She jumped up and peeped from the flap of the tent. At a good camp-fire she saw the funniest baker she ever thought possible to utilise. But no one was about, so she crept out in her pajamas and grass slippers to investigate.
On a smooth stick safely driven into the ground near enough to the camp-fire to warrant a steady heat reaching it, was twisted a long flat strip of dough. It began to wind about the stick from the bottom and ended near the top. As it baked and browned on the side nearest the fire, a delightful aroma came from it and permeated the air.
“Well, I never! If this isn’t the most ingenious device!” murmured Zan, chuckling to herself.
“Watching my bread-twist, Zan?” called a voice, and Zan looked over to see the Guide coming from the Falls where she had had a cold bath.
“Yes, but I was wondering how to give the offside a chance to brown?” replied Zan.
“I’ll show you—simple as anything.” And Miss Miller merely took hold of the top-end of the stick and gave it a sharp turn. Naturally the bread turned with it, and the side that was brown was now facing away from the fire while the other side was turned toward it to bake and brown.
Zan laughed and nodded her head approvingly, then glanced at the other breakfast food cooking. Cereal was boiling in a pot hanging over the fire where the bread was baking, and apples were stewing in a saucepan.
“Did we bring apples yesterday?” asked she.
“No, but I found a little old tree down the trail and most of these were picked up from the ground. Don’t they smell good?”
“Um-m! Should say they did. But tell me, Miss Miller—did you stay up all night to work like this?”