“Is this where you camped, Verny?” eagerly asked Julie.
“No, but this is where we danced and shouted and played like any wild mountain habitants,” laughed Mrs. Vernon, the joys of that girlhood summer lighting her eyes. “And here is where you girls can play scout games and dances, or sit to dream of home and far-away friends.”
“The scout games we’ll enjoy here, but dreams of home—never! We’ll have to go back there soon enough,” declared Joan, causing the others to laugh merrily.
“Well, come on, girls. Our campsite lies just there beyond that cluster of giant pines that rear their heads high above the surrounding forest trees,” said Mrs. Vernon, leading the way across the plateau.
The sound of falling water became plainer as they went, and soon, between the trunks of the trees skirting the plateau, the girls spied a beautiful waterfall. It tumbled from one great boulder to another, until it splashed into a basin worn deep in the farthest end of the plateau; thence it sought the easiest way to reach the valley, making many sparkling pools and musical waterfalls in its descent.
“How perfectly lovely!” breathed Betty, standing with clasped hands and a gaze that was riveted on the falls.
“You had plenty of water for cooking and bathing, didn’t you?” said practical Julie.
“Yes, and that was one reason we chose this spot for our camp. You see this high rocky wall made a fine wind-shield from the north, and where could one find a more convenient gymnasium than that flat? The pines and waterfall over here provided shelter and supply. So we built our hut against the wall under those trees.”
“Hut? You never told us you built a hut,” exclaimed Joan.
“No, because I have no idea of finding it here. I suppose the logs have rotted away years ago,” returned Mrs. Vernon.