“I forget the rest, something about the horns of Elfland and the purple glens replying,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful, Polly?”
“Isn’t it Beautiful, Polly?”
Ted and Sue were busily unpacking bedding and tents, and refused to notice the sunset until the practical things were attended to. Peggie and her father looked after the horses. There was not much to do. Saddles and bridles slipped off, they were led down to drink, then hobbled, and left to munch the sweet, rich grass. The team horses had an extra feed of oats besides. By the time the girls had watched the sun tinge the last rim of the mountains with gold, smoke was curling up from the camp stove, and there was fresh water on to boil. It was a study in camp economy to watch Mrs. Murray make everything comfortable.
“Well, you see, child,” she said, when Isabel spoke of the ease with which it was all done, “we’ve camped out every summer since the children were old enough to enjoy it, and it’s second nature now. Don’t you want to cut the ham?”
“I want to do anything to help,” Isabel said, heartily, so when the others came down they found Lady Vanitas with a big apron tied around her armpits, slicing ham deftly for the crowd.
There were two tents, and in front of each was a wide projecting canvas roof besides, so that it seemed almost like an extra room. Mr. Murray said he would take a blanket, and sleep in the sheep wagon, as he would be more likely to hear the horses if they got into trouble. Mrs. Murray took the younger ones under her wing, Peggie, Sue and Ted; and Jean shared the other tent with Polly, Ruth and Isabel. There were no cots, but each one had a fine bed of fresh cut spruce boughs and blankets thrown over them.
After supper, some helped clean up the remains, and the rest gathered firewood with Mr. Murray for a good blaze to keep off any inquisitive wanderers of the night. When it finally started up, on the shore of the lake, it was a brilliant spectacle. The flames sent out great flickering banners that were reflected in the dark waters, the sparks flew up and crackled, and the spruce sent out a rich, pungent fragrance.
“I never saw any one swing an axe as fast as Mr. Murray,” said Ted, admiringly. “It just seems to throw itself at the tree, and every time it lands in the same place.”
“They say up home he’s the best wood-cutter around,” Peggie replied, proudly. Dearly did she love her tall, strong-limbed father. “We’d better get a good pile for the night, to keep the fire going.”