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 pass 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 fish!” 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 passed, 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 grass.

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

When the chores 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?’

“‘Hoh, it ran away from me when I cut open the sheep.’

“Then the boy ran to his sister and demanded that she tell him just what happened on the mountain-side.

“She told the boy what her husband had done with the entrails and how the dog ran up the mountain-side yelping.

“‘I wish I had not loaned my dog! I did not want to, but you coaxed me to it. This shows what folks do with borrowed property that they have not worked to make perfect. They use the good of it and throw away what is left. Now I demand that your husband show me the way the dog went,’ cried the boy, in great distress.

“The sister told her husband he must show the boy the place where the dog ran away from him. Once on the mountain-side, the boy saw the red tracks made by his dog and these he followed until he came to a large lake.

“Now the forest dog was really the Wolf Chief’s Son and because the boy had painted the dog’s face and feet with red paint a wolf has red on its feet and around its snout to this day.

“Standing at the lake-side, the boy wondered how he could cross it to reach a town he saw on the opposite side of the water. As he wished he might get across, a curl of smoke rose from the ground at his feet.

“He jumped back in time to see the square of earth where he had been standing open outward like a door on hinges. Then a woman’s voice quavered forth: ‘Come in, come in, my son.’

“The boy entered and saw an old woman sitting by the roots of a forest tree, crooning over a pot of broth she was stirring.

“‘I am your grandmother, boy, and I will help you. What do you here all alone?’

“Then the boy told about his little dog and how he would like to find it again.

“‘His people live on the other side of the lake. He is the Wolf Chief’s Son, grandchild—he is not a common dog,’ said the woman.

“‘How can I get over there?’ asked the boy.

“‘I have a little canoe—you may use that. Here it is,’ replied the grandame as she picked up a shrivelled leaf and handed it to the astonished boy.

“‘How can I sit in this—it will not carry me?’ said he.

“‘When you reach the lake-side just shake it open and it will swell large in the water. Step in, stretch yourself out in the bottom of the canoe and wish yourself across. Do not paddle it. When you are on the other shore wish the canoe back to me and it will come.’

“The boy did as directed and reached the opposite side of the lake, but instead of wishing the canoe back again he wished it a leaf and this he placed in his pocket for future use.

“At the Wolf Chief’s village he found some boys playing tug-of-war with the ends of the rainbow. He stood watching for a moment but he came for his little dog so he inquired the way to the Wolf Chief’s wigwam. It was at the end of the village. Here he found the people sitting about an evening fire and the little dog was playing in front of Wolf Chief.

“The boy watched and called joyfully to the dog, but the Wolf Chief growled forth: ‘A human is near us. Clear a way before him.’

“At that the little dog ran up and sniffed the stranger. He knew him at once and caught his garments between his teeth and dragged the visitor over to his father, Wolf Chief. Here he barked out the story of the boy’s kindness to him when he was down in the valley.

“Then the Wolf Chief welcomed the boy, saying: ‘I sent my son to help you hunt when I heard how you were helping the people to keep from starving. Because you were grateful to your dog I will show you more kindness. My boy shall not go back with you, but this is what I will give you: This fish-hawk’s quill to hunt with. Whenever you meet a bear or sheep, hold the quill straight out and it will fly from your hand to lodge in the animal’s heart. Then remove the quill and clean it well to keep for another trial.’

“The boy took the quill and thanked the Chief.

“Then the Wolf Chief added: ‘I will also give you a great treasure as I see you are a grateful lad.’

“He removed a blanket from a tripod and handed it to the boy. ‘Use this for sickness or death. If a friend is ill cover him with this blanket and he will immediately recover again.’

“Again the boy thanked the Chief earnestly.

“Then the Wolf Chief placed something in the boy’s mouth, saying: ‘Swallow this as you have a long journey before reaching your home again. This will keep you from being hungry or weary.’

“Then the little dog and the boy wept over each other, for they had been fond companions, and the boy started homeward, being very careful of the quill and medicine blanket.

“As the boy came down the mountain-side near the village he met a bear that stood in the trail and growled at him. He held the quill straight at the beast and it flew right into the bear’s heart. Then the boy took the quill and cleaned it well. Next he cut some bearsteaks for immediate use and covered over the remainder.

“The boy reached his village from which he thought he had been absent only two days and nights, but he found he had been gone two years—so swiftly had the time passed while he had been at the Wolf Chief’s village by the lake-side.

“As he entered the village he found it had been totally destroyed and everyone was dead. He felt dreadfully sad at this discovery but he remembered the medicine blanket, and this he placed over every member of his family and they immediately came to life. Then he placed it over everyone in the village and brought them all back to life—even the brother-in-law who had been so ungrateful.

“When all were alive once more they needed food so the boy ran to the mountain and found a great flock of wild sheep. With the quill he soon killed them and ordered the people to carry them home.

“The villagers were so astonished when they saw him kill wild beasts with a quill that they agreed to have him hunt for the entire village and promised to pay him with skins and weapons for the meat.

“When the villagers were nourished they told the boy that while he was absent every tribe of people were killed by the famine and the plagues. The boy then decided to visit the nations and revive the people by means of the medicine blanket. This he did, but he only brought the good and beautiful back to life, leaving the cruel and vicious, and deformed ones, dead. And this he did for every creature on the earth. The bad and worthless were killed off with the quill but the good and faithful creatures were kept alive with the blanket. Thus it happened that the earth became a beautiful spot to live in, for all men were as brothers, and all creatures walked in the trails of man without fear or desire to kill. And to this day, the boy feeds his people and everyone is happy and at peace.”

As the Guide finished her story the Woodcrafters cried “How! How!” but Fiji said: “I wish we had that blanket and quill at this present time!”

“No such luck! It is war, war, war to the bitter end, I guess,” added Fred.

“And starvation or famine and plagues for the world!” sighed Zan.

“I’m not so sure but that the Hunter with the Medicine Blanket of Life is again on earth to revive all the good and true people to everlasting joy and peace,” ventured the Guide, quietly.

“Why, just think, if Fred or Fiji were two years older they would have to go to France and be killed,” cried Zan, fervently. “Some day in the future maybe, Miss Miller, but no one can say there is joy or peace with all this misery brought about by war.”

“No, my dear, not in the future—right now! I firmly believe that the world will awaken to realise this wonderful state of existence shortly. And if we believe any part of the Scriptures we must believe the prophecies of many writers of that Book. There is no room for doubt that this is the time that is spoken of as ‘The Day of the Lord.’ But let us consider other things now, even though Sunday is a good day to discuss the heavenly conditions that will prevail the moment the ‘dragon’ is over-powered. You see, I become so tremendously interested in this warfare of Michael and Gabriel, the Two Angels that war against the Dragon and the Beast, that I dare not pursue the subject further. You would oust me from the Tribe if I talked of nothing but the New Jerusalem. You are here to talk of Woodcraft instead,” said Miss Miller, springing up and looking brightly around for a new form of entertainment.

“I wonder how many of you ever gave a thought to the Woodcraft work secrets contained in the sea?” said Miss Miller, gazing down from the plateau to the stretch of glistening beach where the tide was nearing its highest mark.

“In the sea?” laughed Eleanor sceptically, as the others joined the Guide and looked where she did.

“Yes, and wonderful secrets it holds for us, too. Come, and I will show you a few.”

Miss Miller picked up a glass fruit jar which had held some preserves from home, and advising the others to find receptacles for the collection she would show them, started down the sand-bank.

“First, I would suggest that each girl find five or ten smooth round sea pebbles as near a size as possible. These we will ask the boys to carry in their pockets for us. I will show you what wonderful jack-stones they make. In fact, the game originally was played with smooth stones. It was only in later years that the iron imitations were manufactured and placed upon the market.

“Then let me tell you, that a collection of large oval light-coloured stones make the prettiest sort of a marker to line off a flower-bed or pathway. If they are well set in sand they will not roll or become muddy from the rain that falls upon the soil of the garden. The sand holds them in place and keeps them clean.

“Another suggestion for Hand-craft for a Woodcrafter, is this: find a large flat oval stone washed smooth by the sea and upon one side you can paint a marine picture or, if you cannot paint, a conventional design can be used to decorate it. This makes a lovely paper-weight for a friend, or for your own desk.

“For Edith and her little brother, we can hunt for pebbles that resemble fruits and vegetables. Then the Little Brownies can play store to their heart’s content.”

“That will be fine, Miss Miller, and I’ll help the girls find what I need for a store,” declared Edith, accepting the suggestion for the deed.

“Let’s hurry then, as Edith will want us to collect every pebble on the beach—I know her aspirations when a new game is mentioned,” laughed Elizabeth.

“She isn’t ‘the only pebble on the beach’ for that weakness,” commented Fred, looking at his elder sister.

“Chump Mark for Fred—he used slang!” cried Elizabeth.

But Zan was busy watching the Guide fill her glass jar with certain pebbles, and the hint to bestow a Chump Mark was passed by.

The jar filled, Miss Miller filled the remaining crevices with salt water, then screwed the lid on the jar.

“Now, look at this—isn’t it pretty? Do you think a bottle of these beautifully coloured and veined sea pebbles will elicit an interest if sent to a sick friend or a bed-ridden child in a Home?” asked the Guide, holding the jar at arm’s length that all could see the varied hued pebbles which were enhanced by the salt water.

“Aren’t they just lovely! But where under the sun did you ever hear of these things, Miss Miller?” cried Jane.

“I wish we had baskets to hold a bushel of these pebbles and we could fill lots of wide-mouthed bottles from Dad’s office to present to his little patients at the Children’s Hospital,” said Zan.

“We might fill the empty boxes we were going to burn up when we cleaned up camp,” suggested Hilda.

“Boys, you run up to the camp and bring us the boxes while we collect the prettiest stones we can find,” said Zan, leading the way along the beach.

The boys did as ordered and, the tide running out fast by this time, the girls soon found marvelously figured and coloured pebbles left on the sand.

“Now that we are at this collecting work I may as well add the secrets of the shells. If you place various shapes and kinds of shells with the pebbles the bottle will look even prettier than if filled with stones alone,” suggested Miss Miller.

“Elena, do you see these deep white scallop shells? They make splendid paint-cups for water-colours. I always use them in preference to china dishes,” said the Guide, turning to the artist.

“Girls, let us gather as many as you think we will need this winter for our art-work!” exclaimed Zan, and thereupon, the girls busied themselves with the new diversion.

“Here we are, Miss Miller, what shall we do with the boxes we were sent for?” called Fiji, sliding down the steep incline of the sand-dune.

“Oh—let the boys find the pebbles and fill the boxes for us while we collect the shells,” cried Jane, looking at the Guide for approval.

“Do you boys wish to do that?” asked she.

“Cert. Anything you say. We haven’t a thing to do until church is over, you know,” laughed Jack.

“Meaning this Sunday enjoyment? Well, it is a heap more fun than I would have believed possible,” declared Zan.

“As long as the boys are doing that work I can show you girls some other secrets,” said Miss Miller, looking for deep large-sized clam shells cleansed as only the sea can wash a shell.

“This kind of shell make the nicest kind of ramekins for baked fish, or tarts, and other small side-dishes. They also can be used for bone-dishes or small side-plates when camping.

“Now see these yellow opalescent shells? Well, they make pretty salt and pepper dishes. Even for a city table, they are unique and artistic. I have often grouped three in some glue on a round wooden disk and decorated the wood with pyrography and then used the small sea-snail shells to glue under the three centre pieces. It looked too pretty for anything when completed and ready to send to a friend for a gift.

“I also have made pin-cushions of two fitted scallop shells. The hollow is filled with saw-dust, and a strip of satin or velvet covering the slight aperture made by the opened shells is glued inside the shells. A ribbon sewed to the hinge of the shell is used to hang the cushion on the side of the dressing-table mirror.”

“Oh dear me, Miss Miller, wait a minute till we get time to take it all in,” laughed Elena, eager to note everything the Guide said.

“Girls, let’s collect the shells necessary for the things Miss Miller explains about, and then we can have her teach us how to make the things some day at the Gym,” suggested Zan.

“That’s a good idea. Now, Miss Miller, what else do you know about shell secrets?” added Jane.

“I have made beautiful portiÈres of these golden paper shells. Most of them have a small hole in the end—see there? And some haven’t the tiny perforation—these I burn in with a red-hot hatpin so that each shell may be threaded on a strong length of Japanese cord. This cord is finer and stronger than any made in this country, and is used for bead-curtains and reed portiÈres.

“After threading a shell you must tie the cord once in and out the hole to keep the shell from slipping down and crowding the others that are threaded on the same cord.

“I have also trimmed decorative scarfs with this kind of shell fringe, but fancy scarfs are not in vogue now as much as they used to be.

“These two ideas will give you many other ideas where the shells can be used. I should think Elena could suggest some new ways.”

“Oh, oh, OH! Listen to me!” shouted Nita, jumping up and down frantically, as she waved both arms about in her excitement.

“Goodness sakes! I thought Nita stepped on a sea-serpent!” laughed the Guide, turning to hear the great news.

“Won’t it be perfectly grand to have a costume covered with these sea-shells, and fringes of them hanging down from the skirt and sleeves, so they will rattle when I dance? I will invent a sea-dance to go with the costume. What about it, eh?” cried Nita.

“Great! If we only had another day to stop here and collect the shells,” returned Jane.

“Miss Miller, I bet anything, Nita could win an honour from Headquarters for an ideal dance and costume like that!” said Zan.

“Girls, you go on and get whatever you want for shell-work and just leave that dress to me. I’ll dig and pick all day till it’s time to start for home, but I’ll have that shell dress or die!” promised Nita, eagerly.

“We may as well help Nita with her work as we can use any left-over shells for our fancy work. I was only going to add, that work-boxes hinged with a strip of glued muslin on one edge of the lid and decorated with sea-shells glued on the outside, are very pretty gifts for friends.

“I have also made lovely picture frames, and mirror frames of wood covered with different kinds of shells. In fact, there are endless ways of using these pretty little trifles cast up for us by the bountiful sea.”

“While you talk, Miss Miller, we will collect, as the surf is leaving more and more shells on the sand as the tide recedes,” said Hilda, eagerly picking up everything she saw.

“O-oh! but it makes your back ache terribly! Mine is simply broken in two and I can’t stoop another time!” declared Eleanor.

“Oh be a sport, Ella! Don’t spoil everything by your whimperings,” said Zan, expressing disgust in her voice.

“I just guess if you were as delicate as I am your bones would ache, too!” retorted Eleanor.

“Thank goodness I’m no hypochondriac!” snapped Zan.

Eleanor was not sure what that word meant, so she hesitated to publish her ignorance. She was quite sure, however, that it was Latin for some illness known only to a doctor or his immediate family. The fact that she could not reply made her more peevish, and she turned without another word and walked back to camp.

“Well I never! If she isn’t the poorest kind of a Woodcrafter a Tribe ever had the bad luck to have hang on to its wings!” exclaimed Zan, watching the girl saunter away from her companions.

The other girls tittered but the Guide said: “Oh she’s coming on fine, I think!”

“Miss Miller!” gasped several voices.

“You don’t believe me, do you? Wait and see!” rejoined the Guide.

“Well, you always did have a gift for seeing ‘swans where others only saw geese,’” said Zan, whimsically.

The boys now were heard shouting and the girls turned to see them making signs. They said they were going to the camp and start dinner. The Guide signalled that it would be all right as far as she was concerned, so the girls kept on gathering shells until the call came for dinner.

Before they reached the camp, however, they saw the boys standing on the end of the promontory gazing through the glasses out at the Sound. When they were near enough, they heard Fiji shout through a megaphone made with his hands:

“Hurry up! Comp’ny!”

“Land’s sake, who can it be?” cried Zan.

Before they reached the cliff they could plainly see the white sails of a boat that was heading straight for the site.

“If that isn’t Dad I’ll eat these shells!” cried Elizabeth.

“Spare enough for that costume of Nita’s,” laughed Jane.

“She won’t have to crack any teeth on that wager ’cause it is Mr. Remington,” now said Zan, as the sail-boat tacked ever nearer to the crude pier off the point of land.

To witness the reception accorded the visitor one would think Mr. Remington was the long lost Robinson Crusoe. But the moment dinner was over the boys began to tease for a sail in the boat.

“We girls want to go, too,” declared Elizabeth.

“The only way I can pay the debt of hospitality is to take you in installments. ‘Ladies and children’ first,” laughed Mr. Remington.

“All right, give the girls a little sail and then take us boys for a trip to catch fish for supper. We ought to get a fine mess with a boat like this,” suggested Fiji.

“That’s only your excuse for a far longer sail than we can have,” pouted Jane.

“Now it isn’t at all, Jenny! But there isn’t a crumb of anything but dessert for supper, you know,” said Jack, very ingratiatingly.

“Miss Miller, I can testify to there being an abundance for another meal to-day, as I left a hamper of good things to eat at the temporary refrigerator you built near the camp-kitchen,” laughed Mr. Remington, motioning for the first installment of girls to get in the boat.

The entire afternoon was given to sailing and watching the others sail, as turn and turn about was taken. Then supper-time came, and before this was over the automobiles sounded their horns as they came through the woodland road to take the campers back to the city.

“Do you know, it seems as if we have been at camp for a month—so much has been crowded into these two days,” declared Zan.

“Same here,” agreed the other Woodcrafters.