“There used to be lots of ’em, and—er—other animals of the forest about our tent in other years,” went on Phil, “until we found that leaving scraps of food brought them. After that we buried all our refuse and they didn’t come.”
“Girls, we’ll dig a deep hole the first thing in the morning!” declared the Guardian.
“We’ll do it for you,” offered Blake. “Can we do anything more?”
“No, thank you,” murmured Natalie. “It was good of you to come.”
“Why wouldn’t we; with all that yelling?” asked Jack.
“We thought the ghost of the old mill was carrying you off,” explained Blake.
“Ugh! Don’t speak of it—we’ll never get another wink of sleep,” declared Mabel.
The boys departed, laughing and joking, and the girls tried to compose themselves to slumber, but it was not easy. However even a little rest in that glorious balsam-laden air was enough, and they awoke in the morning much refreshed.
Water had been brought from the spring the night before, and after simple toilets, simple perforce, they arranged for breakfast. The boys had brought them eggs from their supply, pending arrangements the girls would make with a near-by farmer, and with crisp bacon and coffee there was a meal that even a jaded epicure might have partaken of with delight.
All about was a freshness; the trees with their green leaves, the sparkling lake within a stone’s throw of their dining canopy and the birds flitting about overhead.