. Charity never helps, it hinders."

Zan ran back to tell her companions, but found them all in a quarrelling mood because they had been so unsuccessful in accomplishing their own intentions. Nita was saying disagreeable things to the others, and Jane had just told Nita what a little cat she was. Hilda had rolled over in the freshly pulled moss, her face buried in its cooling green. Elena sat pouting on the edge of the Bluff swinging a mallet back and forward, threatening to strike Nita's angry face every time it swung back.

"Girls, we're a lot of idiots! Miss Miller is the only one with sense. Go over and look at that tent, then come back with sugary smiles and drag these tents over next to hers. I have just learned to parse the word beauty as she pronounced it when she said, the beauty of the Bluff went without any contradiction. In parsing, I find that beauty is not always the desirable object! It's well enough in its way, but for driving stakes to hold down canvas tents, give me a good old solid chunk of ground!" said Zan, decidedly.

"Well, anyway, I'm not going to hide myself way back as far as she is. We can find plenty of ground nearer the Bluff and not feel cooped up by the trees," ventured Nita, as the other girls followed Zan's example and carried their paraphernalia over to the trees.

Thus it happened that Nita's tent stood first from the Bluff, a few feet to the side of the trees. Hilda and Elena chose a site a few feet back from Nita's and near enough to a tree to utilise its trunk for the ropes. The third smaller tent was quite close to Miss Miller's but not as far back as hers.

"The stakes do not go down as deep as I think they should, girls, but you can change them this afternoon if you decide to move back where my tent is. As they stand now, a strong wind may tear them down."

"Oh, they'll hold all right! What's the next thing to do?" said Jane, who was tired of bothering with tents.

Miss Miller looked at her watch. "It's only ten o'clock and you girls have been up since five. Maybe you'd like to walk to the house for a piece-meal?"

"Would we? Well, I just guess there'll be no dissenting voice on that proposition!" laughed Hilda.

"I must confess, my appetite says it must be nearly supper time," added Jane.

Without further ado, the Clan started for the house to pacify a gnawing that interfered with work or play. On the steps of the front porch, a veritable feast was soon enjoyed. Although it consisted of bread and jam sandwiches, with water as a stimulant, never did the five girls taste anything so delicious. When all the delectable bread and crumbs disappeared, sighs came from five hearts.

"Dear, why is it that good things never last half long enough!" wondered Zan, aloud.

While the others laughed, Miss Miller arose from the floor where she had been sitting, and walked out to the grass at the side of the house.

"What do you see, Miss Miller?" called Elena.

"I thought we might have a little visit in the garden. We will like some edibles at camp to-night, and the garden is so near, we may as well see what we can find."

The girls eagerly assented to the plan and were soon on the path leading to the garden, pails and baskets swinging as they went. They were passing a patch of early potatoes when the Guide called their attention to the humble vegetable.

"Doesn't any one here eat potatoes?"

"Of course we do, but we can get them on our way back," replied Hilda.

"How many of you know whether a potato is a root, fruit, or stem?" asked Miss Miller, as she stood near a healthy plant.

"Wh-y, it's a fruit, isn't it?" replied Jane.

"No, it's a root," added Zan.

"'Tis neither," said Miss Miller. "A potato is a swollen stem that sends up shoots above ground to bear leaves. I will show you," and the teacher dug up a small potato.

"As the potato grows these small eyes form deeper folds. It looks for all the world like an eye with a heavy lid over it. If we want to use this potato the next year for planting, it is left in the cellar until time to cut. In early spring these eyes send out tubers, and every tuber will make a new vine when planted. Sometimes one large potato will make several good vines.

"The old potato furnishes starch for the new growth to feed upon and before the young potatoes form under ground the old one is dried up by the use of its starch. The green leaves send down nourishment in turn for the young potatoes at the end of the stem, until they have attained their growth in the Fall.

"Potatoes used to be grown from seed that formed in the small pod left when the blossoms fell off. But growing potatoes from tubers of old ones was so much quicker, and saved so much labour, that a crisis has been reached in the present day. The potatoes are now unable to produce seed! No seed is to be had for general use. Last year an offer of several hundred dollars was made for a thimble-full of potato seed, and do you know, girls, that not a farmer in the United States could procure enough potato seed to win that prize offer!"

"Why, my goodness! What will we do?" said Zan.

"We'll have to retrace our steps and find a way to accomplish progress without so important a loss. No one has ever given a thought what to do in case of a potato famine, for the homely vegetable has always been so abundant. But its very value is depreciating slowly, for very few potatoes will keep long, and almost all potatoes have great black spots in the centre, while many of them have 'dry rot.' This is due to the manner in which they are grown to-day. Each crop depletes the nourishing qualities of the new one, and finally they will no longer flourish."

"Add to this the pest of potato bugs and it looks as if potatoes were doomed, doesn't it?" added Zan.

"Bugs? Why, Zan, do potatoes have bugs?" cried the girls.

"The vines do! Potato bugs look a great deal like a lady-bug only I think they are prettier," replied Zan.

"But they are not as harmless as the lady-bug," added Miss Miller. "A potato bug will soon destroy a vine if it is left to feed unmolested."

"What can one do to them?" asked Jane, curiously.

"Dad pays the boys and me a cent a dozen to carry a small tin can under each vine and, with a stick, push them off of the potato vine into the can with some kerosene in it," said Zan.

"Ugh! How can you! I think that is horrid!" exclaimed Elena, her artistic soul in arms against such a method.

"This summer Bill will have to spray hellebore on the vines, or use Paris Green to kill the bugs, for I don't want to spend time that way any more," said Zan, laughing at Elena's expression.

Miss Miller smiled, too, as they continued through the garden and came to the grape arbour. She gave them a short talk on the habits and qualities of various grapes and how to distinguish the grape-vine-leaf of the different varieties.

"Miss Miller, I spy a few cherries left for us by the robins. I will climb the tree and pick them while you tell the girls about the fruit," offered Zan, taking her basket and soon, up among the branches, throwing down cherries for the Band.

"If we had been a few weeks sooner we should have seen the blossoms fall off and leave small cups where they have been. This cup dries up and finally bursts. Inside it, the tiny green cherry has been forming. This now grows and with the aid of sun and rain, becomes this size, but it is still green; when it is full-grown it turns a pale yellow, then pink, and lastly a crimson like this one. At that time, the fruit is ripe for picking, or the robins will get them before you know it! Robins are very fond of ripe cherries."

Zan had gathered all within reach and slid down the tree with her basket. "Hardly worth the bother—there are so few," said she, shaking them in the bottom of the basket.

"But they are fine and sweet!" remarked Jane, smacking her lips over one.

"Oh, look quick! See the rabbit over there in that green patch!" cried Elena, eagerly.

"Yes, it's one of the bunnies I told you of. He knows where the carrot and cabbage patches are. He's digging for a carrot now. Let's go over very softly and watch him," said Zan.

But the rabbit was too timid to remain at dinner with a number of noisy girls watching nearby, and he soon disappeared.

Hilda pulled out the young carrot the bunny had partly dug out and asked Miss Miller about it.

"The carrot is a root vegetable that is at first a tiny thin string that grows down into the dark earth. As the leaves grow the root grows too, and in the fall when the leaves dry and die, the root remains until it is dug out for use. If it is not used it remains in the ground until spring when it sends up new leaves and flowers. The blossoms make seeds and these in turn fall and grow new carrots, then the old one, its purpose fulfilled, dies."

"Poor old carrot! It works away down in the darkness all its life, and furnishes flowers for new carrots, and then dies, without ever having enjoyed the world," sighed Zan.

"But it did its work well, and that is all we are expected to do here," said Miss Miller.

"Well, I think I'd like a bit more beauty in my life than the carrot gets, or I'd rebel," laughed Elena.

As the Band walked through the garden, first noting one vegetable, then another, they arrived at some fruit trees. "There's a prune, girls," said Miss Miller, pointing to a plum that hung in the sunshine from a slender tree-branch.

"A prune! Why, it's a plum!" laughed Nita.

"A plum that will be a fine prune some day!"

"Are prunes made from plums?" asked Elena, dubiously.

"Yes, but not all plums will make good prunes. A special kind is raised for that purpose. In California, where most of our best prunes come from, great orchards of plum trees grow and bear fruit. When the plums are ripe they are gathered and packed in boxes to be shipped to every part of the globe."

Zan spied some raspberry bushes after that and ran over to see if any were ripe enough to pluck. She gathered enough for supper, and turning back to join the other girls, found Miss Miller pointing out the difference between red and black raspberries. The girls listened eagerly to the interesting information that showed them how the blossoms fell to make way for the green seed. The seeds later, swollen to the size of a ripe berry, being green, gradually changed to a pale yellow; the sun and dew still reaching it turned it to a pink, and at last to the rich crimson with the down on the face. If it should happen to remain on the stem, it would finally dry up and scatter its tiny seeds to sink into the ground and start another vine growing the following spring.

The Band gathered enough lettuce and fruit for supper, and vegetables for dinner the following day, before Miss Miller started toward the house.

After leaving the garden, the teacher explained that she thought they ought to hold a meeting that afternoon at the Bluff. Being only five in number, they could not have a charter granted by Headquarters until the customary number were members—ten or more.

"We will try and win our rights by doing the required tests as quickly as possible, then, when we can take the Fire Brownie's tests without mistakes, we can call for a second Band to unite under our Tribal banner. The two can grow side by side until the number—ten—belong to each Band. After we have two Bands and at least ten members all told, we will be ready to be initiated as a Tribe by the Council at Headquarters."