He also told her about the weather signs; a low cloud moving swiftly indicated coolness; hard-edged clouds, wind; rolled or jagged clouds, strong wind; and a mackerel sky, a whole day of fair weather. Nathalie, perhaps to show this young man with the smiling gray eyes who looked at you so fearlessly that she, too, did know just a tiny bit about weather signs, sang softly:
“Hark to the East Wind’s song from the sea,
Blowing the misty clouds o’er lea;
Shaking the sheaves of golden grain
With the patter of the rain;
Giving the earth a cooling drink,
Washing the flow’rs a brighter pink.
Hark to the West Wind’s song of cheer
Bringing blue sky and weather clear;
Driving away the clouds so gray
Filling the earth with sunlight’s ray;
Cheering the hearts of those who mourn,
Filling the dark with golden dawn.”
When the little lecture had ended she had learned that when a slack rope tightens, when smoke beats down, when the sun is red in the morning, or when there is a yellowish or greenish sunset it means rain; how to tell which way the wind blows by pulling blades of grass and then letting the wind blow them, or to suck your thumb and let the wind blow around it, the cool side telling the tale.
To be sure, they were all simple things to learn, but they were the essentials of life, as the doctor said, who had a most jolly manner of giving his stray bits of information, all the while making so much sport, as he ambled on, that Nathalie was sure she would remember everything he had told her.
When the girls reached the wood with its cool, damp shade, moss-grown paths, and running brooklet, they set to work with renewed vigor to hunt for specimens. The Sport, notwithstanding the fun the girls had made of her garden implements, found that they were in great demand. For a time she was the star hiker, as first one and another pleaded, “Oh, Edith, just let me have that rake a minute!” or, “Oh, I see the dandiest little blue flower here in this crevice!” and so on.
When they finally grew tired of flower-hunting they pushed their way to a level space in the open on the edge of the woods, where knapsacks, frying-pans, pots, and all such camping utensils were hastily thrown on the grass, and the girls hied themselves to the spring to wash their heated cheeks and rearrange their tangled tresses. Some, more venturesome than the others, took off their shoes and stockings and waded in the brook’s cooling flow, while the older ones, summoned by a series of bird calls, hurried back to camp to prepare dinner.
To their delight, as the girls returned from the spring, they found that Dr. Homer had built an Indian “wickiup,” that is a dome-shaped wigwam, by sticking in the ground in a circle a number of limber poles. The ones the doctor had used were willow wands, but almost any kind of a bough would do, he claimed. He then showed the girls how he had bent the tops of each pair of opposites or poles forward until they met. The ends were then interlocked and tied firmly. Over this impromptu wigwam—for it had been made with no tool but his strong penknife—he had thrown a blanket shawl.
The girls were all much interested in the Indian wigwam for this was the simplest way of making a tent, and they examined it eagerly. They were especially interested when the doctor told them that one time when he had lost his trail up in the Maine woods, he had made a dome-shaped wigwam and had rested in its shelter, high and dry, during a severe storm.