. St. Nicholas [serial] . across thepond from my cousins camp. We finally managedto reach the top of the ridge, although the bramblesand underbrush were very thick. Looking over tothe next ridge we saw clouds of dense brown smokerising. A forest fire! With all the wind behind it! We hurried back to tell the others. There werefour men, three boys, and four girls from my cous-ins camp, and four men and three women in an-other. By two oclock the trees around a little barnthat was under the ridge were all cleared away^ aditch dug, and earth spread around the edge of thebarn. Then we ate our lunche
. St. Nicholas [serial] . across thepond from my cousins camp. We finally managedto reach the top of the ridge, although the bramblesand underbrush were very thick. Looking over tothe next ridge we saw clouds of dense brown smokerising. A forest fire! With all the wind behind it! We hurried back to tell the others. There werefour men, three boys, and four girls from my cous-ins camp, and four men and three women in an-other. By two oclock the trees around a little barnthat was under the ridge were all cleared away^ aditch dug, and earth spread around the edge of thebarn. Then we ate our luncheon, and at half-pastthree the flames had almost reached the nearer ridge. The men immediately started making back-firesall along that side of the pond. We girls formed abucket brigade, and filled all the buckets of waterfor the men to put on the fire. Soon the real firecame down, but there was not much for it to burn,owing to our back-fires. We arrived home after sevenoclock, tired but very glad that the camps were THE WHISPERING PINES BY ELIZABETH PATTERSON (aGE 14) (Gold Badge. Silver Badge won July, 1920)The pines have a secret I would I could , when through their branches the soft breezesblow. They pour out their story in whisperings low. The burden of sorrow they have to tellFloats through the forest swell after casts on the woodland a dreamy spell. But their mournful sighing is sweet to oft, when my work is finished, I fleeTo the sweet-scented forest wild and free. And there, on the spongy needles of , full length, where the warm sun whispering inspired me to write these lines.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookidstnicholasserial4721dodg
