Every one saw the consternation Nita felt when she eagerly ran from tent to tent seeking for some one from her family, but nothing in shape of father or mother, or letter was found.
Miss Miller suddenly grasped the doctor's sleeve and whispered frantically in his ear. He quickly went over to the tent where Nita stood breathless, ready to break down at the awful suggestion that either her people were not invited or else they cared so little for her that they never bothered to write!
"Oh, Nita, dear! Come here—I forgot to give you a message from your mother! I was so delighted to see Zan, I almost overlooked you!" said Dr. Baker, smilingly, although he felt like murder in his heart.
Nita looked up with eyes full of unshed tears.
"Miss Miller's party was so unexpected and sudden that every one had the greatest difficulty in reaching each other. Now, I tried again and again to reach your folks by 'phone, but I heard your father is away on a business trip and your mother is spending a few days with friends at Newport. So, you see, Nita, how dreadfully disappointed they will be when they hear all about this party!"
As he spoke, the doctor led the girl back to the others, taking all the blame upon himself for not being able to find her parents. But he never mentioned to any one excepting the Guide, that Mrs. Brampton sneered at the suggestion of giving up a Newport trip for a visit to the farm, and left in high dudgeon when her husband declared she was no human mother!
He had to go on a business trip but the doctor said it might have been postponed if he had really wanted to do so. But Nita was comforted at the report the doctor gave, and if there lurked a semblance to untruth in his meaning, the recording angel overlooked it, for his motive was high and holy.
The great feast went off with wonderful ease, considering the scarcity of cutlery and glassware. Mrs. Sherwood acted as Chief of the Kettle, while all of the girls assisted in serving their guests from the city. Bill occupied himself rigging up the unfinished target, and attending to other things the visitors had no idea of.
When the dinner was over and everything presented a look of order again, the doctor excused himself while he went to Bill's cottage to meet the postman who could be seen driving along the road. No further thought was given to this, however, as the young hostesses were fully occupied showing their collections of flowers, insects, and Tally Books.
When every one had admired the hand-craft and woodlore the Band had learned, they were invited to sit in a wide circle while the girls entertained them with dancing and fire-making. At just this time, the doctor returned accompanied by a stranger. He brought the man directly toward Miss Miller who smiled and held out her hand in greeting.
Then it became known that the visitor was a Medicine Man, an old friend of the doctor's, who was also a member of the High Council of Guidance. He had mentioned to the doctor that he expected to visit Hamiltons' kennels that week and Dr. Baker persuaded him to make it the same day that they all intended going to the farm, thereby having him present as guest at the Woodcraft camp. He gladly acquiesced to the plan and thus he was able to see the work accomplished in a month by a Band hitherto untrained in the ways of Woodcraft lore. To say he was delighted would be to express his pleasure in too weak terms.
The girls acquitted themselves admirably in dancing while the Guide beat the new Tomtom. The Medicine Man gave them valuable hints about the true Indian Dancing, and complimented Nita on her teaching, then they made fires in required time, they did various kinds of swimming in the pool, and in every possible way entertained the visitors in a most unique and enjoyable manner. The Medicine Man took charge of affairs, and at last, when everything had been finished, he suggested that he pin the honours on their ceremonial robes. This was a treat unlooked for, as Miss Miller thought they would all have to wait until their return to the city before being awarded the honours.
The blanks for coups and honours, which had been sent from Headquarters, were soon filled in and witnessed, and the Band highly flattered by the speech the Medicine Man made to them before taking his departure.
Dr. Baker accompanied him to the cottage, where Bill waited to drive him back to Hamilton's place, whence he could catch a train homeward. While shaking hands with his friend, the visitor said earnestly: "Doctor, I did not see those girls before they went to camp, but they certainly are a wonderful group of Woodcrafters now, and I shall have particular pleasure in speaking of them to my associates at Headquarters. A sight like the one I enjoyed this afternoon is one of the best tonics in our work, and it encourages us to progress and expand."
"Well, if you saw some of those very girls when school closed, a month ago, you would swear some witchcraft was working for them! I never saw such improvement in girls in so short a time," declared Dr. Baker emphatically.
By the time the doctor returned to the Bluff a lively chase was ready to begin. Zan's two brothers thoroughly enjoyed the plan, and Fiji was to be Master of the game. He was expected to run away with a stuffed burlap bag that represented a deer, and hide it in some out-of-the-way spot where a deer would be apt to find refuge from a clan of hunters. He had to drop corn for the trail, so the hunters could pick up the scent and follow. These scents were supposed to cross each other or run off in a far different direction from which the deer eventually follows in order to hide itself.
The moment the doctor arrived the signal was given, and Fiji started off with the deer under his arm. As the animal had been made that morning, in a great hurry, Miss Miller used a burlap bag stuffed with straw, and painted the features on its head. Fiji's pockets were filled with corn, and he was admonished not to take it to rocky ledges or steep mountain-sides, as the hunters would not have time to stop and hunt for lost arrows in the dense undergrowth of the ravine.
After about ten minutes' start the hunters followed after the deer. The doctor felt like a boy again, taking part in the simple sport. Every one was provided with bows and arrows, and was expected to do their best in hitting the deer in the heart.
More than an hour was spent in finding the spot the deer had for a refuge. Then, Zan being the first to lead, gave the signal that the deer was found. They all trailed along the corn scent until they met near the entrance to the cave. Here, against the opening, stood the brave burlap deer, and Zan soon had the satisfaction of chasing Fiji down the hill-side, fleeing from her arrows, which she aimed at him in punishment for doing the very thing he had been told not to do. The doctor picked up the helpless deer and laughingly carried it back to camp.
"I think Fiji is too mean for anything, Miss Miller, because we might have won another honour if he hadn't made a mess of the game!" complained Zan.
But the others laughed heartily, and averred that they enjoyed the hunt just as much as if the deer had been killed.
All too soon came the time to bid the visitors good-bye, and the girls heard with pride their parents commend Miss Miller on the wonderful improvement in them all. The great carryall was waiting at Bill's, so every one ran down the slope, the visitors climbing in, and the campers watching and advising, until Bill flourished his whip and rattled off along the road to Junction.
Gathered about the rock where Council generally was held, the girls reviewed the exciting times of the day.
"Miss Miller, that was the finest party I ever attended," laughed Jane.
"I smelled a rat when I saw that carryall by Bill's door, but I never dreamed that Miss Miller had planned it. I thought perhaps some of our folks were coming down to surprise us, and I was delighted to think it fell on your birthday," said Zan.
Then the Guide told how she first got the idea to surprise them in return for their secrets.
"Well, the doctor seems thoroughly pleased with our experiment, doesn't he?" said Hilda, remembering the wondering looks of all of the parents.
"Indeed he is! He told me, just before leaving, that the remarkable improvement in Zan and Nita far surpassed the others," said Miss Miller.
"Me! Why, I am always all right! What did he mean?" questioned Zan, astonished.
"He missed a most familiar habit, and said that the improvement was to be continued," laughed the Guide.
"Ha, ha! Zan, he meant your slang!" cried Elena.
"Oh, but I haven't quit that yet! I shall some day!" added Zan.
"You have dropped so much of it that it is remarked by those who have not heard you in a month, but to yourself it may not seem such an improvement," explained Miss Miller.
"What was it about me?" queried Nita timidly.
"He said he had never seen you in such fine health. He said that your very hair sparkled with better vitality, and your eyes were a rested blue now, where they used to be so tired. Then, too, he spoke of the improved poise in your general manners," said Miss Miller kindly, patting Nita on the shoulder.
"I'm so glad, but I really did feel badly, Miss Miller, when I found it was impossible for my family to be here with the others. I am sure mother would have been proud to see how well I am, and father would take great pleasure in seeing me do all the things I can do now," said Nita wistfully.
At that admission, the Guide thanked goodness that she had urged the doctor to make an excuse for Nita's parents, and she vowed that never a word of the truth would reach the girl from her. Time, she knew to be a kind healer, so it would not hurt as much should Mrs. Brampton ever mention it. But Miss Miller thought she understood Nita's mother well enough to know that of her own accord she would never touch upon an unpleasant subject.
The Band were so fatigued that immediately after a light supper they sought their cots, and were soon sound asleep.
The Band soon settled down into routine life again after the surprise party, the girls excelling each other in the preparation of simple meals, swimming, and other requirements of a first-rate Woodcrafter. They often referred to the Manual for ideas of how to win coups and honours, their ambition being to be able at the end of the summer to show a long line of decorations for their ceremonial dress.
Nita was working eagerly on an Indian Clock, or sundial for camp. Jane was making a correct map of the country about the camp. Elena was interested in collecting and mounting moths and insects for grand coups. Zan was becoming so expert with rod and tackle that ofttimes she returned to camp, after a few hours' absence, with a fine mess of fish. She was eager to win a coup for this claim, and was becoming a good sportswoman. Hilda, always inclined to household ideas, had won her coup for cooking, and making an Indian bed. It was her suggestion that met with great enthusiasm, and that was for all to join in building a log cabin near the camp site.
This was considered great fun, and whenever any extra time was found the girls were always busy working on the construction of the cabin. Miss Miller had drawn working plans for them and selected and expounded the values of timber and trimming.
The weather for the first five weeks had been unusually clear and fine, but the second week in August came in cloudy, and a penetrating mist fell every other day, even if it did not rain hard enough to keep the Band indoors.
"Dear me, I wish it would rain, or do something definite, and be done with it!" exclaimed Hilda, one morning, as she shivered at the dampness of the ground.
"Seems to me I haven't seen the sun for an age!" added Jane.
"Well, I'm thankful we managed our coups for star-gazing and outdoor things while the weather was so good," said Zan.
"Yes, 'cause there wouldn't be much pleasure in a hunt through the marsh for bugs, or a hike over wet hills for flowers, with this fog sifting into your marrow," whimpered Nita.
"Girls, you've done nothing but complain over the weather for the past two days. It positively makes me cold, too, to listen to you. Suppose you try to change the fog into something like sunshine within," advised the Guide.
"Miss Miller, how can you, when you feel like that hard-boiled egg that refused to digest?" called Hilda, who had just eaten a hard-boiled egg for her breakfast.
"Seems to me Miss Miller believes in Fletcherizing everything in camp-life so that we, on our return home, will win the coup of being termed thoroughly digestible even in fog!" cried Zan, making a face at Hilda.
"One thing Headquarters can say of you, Zan, and that is that your English is Fletcherized so well these days that grammatical indigestion from excessive use of slang is a disease of the past," remarked Miss Miller.
"All the same, there's room for still more improvement," retorted Hilda, who could not win the same commendation from the Guide for careful speaking as Zan did.
"I have such faith in modern improvements, Hilda, that I would go to the trouble of tearing up and discarding old fixtures as long as I could hope for a thorough renovation. That is a delectable future you all will take pleasure in looking for," mocked the irrepressible Zan, with a sweeping courtesy.
The others laughed, and Nita, whose face and manners had changed almost miraculously since her red-letter talk with the Guide, turned to her and asked: "What are the plans for to-day?"
"Well, as the rain is making it unpleasant to remain here, and a walk is out of the question, we might go to the house and light a cheerful wood fire. With some books and a circle of happy Woodcrafters round the fire, I can't picture a better day."
"That sounds like a good time, even if it will be a dry one," declared Zan, giggling at her pun.
"Perhaps you've never heard the old saying of the something-or-other who always laughs at his own jokes," retorted Hilda.
"Perhaps you're not aware that my native wit is actually penetrating your thick——" Zan caught herself just in time.
"Huh! Afraid of a demerit! Why didn't you conclude?" dared Hilda.
"Pooh! I should worry over one little demerit when I can relieve congestion of my manners! So here's to you, Hilda, old girl. I'll put it over you, old top! Now, does my native wit penetrate your thick cocoanut?" chuckled Zan maliciously.
Although every one laughed at Zan's taking the dare in such a wholesale sweep, Miss Miller felt obliged to change the subject, while Elena quietly did her duty in noting a demerit for the culprit.
Wickee accompanied his friends to the house, and stretched out in front of the log fire the moment it was blazing in the chimney-place. The girls sat about, enjoying the cosy warmth for a few minutes before going to the small library.
"Let's bring the books out here, it is so much nicer and makes you forget that we are not in front of a genuine campfire," suggested Miss Miller.
This idea met with approval, and soon every one was squatted in a circle about the fire. Wick, be it understood, holding his prior position of comfort in front of the blaze.
"Miss Miller, did you ever take any special interest in bird life?" asked Elena, who was turning over the pages of a book on birds[B] which she had found in the doctor's bookcase.
"Yes, indeed, I love birds of all kinds, and I always try and make friends with any that come near enough. I have been thinking how nice it would be to construct some bird-houses and coax our little feathered friends to live with us in camp."
"Yes, yes, let's! We can begin to-morrow if it is clear, eh!" abetted Jane, eagerly.
"Motion carried without a protest!" said Zan.
"Miss Miller wins a merit, too. Too bad Zan hadn't thought of it, she needs merits," remarked Nita.
"I was too busy planning something of much more importance to the Band than a few little flats for newly-weds!"
"What was it—tell us before you forget," cried Jane.
"Well, just this! I am sure Miss Miller has a ton of interesting stories stored away in her memory, and this is just the kind of a day to hear some of them."
"Hurrah! Zan's right. We'll vote for Miss Miller to relieve her memory of some of the bird-tales," added Hilda.
"Maybe the bird-tales I can give you have feathers!" laughed the Guide.
"We won't object to feathers as long as they are not moulting!" came back from Zan, quick as a flash.
They all laughed at the retort and the Guide continued her argument by saying, "I never like to give away anything, it is too much like charity, but a fair return for anything given is a benefit for both. Suppose I tell each one a story of some bird you find in the book, you to tell me of its habits, distinguishing characteristics, and other data."
"It's a go! We all agree to refuse charity when a much pleasanter offer is made," said Elena.
"Then we will begin with the oldest Indian in the Band—Jane, you first!" said the Guide.
"Humph! I am very fond of bluebirds; suppose I select them, you'll have to wait a minute until I find something in the book about bluebirds," replied Jane, opening the book they had.
"The bluebird is one of the heralds of Spring; the male appears about a week before the female. While awaiting his mate Mr. Bluebird visits his old haunts and gossips happily with his old friends the robins. The beautiful colours of the bluebird makes him very dear to bird lovers, for he actually brings a bit of Spring sky to chilled winter hearts. It is as the poet wrote, 'with the sky-tinge on his back and the earth tinge on his breast.'
"After a few days the females arrive in loose flocks, and then is heard the love-notes of the bluebird during his wooing of a mate. When the mate of his choice and he start to think of house-keeping they find a suitable place in an orchard-tree, stump root, old post, or a modern flat as Zan says, made by some friendly hand. Most of the house-work, such as nest building, is done by Mrs. Bluebird while the master of the establishment warbles and flits about to cheer his spouse.
"Soon a few pale blue eggs are laid in the nest and in a short time tiny nestlings appear. Now both parents are out providing food for the children who eat greedily and grow rapidly. When they are strong enough to fly they leave home to seek their own fortunes and Mrs. Bluebird starts another brood."
"That was very good, Jane; now, do you think you can recognise a bluebird when you see one?" said the Guide.
"Hardly; but a concise description follows this: Bluebirds are larger than the English Sparrow, being about seven inches long. Upper parts, wings, and tail of the male are bright blue, the throat, breast, and sides are brownish; the belly whitish. The female's colour is similar but of a duller shade.
"In the summer they are found anywhere from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada, and in the winter they travel as far south as Mexico."
"Now I will tell you a true story a friend of mine told me. I was speaking of the gentleness of a bluebird when my friend remarked, 'They can fight as fiercely as others if their selection of a home is questioned.' Then he went on to mention an incident.
"A pair of bluebirds visited the gourd-shaped nest of an Eave Swallow, built the season before. Deciding after many visits that it would suit, they made their home there.
"Robins, swallows, and sparrows that came near were fought off by the male bird from his perch on the roof near the nest.
"All went well until one day, after a severe rain storm, the nest fell and the half-grown birds scattered about the steps. One was dead, the others lying quite stunned and still.
"Lining a small wooden box with soft grass and moss, we nailed it up where the mud nest had been and placed the young birds in it. The homeless parents watched us anxiously and when we left the new domicile they took up their interrupted house-keeping with a great flutter of importance."
"Wasn't that cute of them!" said Nita, smiling when the story ended.
"I guess that friend of yours must like birds!" commented Zan.
"Indeed he does—in fact, there are two friends, a man and his wife, and I wouldn't dare say which one is fonder of birds," said the Guide, her voice taking a reminiscent tone as she recalled the valued visits at their home.
"Now it is Nita's turn, being next in age," said Miss Miller, smiling in the direction of the girl who was poring over the small yellow book.
"Why, I was so interested that I forgot! Isn't it fine to find out all about such wonderful things that are about us all the time without our eyes ever seeing!" exclaimed Nita.
"Perhaps that is what is meant when the Bible speaks of 'eyes have ye and ye see not,' and in another place something about our eyes being holden so that we do not see the beauties of Spirit," said Miss Miller.
"I know that my eyes have beheld more beauty in nature since we came here than I ever dreamed was in the world," said Elena, gratefully.
"I haven't decided on a beautiful bird so much as the fact that we have heard many of them about our camp—I mean the catbird. I see a description in this book so I will read it," said Nita.
"The catbird can be found as far north as southern Canada, and in the winters south as far as Florida. It is nine inches in length, and smaller than a robin. The upper parts are slate coloured shading into black on brown and tail. Under parts are slaty grey, with warm brown patch under the tail.
"Its nest is hidden in thick bushes and is built of twigs, grasses and leaves. The five or six eggs are of a beautiful green and the parents utter their distressed call whenever a hostile bird or animal approaches its young."
"Nita's description is correct, but I must admit that I haven't any real incident of a catbird to tell you," said Miss Miller. "A few details omitted by Nita, I can supply however. He is sleek and well-groomed, being very proud of his appearance. After he is satisfied with his toilet, he will swing on an alder and pipe his low and melodious note. But how different his tone, should you approach the nest while his mate is watching a brood of young. Then they will give a spiteful and shrill call that is almost rasping on sensitive nerves.
"The catbird is a clever imitator and many a woodsman has been misled by thinking he was on the trail of a bird he much hoped to secure, or watch. Suddenly, when he nears the place where he heard the note of the rare bird, the disappointed human will hear the catbird give a mocking laugh. It also mews like a cat, so naturally that it derives its name from the habit. I may add that Woodcraft Indians should offer an honour to every catbird that overcomes the disagreeable habit of hoarse mewing. I have heard that a catbird has imitated perfectly a strain of 'Yankee Doodle' and other music. Sometimes, one will become tame and live in the home of its human friends, in this way learning to utter sounds peculiar to mortals. One catbird is said to have cried so naturally like the baby of the house that the mother never could tell which it was—baby or bird."
"I think I'll choose a wren for my bird—they are so small and busy all day long," said Hilda.
"I know a very pretty story of Jenny Wren, so you may begin to earn it just as soon as you like," replied Miss Miller.
"The wren is found in the eastern states and is about five inches long, the wings being over two inches. Its colour is reddish brown barred with dusky shades; under-parts are brownish grey. The most familiar wren is our house wren which is fond of associating with men, building its nest near the habitations of its human friend. The nests are made of twigs and grasses and lined with any soft material the wren can find. The eggs are from five to six in number and are of a reddish shade."
"Now for Miss Miller's story!" cried Elena, eagerly.
"One summer a friend of mine was washing windows and her cloth fell on to the porch roof directly under the window. Her boy had built a bird-house of an empty starch-box with a hole cut in the end. This box was placed in a tree opposite the roof. As it had only been there a day, no one thought of tenants so soon. But the cloth was needed and she stepped down to the edge of the roof where it lay. At the same time two little wrens flew away from the top of the box where they had been watching the suspicious actions of the woman on the room.
"She threw some woollen threads and a handful of crumbs on the roof and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the wrens return and eat the bread, then carry the woollen bits into the box.
"That summer two broods were raised and sent forth into the world to cheer other people. But one little member of the second brood was so delicate that it could not leave the nest at the début of her brothers. My friend watched the nest that day, and was most eager to see what the little thing would do. That night, a prowling cat must have climbed the tree and caught both father and mother, but the child escaped—possibly by being caught in the notch of a friendly bough as it fell from the cat's claws.
"Next morning, the family were shocked to find feathers where the parents had been, and the boy, climbing the tree sadly to take down the house, heard a faint cheep! He sought and found the half-dead birdling. It was carried indoors and its broken leg placed in tiny splints. After a few days the family saw with delight, that the wren would live. It grew to be a strong bird, and as soon as practical, it was placed in a hand-made nest under the eaves of the roof directly over the window which faced the old box-nest.
"Jenny, as she was called, flew away with her friends in the Fall and the family all felt that it was farewell forever.
"The following Spring, as my friend was spading about the front flower garden, she heard a familiar cheep in the tree above her head. She looked up and saw a wren winking down at her.
"Oh, how much it looks like Jenny, but of course it can't be!" exclaimed she to the boy.
A few moments later the wren flew down and lit quite near the woman, and cheeped away as if the story must be told. The boy ran in and found his father's field-glasses. With these he examined the leg of the bird and then shouted, 'It's Jenny! It's our own Jenny with the mended leg!'
"And so it was. Jenny remembered and came back to her old home and remained to raise her family. The following year she came again, and the next year also. After that she came no more."
"Dear little Jenny—that was a sweet story, Miss Miller," said Nita.
"I want to select grouse for my wild bird—they are so pretty," said Elena, contemplating a picture of the grouse.
"That will be a good selection—now let us hear about it," replied Miss Miller.
"There are varied species of grouse, the most common, being found in northern and temperate parts of America, Europe and Asia. The largest ones found in Europe are commonly called Wood Grouse. It is a magnificent bird that grows to be from two feet nine inches to four feet in extended breadth, and weighs from eight to fourteen pounds. There are also in Europe the Black Grouse, Heath-Cock, and Black Game.
"The prairie chicken inhabits the western prairies of the United States and is the best for taste of any of the native grouse. They are much smaller than European grouse and weigh but three to five pounds.
"In New England and the Middle States the grouse is known better as the partridge, and in the south as the pheasant. They can be found where deep woods afford seclusion. They are so much sought after by hunters that the government had to pass a law to prevent them from becoming extinct. Their colouring is adapted to the colour scheme of nature and aids him in hiding from his pursuers. In early May a nest is built in a dip, or hollow, near the foot of a tree or old stump. The eggs are light buff and number twelve and more. The young grouse run about with the mother as soon as they are hatched and in a week they are able to fly about. A brood remains intact until hunters, dogs, or wild animals break up the family."
Elena gave a signal for the Guide's story.
"The only one I can think of this moment is one told me by the same friend who related so many bird-tales to me.
"He thought it might be possible to capture some young grouse and raise them in captivity and tame them. So, one day, while walking through an ancient wood road thickly covered with beech leaves, he found a mother with her brood of little chicks not more than a few days old.
"He endeavored to catch some and advanced toward the little fellows. As he did so, the mother uttered a hissing sound very disagreeable to the ear, and flew at him with wings spread and head low. As he did not stir she charged almost to his feet, then turned and struggled off, painfully dragging a wing as though it had been broken.
"He was so interested in watching the mother that he forgot momentarily about the chicks. He followed the poor mother for a short distance, gaining on her at every stride until he was near enough to pick her up carefully.
"Whoop—whirrr! away she flew with no indication of an injury to either wing. When he sought for the chicks not one could be seen.
"Refusing to have a grouse fool him in that simple manner, he hid among the leaves of a thicket and waited patiently.
"After a time a whirr of wings flew by the thicket and soon the mother called Kwit, kwit! Then, out of the leaves came the little fellows, and hopped about their mother. They had been hidden under leaves nearby and so quiet had they kept that not a sound or peep of any of them betrayed the hiding place."
"Did he catch them?" eagerly asked Elena.
"No, indeed, he smiled at the solicitude of the mother and the rare obedience of the children who had been taught what they must do in times of danger, so that he walked back home empty-handed."
"I s'pose wild animals eat lots of them?" ventured Hilda.
"Yes, the grouse is hunted both by man and beast. But the grouse knows by instinct just what to do, so they sit up in the branches of a tree during the night hours when four-footed hunters seek to catch them. Then, they find a new peril awaiting them if an owl happens to be near. Owls love to feast on a nice plump grouse.
"Beside the owl, the grouse is exposed to the cold of winter when he has to flee to the branch of a tree; if snow covers the ground sufficiently to blanket him he dives head first from his perch into the soft hiding place and it closes over him, keeping him warm and giving protection at the same time."
"Humph! I could yearn for the millennium-time when the lion and lamb shall walk together, for then the grouse will be quite safe, won't he?" said Zan, almost in tears over the troubles of the little brown bird.
"Yes, that will be a wonderful time, Zan, and we shall all be at peace there," replied Miss Miller, looking away out of the open door.
"Now see what you started, Zan Baker!" whispered Elena, who was impatient to continue the bird stories.
Miss Miller laughed and Zan retorted, "A demerit for Elena—using slang!"
"I've chosen the hawk—not because it is beautiful or lovable but because I do not know much about them," said Zan.
"Well, you have covered three distinct types in one selection, for the owl, the eagle and the hawk have much the same habits. Now read your lesson," said the Guide.
"The hawk family has several branches, the most common and the fiercest is called the sparrow hawk. In olden times the nobles at Court liked to go hawking—that is they trained hawks to hunt for them. Too, falcons were used for the same purpose.
"A hawk has a beak much like a falcon, but its wings are shorter and lacks the pointed tip. It is found in cold countries and in the hills and mountains of northern climates.
"Among the hundreds of varieties in the world, there are over thirty distinct kinds in America. Among the commoner known are the pigeon hawk, the chicken hawk, the sparrow hawk, and marsh hawk."
Zan stopped short and studied the book for a moment, then said, "It doesn't say anything about nests or the young hawks."
"Well, then I will speak a good word for the hawk for he needs it. Farmers used to think he was an enemy to be watched and shot on sight. Recent years, however, have shown that the hawk will not steal a chicken or pigeon, if there are enough mice or rodents about. Even destructive insects will furnish a lunch for him, if he can find enough. As they destroy the very things a farmer dreads for his crops, they really become a ready-aid to house-cleaning the fields.
"From the reading Zan gave us you might be led to think that hawks only inhabited cold countries, but that is not so. They are well distributed over North America and migrate south with other feathered tribes. Some remain permanently in the south. The name sparrow hawk does not signify that he kills our little sparrow, for he does not. He lives mainly on insects. The hawk's nest is generally found in an old tree hollow and the eggs number four to five—brown spotted in colour and thick shelled.
"Mr. Thompson-Seton says of the marsh hawk, 'that they eat mice, reptiles, frogs, and birds, but rarely attack fowls,' and Mr. Seton is an authority not to be disputed.
"Well, we've had our five birds but the manual says we must have about ten. Miss Miller, it will be much nicer if you tell us about the others and let us hear and think, then apply our lessons later," suggested Zan.
The other girls heartily approved of the suggestion, so the Guide looked at her watch and smilingly said, "It is almost time for lunch, and we haven't been near the kitchen yet."
"Well, lunch can wait to-day—we have all afternoon anyway!" replied Jane looking out at the pouring rain.
"I think I'll speak of the birds we are apt to find in our woods at home. Then, should you see one you can better apply your knowledge," said the Guide.
"The swallow is one of our most graceful birds. There are the common barn swallow, the eave swallow, tree swallow and bank swallow.
"The barn swallow is our greatest neighbour; he is about seven inches long with a body of steel-blue on the upper parts, head, throat and breast a warm chestnut colour. The outer tail feathers are sharply forked in shape and are tipped with white. The wing feathers when spread wide also show a dot of white now and then. They travel as far north as Greenland in summer and go to South America in winter.
"The eave swallow builds its gourd-shaped nest under the eaves of the barn, as you doubtless understood from his name. The nests are built of clay or mud, and often, when the young birds are newly hatched the weight causes the nest to break away from the eaves and general destruction results. The brave little swallow begins anew, however, and soon another home and family are his reward. The nests are lined with soft feathers and grass and have a small round entrance from which the lady of the house peeps forth at her neighbours.
"Eave swallows resemble their cousins the barn swallows in shape and color, but they are not as graceful and lack the forked tail. They are slightly shorter too, and have a brown ring around the neck.
"Bank swallows are always flitting about in daytime and you can often see them resting on the telegraph wires. He should be called the engineer swallow, as he is a digger of tunnels. He cuts into a bank with his feet until he has tunnelled for a yard or so. In a small nook at the end he makes the nest.
"These swallows are but five inches long and feed on insects as do all swallows. They are found in North America and migrate as far south as Brazil in winter.
"A bird sometimes called chimney swallow is also known by the name of chimney swift. It nests in the chimneys now, but in days when few white folks lived in America it lived in hollow trees or caves."
The girls sat with eyes intent on the Guide as she paused and Jane said, "Fine, Miss Miller, but you still have four more stories."
"I ought to be allowed time to breathe and take a sip of water like any public speaker does," said Miss Miller, rising to go to the porch where stood a bucket of fresh water from the well.
"We'll have a drink too, it is more convivial when all join in," laughed Nita.
"Since it is Nature's special brew I heartily endorse your suggestion," replied Miss Miller, in thought reading again the contents of Doctor Baker's letter.
Comfortably grouped once more near the fire, the Guide continued.
"A bird we are sure to hear while in camp is the whippoorwill. When you first hear his cry you will feel startled, wondering who is about to be whipped. Then, as the cry is repeated over and over from the willows, or some other tree, you will remember my story.
"This bird flies in the night and rests in the daytime. They build no nests but lay two eggs on a stump, or on the ground. It is a reddish-brown in colour, mottled with grey-black and white.
"They eat great quantities of destructive insects and thus prove a help to mankind.
"Many superstitious folk used to believe that a whippoorwill boded ill to the family it serenaded, but this foolishness is fast disappearing as the understanding of bird-life and denizens of the forest becomes wide-spread. And, girls, camps and organisations like Woodcraft are actually bringing about the boon of knowledge to deluded and ignorant mortals."
"Long live Woodcraft!" came from Zan in a deep-toned boom.
The others laughed and Miss Miller assumed a more comfortable position before she continued.
"There are so many sweet little birds that I am sure we have seen this summer that I hardly know where to begin. I want to speak of the oriole, the bobolink, the friendly sparrow, the lark, and, in fact, I can't repeat more just now. But one bird I must acquaint you with is the wood-pecker.
"In the spring you will see the red-headed wood-pecker. They used to be very tame and trusting, but they have thinned out considerably of recent years. The head, neck and throat are bright crimson, their backs black, and under parts white. The wings and tails are bluish black, and the wings in flight are plainly barred with white.
"He builds a nest in a hollow tree and feeds upon nuts which he stores in hollow fence posts and trees, as well as on insects and slugs. A favourite delicacy is the fresh sap of a tree. So eager is he to get the latter that he will drill a hole in a perfectly healthy orchard tree and drink the fluid that forms in the little cups drilled by the marauder. In this way, a fine fruit-bearing tree will soon show signs of the ravages of the sap-sucker.
"Our cheeriest bird-friend, I think, is the robin, for he announces that spring is surely come to stay.
"I am not going into details about robin, for you know as much as I do about him, but he ought to be included in our ten, I think," said Miss Miller.
"Oh, yes, he was a favourite with the Indians, too," added Zan.
"A queer bird I want to tell you about is the loon. You will not find him about this section of the country, but some day when we camp farther north in the mountains, we will recognise him readily. He utters a cry so like the wail of a human being that it is hard to believe a mere bird can do it.
"The loon is an accomplished fisherman and can dive as well as any expert, in fact he is known as the great diver. He swims like a fish and rides waves as easily as a sea-gull. The great speed with which he swims under water permits him to catch all the fish he wants for food.
"The loon is a peculiarly formed bird, the legs being set so far back under the tail that he almost topples over when walking on land, but this very thing gives him the power to propel swiftly in water.
"He builds a nest of grass and rushes as near the water as possible and two large eggs are laid and carefully hatched by the female.
"The keen desire of sportsmen to capture the birds that evaded them so cleverly, finally drove the loons of the Middle Atlantic States to find shelter in the north and west where primeval forest still protected them."
The Guide got up from her chair as a signal that the story-telling was over for the day, and the girls stretched out on the rug wishing the hour was ten instead of twelve.
"If you had all you wanted of one good thing you would never realise all the good things in store for you," said Miss Miller.
"I suppose lunch is a good thing, but when you have to get it before eating it, it somehow loses its quality of goodness," replied Hilda, getting up on hands and knees before standing erect.
"See how funny Hilda looks with her two pig-tails down over her head!" shouted Zan, while Hilda's head was bent low.
"That gives me an inspiration I needed for this afternoon's entertainment. I have been puzzled about Hilda's share in it. Now, if you girls will hurry to help with dinner, we can the sooner enjoy the surprise I have planned," said Miss Miller.
No further urging was necessary, for each anticipated a treat when Miss Miller spoke as she did.
Immediately after dinner, the Band gathered again in the living-room and Miss Miller began showing the girls how to make different kinds of knots. This was something new and it proved very interesting although it took a long time before anything like a successful knot resulted from the many twists and snarls made in the rope.
Then, Miss Miller showed them how to make a threadlashing, and to splice a rope correctly. This also was unusual work and proved interesting.
"I want to have you each try for a degree of Frontier Scout and eight tests successfully taken along these lines will win the degree for you. I wanted to teach you how to solder a tin and temper a knife. You already know how to use an axe correctly, and knowing how to do the things shown you this afternoon will make seven altogether. I spoke to Bill the other day about showing you how to milk his cow, and he laughed but proved willing to teach," said Miss Miller.
"Oh, Miss Miller, save us that experience!" cried Jane.
"I'd be scared to pieces to go near that wild-looking animal, Miss Miller!" exclaimed Nita, fear shining from her eyes.
"Why, she wouldn't hurt you," laughed Zan.
"But just think! She may turn and butt me!" said Nita, shuddering at the idea.
"Ha, ha! She couldn't, Nita—her horns are worn off with age!" screamed Zan, the very suggestion of grey old Bossy butting making her double over.
"Well, I think I'd rather lose a degree or take some other test," insisted Nita, so the subject was dropped for the time being.
The next hour was given to making records in Tally Books, filling in claims and witnessing properly all the claims the girls were entitled to take, and then the question of how to win additional coups and grand coups started again. Whenever a pause occurred in camp routine and fun, that seemed to lack something to fill in, the subject of how to win coups was always the most interesting to discuss.
Zan had gone to the porch to bring in a bucket of drinking water and she now announced that the rain had ceased and she had seen enough blue sky to make an old maid's night-cap.
"I don't think it can last!" said the Guide.
"Oh, don't say it so dubiously, Miss Miller. Haven't we had enough of rain all week?" cried Jane.
"It is through now, however! The wind has veered!" exclaimed Hilda who had gone to the side-door and watched the weather-vane on the barn.
"The wind may change again within a moment's time," ventured the Guide.
"Oh, pshaw! We'd rather take a chance on the weather than stay cooped here any longer!" said Elena, backed by the sense of being shut up in a house, even though the day had been disagreeable.
"Well, are we going to start for the Bluff?" came from Zan.
"Yes, but we may as well take our left-over dinner with us. It won't be such fun to get that camp-fire burning in the soaked fire-place," replied Hilda.
As the suggestion was a good one, the girls each took a dish or pail and started on the trail to camp.
"It really is too bad we couldn't take the cheerful fire with us—but I left the wire shield in front of it, in case it blazes up again," remarked Nita.
"That was very thoughtful of you, dear. I quite forgot about the fire," admitted the Guide.
"We won't need it again, so it doesn't matter much," came from Jane.
"Supposing it begins to pour rain again before night—shall we run to the house for the night?" said Elena, who had been listening to Nita's conversation with the Guide.
"It won't rain any more, never fear!" called Zan.
Wickee was not fond of walking in wet leaves, or past bushes that showered water all over him as he passed, so he dropped to the rear of the line and walked carefully in the narrow pathway that had been well-worn during the past month.
At camp, everything looked dismal and uninviting. The rain had beaten through into the cupboard and all the groceries were sodden. It had trickled on top of the ice-chest and by following a groove in the lid, managed to force an entry inside. The consequence was that a pool of rain-water stood two inches deep about the ice, butter, pudding for supper, and other items that were floating about when the lid was raised.
"I hope to goodness, the cots are dry! And the crex mats in the tents!" complained Nita.
"Humph! Feel of the mats!" laughed Zan, jumping up and down in her tent to hear the water squash underneath the piece of matting.
"My bed's all dry!" shouted Jane joyously.
"So's mine!" came from Elena.
"I'm thankful to say that mine is dry, too!" said Miss Miller, prodding the mattress.
"I put the rubber blanket over mine, so I know it's dry as bones!" laughed Zan.
"That is what we all should have done, for the dampness will permeate even if the tents are water-proof," said the Guide, spreading the rubber over her cot.
The other girls followed Zan's idea and then came out to see what was to be done about supper.
Just as they sat down on some rustic stools that had been made by the Band during the past weeks, the sun shot forth a ray as if to say good-night. The birds refused to come out and greet it, however, and nature seemed too wet to rejoice at the tardy appearance of the sinking orb of day.
"Let's build a roaring fire of our dry wood and sit about it telling ghost stories!" suggested Jane, after supper.
So, it came to pass that at bedtime that night, five sought their cots in a shivery frame of mind, due to gruesome stories, at which each tried to outdo the other in relating.
It was quite dark and the wind, which had not shifted, was blowing weirdly through the forest, ever and anon sending a dripping leaf, or wet twig into the faces of the fearsome girls.
"I can't help thinking of that cheerful log we left burning in the fire-place at the house," called Jane.
"And what a delightful walk it would be through the woods and over the buckwheat field!" sneered Zan.
"So long, girls, I'm in bed!" came from Hilda's tent.
"Mark for you in the morning—slang!" quickly added Elena.
Miss Miller, although standing on a thoroughly soaked mat, listened to the girls with a smile. She had raised a faint remonstrance when the ghost stories had become nerve-quaking, but the girls laughed merrily and begged to continue.
Just as she was ready to jump into bed a crack of thunder sounded directly overhead and a vivid flash of lightning illuminated the woods.
Shrieks from the other tents did not tend to make matters more comfortable, for it was inevitable that a shower was about to get them.
"Close the flaps and see that your tents are all well secured!" called the Guide.
In a short time the wind tore along the clearing of the Bluff and tried to rip up anything that was not rooted in the soil. The rain came down in a deluge while thunder and lightning seemed to come simultaneously, until the girls hid their heads under the bed-covers.
The water finally managed to trickle through the seams of the canvas and soon little pools of water stood in the hollows formed by the sides of the forms under the covers. Miss Miller had wisely inspected the pegs and ropes that held her tent down taut, but the girls neglected the advice given them a short time before. They took for granted that all would be well with the tents.
Then, a lull in the storm gave the girls courage to call to each other, "It's over, thank goodness! We're still dry!"
But they spoke too soon. A few minutes afterward a flash and peal of thunder announced a second storm, still heavier than the first one. A regular hurricane blew up the slope from the roadway and at every gust the tents threatened to give up their hold and fly away with the cyclone. The girls hurriedly jumped from their beds and held on to the straining ropes.
"I know just how a ship-wrecked sailor feels when the shred of sail is about to be torn away in the squall!" shouted Zan, so as to be heard above the commotion the storm caused.
Although her canvas was safe, the Guide arose and hurriedly dressed in case she would be needed at either of the other tents.
She was just about to light a candle when a horrifying yell, as from one throat, came from Hilda's tent—or at least where the tent had been. A terrific gale of wind had forced a way under the canvas and lifted the tent clear off the ground and flung it against some trees. The girls were left exposed to the elements and no partiality was shown by the rain on account of meager clothing.
"Help! Girls, come and help us get the tent!" screamed Jane.
Miss Miller was about to open the flap of her tent when the wind blew out the lighted taper. She leaned over to place it on the stand when screams from Zan and the third tent announced some catastrophe. They had hurriedly opened the tent-flaps and the wind, taking advantage of the opportunity, blew in and at once filled the hollow canvas opening. In another second both tents were blown over and down against the ground.
All five girls flew to Miss Miller's remaining tent and clamoured for admittance—the water pouring down their backs and their feet wet from the soggy grass.
The Guide shouted for them to enter one at a time through the tiny crevice she made in the opening of the tent. They crowded inside and stood shivering and ready to weep at their predicament.
"What shall we do?" cried Nita, who had never been exposed to such rude behaviour of the wind or weather.
"We can run down to Sherwoods', but they won't have any beds! They only have one room upstairs, you know," said Zan.
"You horrid thing, you talk as if this was a picnic!" whimpered Hilda.
"It is. After it is over you'll all sit and laugh at the figures you're cutting now!" shouted Zan, grinning in a superior manner at her companions.
Suddenly Miss Miller clasped her hands. "Thank goodness, we carried the trunk of steamer rugs into my tent the other week when you needed more room in your tents! I've got them right here and you girls can drop those soaking gowns and wrap the blankets about you for warmth and comfort."
The four extra thick blankets were taken from the trunk and one from the Guide's bed, giving each girl one. Zan had held a match during the time Miss Miller had to open the trunk, but it had burned down and gone out again. In the thick darkness the girls took off their gowns and wrapped the dry blankets about their forms.
The storm ceased as suddenly as it arose, so the Band debated the possibility of reaching the farm house that night.
"I left that lovely fire!" said Nita, with a sigh.
"And it can't be more than nine o'clock!" added Hilda.
"I say, let's start! We can't be more uncomfortable than huddled here. And we certainly can't sleep in one cot!" suggested Zan.
"Wait until I see if I can find the candle I had when the deluge came," said Miss Miller, groping about for the table.
"We'll need more than one light, Miss Miller," said Zan.
"I'll see if I can find the small stump I had last night," replied the Guide, finding the matches and lighting one.
The candle was soon lit and the stump found, so all prepared to leave the shelter of the small tent and seek the house.
Zan carried the new candle while Miss Miller fastened a hat-pin in the bottom of the stump and carried that. The girls easily avoided bushes and long wet grass in crossing over the Bluff, although their moccasins soon squeaked with water.
"I wish I knew where the lantern was—it would be so much steadier a light," ventured Zan, from the rear.
"I left it at the house the other day—I forgot to bring it back to camp," admitted Elena.
"I wish we had made a law to make folks pay forfeits for forgetting!" snapped Zan, impatiently.
"What's the matter with you to make you so cross? You're well rolled up in that blanket and you've got the torch, too!" retorted Elena.
Zan bit her lip but said nothing. The truth of the matter was that she felt guilty in driving Miss Miller out in the night with a rubber blanket wrapped about her. Zan reasoned that all the trouble would have been avoided if they had all paid attention to Miss Miller's advice in the beginning and pitched their tents in good ground between the trees as she did. Her tent stood any gale, while theirs—well, compare them!
"Oh, gracious me! There goes my blanket!" cried Nita, as the article slipped from her back and fell in the grass.
Just as Zan stooped to hold the candle so Nita could see where to take hold of the blanket, a puff of wind snuffed it completely out.
"Pshaw! Did you ever see the likes!" growled Zan.
"Here, light it at mine!" called Miss Miller.
Plodding along the narrow trail, now on one side in the wet grass, now on the other where the bushes shook drops all over them, they finally came to the maple grove.
"Thank goodness, we are thus far!" sighed the Guide.
"And the worst bit to cross or I'll miss my guess!" retorted Zan.
"Oh, no, we'll soon be through and over the wall of the buckwheat field. There, we can skirt the edge of the wall until we come to your lawn," added Jane.
"If you're not mired before you get to the field," said Zan, warningly.
"Why, what do you mean?" cried several voices.
"The Sap bush generally oozes water after a heavy, rain like to-day's. If we feel water bubbling up about our feet we'd better come back here and go around the grove," said Zan.
"We've had days of dry weather and the rain will have soaked in the ground immediately, so I guess we are safe to cross," replied Miss Miller, wearily.
Zan said nothing more but waited anxiously.
They managed to get over the snake fence safely and part way through the grove when a strong wind blew the branches of the maples enough to shake down a quantity of water from the leaves. As troubles never come singly, the water fell upon both small flames and extinguished them, leaving the Band in total darkness.
"Zan knows the way, so we'll follow her," suggested Jane.
"Don't blame me if we get stuck!" grumbled Zan, as she unwillingly took the lead.
All went well for a short time and Zan began to congratulate the Band upon their speedy arrival at the house. She was about to make a remark of that kind to cheer them when one of her feet sunk down over five inches in water. The bubbling about her foot warned her to pull out quickly.
She did so and jumped back. But the girls behind had not heard the water gurgle and had kept right on after Zan. By the sudden spring backwards, Zan and the girl behind collided and both rolled down in the sodden grass.
"Couldn't you look where you were going!" half-cried Elena, as she tried to crawl upon her feet. One moccasin had dropped off and she could not find it in the tall grass.
"I was looking but it was so dark that the eyes I carry at the back of my head could not see you!" chuckled Zan, to whom a spill more or less in the wet woods meant nothing.
"I'll have my death of cold as it is, to say nothing of walking in bare feet through this soaked grass!" complained Elena.
"Instead of grumbling you ought to be glad you won't get anything worse than your death! Wet feet can't harm you if you've gone the limit, anyway!" retorted Zan, irritatingly.
"I wish my mother knew of the way I am soaked!" Elena continued, whining.
"Well, she won't, thank goodness! She'd use every speck of mustard in our cupboard, and keep us up all night to heat water in which to roll you and the mustard!" Zan replied.
"Are you two going to keep us here all night while you quarrel over some one who isn't here, nor even expected?" asked Jane, peevishly.
Miss Miller had quietly chosen the way back, determined to go about the grove if necessary, so she had not heard the altercation between Elena and Zan.
By taking the round-about way to reach the house the weary and worn Band did not cross the front lawn, but arrived at the back door. As the doors were never locked they soon were indoors and before the fire-place where Nita's log still blazed cheerily up the chimney.
"Girls, have any of you seen Wickee since he followed us to the woods this afternoon?" said Zan, suddenly.
No one had, but all had heard the scratching at the front door.
"He wasn't at camp with us to-night, for he would have begged for supper," added Nita.
Some of the girls ran to the front door and, opening it, displayed Wickee on the door mat. He was perfectly dry and had been camping on the porch in preference to returning through the cold wet woods when his mistress went to camp that afternoon.
As Zan went out to the well to bring in a bucket of water, she called to all of the others, "Oh, come here and see Lake Superior!"
When Miss Miller and the girls reached the porch a strange sight, indeed, met their gaze. The torrents of rain that had fallen could not seep into the ground quickly enough and had run down from the gardens and grove, over the surface, until the lawn was reached. As the front lawn had a decided depression in the centre a lake about an acre in extent was the result.
"Imagine what would have happened if we had stumbled into this in the darkness, coming by the path we generally use?" said Miss Miller.
"We'd have had something worth Elena's crying over," said Jane.
"Well, I don't care, now! I'll be sick anyway after this soaking!" whimpered Elena.
"Indeed you won't! You'll go straight home if you continue that strain of thought here where all of us are proving that health is not subject to wet skins!" replied Miss Miller, sternly.
Elena was so amazed at the unexpected attitude of the Guide that she hurried into the house and said not another word of fear of sickness.
The girls assisted Miss Miller in making hot lemonade to warm their chilled bodies. Then, every one was ordered to rub down thoroughly with Turkish towels, and pop into bed under blankets which had been warmed through before the blazing fire.
No one felt the slightest discomfort from the drenching, but the girls all complained of the closeness of sleeping in rooms. They felt as if they were cramped in boxes.
"I don't know what we shall do at home. I begin to see what Daddy means when he says 'folks don't need over-heated homes and poorly ventilated rooms,'" sighed Zan.
"The doctor is perfectly right, too. Half the ills the present generation suffers from are caused by poor ready-made foods, lack of sufficient exercise through rapid-transit, and the sweetmeats and indolence two-thirds of our women indulge in, to say nothing of late hours, excitement and major evils," added Miss Miller.
"Daddy has written a book on just that subject, Miss Miller! How queer you should speak like he does. He thinks that this generation is using up the vitality and perfect health bestowed upon us by our ancestors, and if we don't start soon to build a fund for ourselves and our descendants we will dwindle into a puny race. That is why he is such a radical for less medicine and more common sense in every-day living," replied Zan.
"Well, we'll all read that book, Zan, when it is ready, and no doubt find out how to live better," said the Guide.
Breakfast was eaten in the house while the welcome sun streamed in at doors and windows, and the birds came out of their refuges and sang blithely to one another.
No one wanted to remain indoors any longer than was necessary, so they started for the Bluff as soon as dishes were washed. The water that had formed the pond on the lawn the night previous had soaked into the ground leaving the lawn a soggy looking place, indeed.
As the Band neared the Bluff the sound of rushing water made them look at each other in surprise.
"Oh, I bet anything, the terrific fall of rain has started a freshet! If it is, girls, it will be wonderful! Do let's run!" shouted Zan, leading the race.
"It is! it is! Look at that torrent pouring down the ravine and falling over the Bluff, Miss Miller!" cried Zan, excitedly, as they came out from the woods.
It certainly was a beautiful sight! The water that rushed down through the ravine roared over the Falls; the pool being encircled by the steep banks turned the water back on itself when it could find no outlet excepting the narrow stream at the lower end. Thus, a miniature whirlpool formed which added greatly to the wildness of the scene.
"Our tents are a fine mess!" exclaimed Elena, disgustedly, seeing the damage made by the wind the night previous.