She stepped back, and instantly each girl placed her right hand over her heart and all together repeated slowly,
“‘This Law of the Fire
I will strive to follow
With all the strength
And endurance of my body,
The power of my will,
The keenness of my mind,
The warmth of my heart,
And the sincerity of my spirit.’”
The fire had died down to glowing coals. At a sign from the Chief Guardian two of the Fire Makers extinguished the embers, pouring water over them till not a spark remained. The lanterns were relighted, the procession formed again, and the girls marched back, singing as they went.
“O dear, I can’t bear to think that we shall not have another Council Fire like this for months—even if we come here next summer,” Mary Hastings said when they were back in camp.
“And wasn’t this the very dearest one!” cried Bessie Carroll. “With Myra’s honours and Elizabeth’s, and Olga’s headband—wasn’t she surprised, though!”
“First time I ever saw Olga Priest dumfounded,” laughed Louise. “But, say, girls—that Poor Thing is a duck after all—she is really.”
Bessie’s plump hand covered Louise’s lips. “Hush, hush!” she cried in a tone of real distress, for she loved Elizabeth. “That name is burnt up.”
“So it is—beg everybody’s pardon,” yawned Louise. “But Elizabeth couldn’t hear way over there with Olga and Miss Laura. I say, girls,” she added with her usual giggle, “I feel as if I’d been wound up to concert pitch and I’ve got to let down somehow. Get out your fiddle, Rose, and play us a jig. I’ve got to get some of this seriousness out of my system before I go to bed.”
Rose ran for her violin, and two minutes later the girls were dancing gaily in the moonlight.
“I wish they hadn’t,” Laura whispered to Anne. “I wanted to keep the impression of that lovely soft chanting for the last.”