Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer

by Rena I. Halsey

The hikers now seated themselves around the fires—for there were three—and then something happened that held Nathalie with reverent awe for she saw Mrs. Morrow’s face sober with a sweet seriousness, as she gave the signal for silence. Every head was quickly lowered in response to this signal, and then a timid voice—it belonged to the Flower—broke the reverent stillness by softly chanting a blessing to the Giver of all good.

Each girl had brought her own tin cup, plate, knife and fork, lump of sugar, and napkin. Pats of butter were now distributed, followed by the molasses jug, so as to be ready for the flapjacks that were now browning to a turn. The “Ohs!” and “Ahs!” of delight that burst forth as the cakes found their way around the circle amply repaid the baker for her reddened face and hard labor over the burning fagots.

Of course there had to be mishaps; the first piece of bacon to grease the griddle dropped into the fire instead of the pan, and a number of cakes turned out failures and had to be consigned to the waste-heap. But it was a regular hike spread, and meant lots and lots of fun, especially when the pancake contest was started.

This was something new to Nathalie, and she quite enjoyed it as she watched one girl after the other take her turn in making a flapjack. She first poured the batter on the griddle in just the right quantity, and then skillfully tossed it high in air as she turned it, so that it would land in just the right place on the pan and finish to just the right shade of brown.

All the party, even the doctor, tried their hands at this feat, all but the new Pioneer, who shrank back, afraid to venture as she knew that expertness came only with many trials. But the girls were persistent and so good-natured in trying to show her that she felt a little ashamed, especially when Mrs. Morrow, who was jotting down the names of the experts for merit badges, repeated softly, “I can!”

Nathalie immediately sprang up, and although feeling that she would make a perfect goose of herself at this new trial, took the little pitcher, poured out the batter, and then with a quaking heart watched it darken. Ah, she slipped the turner under, and was just about to give it the magic toss when her hand slipped, and batter and turner fell into the flames.

She was so disgusted with this dismal attempt that she would have liked to disappear to parts unknown if the doctor had not cried, “Ah, just one more trial, I know you will get it this time!” To her unutterable astonishment the doctor’s prediction came true, and she really tossed a flapjack with such success that her hike-mate declared it was “the best ever,” and begged permission to eat it in memory of the plucky deed.

Of course Grace, Louise, and Helen each won a badge, as was discovered when the contest was over. But even feasting has its limitations on a warm day in June, and as the edibles disappeared the hike spread came to an end. The Tike and one of the Bob Whites were now despatched to the spring for some water, while the rest of the hikers—all but Mrs. Morrow, who was escorted to the wigwam for a siesta—flew hither and thither, filling the pots with water to boil off the grease, rubbing the griddle with sand, and so on.

As Nathalie and the doctor were jabbing the knives in the dirt to clean them, Helen came running up crying, “Oh, what do you suppose the water-carriers are up to? They have been gone an awfully long time and we have not a drop of water to wash the dishes?”

“I will go and see!” exclaimed the doctor, jumping up hastily, but he had not gone more than a few steps when a shrill scream broke the brooding silence of the woods. In another instant pots, pans, and dishes were flung broadcast as every one made a wild rush in the direction of the spring, headed by the doctor. As the doctor reached the spring, however, and saw that the screams did not issue from that quarter he turned, and with a few flying leaps reached the scene of disaster, some distance down the stream.