"Well, we'll decide that later—I see Zan wants us to continue," said Miss Miller, as their guide crossed the stream by means of great flat stones.
"The boys and I made this stone crossing—and maybe we didn't have lame backs for a week after we carried these boulders!" said Zan, reminiscently.
For a full hour more, the city girls climbed steep hillsides or stumbled down wild ravines, stubbing toes on hidden rocks and catching unprotected hair in swinging branches, until all began to feel the fatigue of unused muscles and the effect of hard shoes on mother earth. When Miss Miller suggested supper, every one turned face homeward without a regret.
"We will have our ready-made supper that I brought with me in a box, and Zan can find the milk that Bill Sherwood left in the ice-chest," said Miss Miller, as they entered the cool living-room again.
"And I'll go down cellar and fetch some preserves—mother said we could use all we wanted," added Zan.
"O-oh! goody! just think of it—home-made preserves!" said Nita.
"We'll set the table, Zan, if you show us where to find the dishes, and show us the ice-chest. Nita can go down to help you with the preserves, if you like," said Miss Miller, unpacking a large pasteboard box filled with sandwiches, cake and fruit.
Before supper was quite ready the twilight had fallen, making it necessary to have a light.
"My gracious! I never gave a thought as to light! I am so accustomed to pushing the button and having light, that I quite forgot we had no electricity out here," laughed Miss Miller.
"Oh, pshaw! I forgot, too! I just hate to clean lamps and fill them with kerosene—your hands smell so dreadfully forever afterward!" grumbled Zan.