But they had not far to search, for Zan had heard falling water, part way down the steep Palisades, falling from a great height on a rocky peak to a glen beneath. The stream that fed the falls had worn a narrow but deep gully on top of the cliffs, and Miss Miller was the one to discover it as she sought for a good camp-site. A rustic bridge spanned the ravine and a path led a circuitous way down to the ledge where the Falls formed a foamy pool before running over its rocky basin to tumble recklessly on down to join the river.
Miss Miller wished to assure herself that it would be a safe spot for so many girls to camp, so she followed the path to the ledge and there saw a rustic sign nailed to a tree, “Alpine Falls—no camping allowed on this ledge.”
She climbed back again and called to the Tribe to join her. They were delighted with the place, and when Miss Miller told them of the sign they agreed to camp at the clearing on the point and use the Falls for cooking and wash water.
“I hope to goodness no one here is a sleep-walker,” laughed Zan, waving a hand in the direction of the precipice.
“No one here guilty of that habit!” replied Miss Miller.
So camp was pitched and preparations for supper well under way before Jane said: “We forgot to think of a swim.”
“Too late! Besides, we’ll have to crawl down this wall and see if there is any sort of a place where we can get in,” answered Zan.
That evening they enjoyed riddles, charades, and Nita danced a wild flower dance she had invented. Miss Miller told them of some of her interesting experiences while travelling in Egypt and the Old World, and then to bed.
Early in the morning, Zan turned over in her tiny cot and yawned. Awake in an instant, she sat up and sniffed.
“Who’s baking breakfast gems? They smell fine!”