Picking up the jar, she looked once more into the clear cold water. Then she said,
“Come, little star. Come with me to the wigwam of brave, strong Fir Tree. Together we will make it the happiest wigwam in the encampment. You shall still help me to be my best, for I shall still have a star.”
Reprinted from the Camp Fire Girls’ Magazine by permission. Revised by permission of the author.
THE TWO SEARCHERS
Peter was tired of doing the same thing over and over and he wanted a change. Ever since he could remember he had fished and sold the fish he had caught. He had made nets and mended them. First he had done it for his father, and now he owned the boats and nets and fishing implements. But he stood on that bright summer day close by the beautiful Lake of Gennesaret in Galilee, wishing over and over that he could do something that was more worth while.
There was a reason why Peter was more discouraged than ever on this morning. He had fished all through the night before in the hope of getting a good catch so that he might skip a day’s work and go to hear the great teacher about whom men were talking and whom Andrew, his brother, had seen. But though he had worked hard, not a fish had he caught. So now he was mending the holes in the net with a very discontented look on his face. What was the use of it all, anyway? He twisted the rope this way and that, showing by the pulls that he made that his mind was full of trouble.