ey took a lump of clay and worked out all the hard bits, and sticks or
stones, then shaped it for the bottom of a bowl or pot. In its first
step it looked like a flat saucer, then it was left an hour or two,
according to the thickness of the clay, to dry well. After that the
sides were built up on this saucerlike bottom.

It was shaped the desired form, and patted into the thickness required,
then smoothed out nicely, both inside and out, and again dried as
before. Now it was baked in a hot fire for several hours, so that when
it was cool it was a fireproof bowl.

The only trouble the girls had had with this interesting art was the
carelessness of a few of them in cooling the dishes too quickly. They
found the clay invariably cracked when the pots were too quickly cooled
after taking them from the fire. But by slow degrees of cooling, which
took about three hours, they came out perfect.

The scouts had decorated their pots as they felt inclined, so that they
presented a varied and pleasing array as they stood about camp, in
places where the eye would see them to their best advantage. Some were
painted with wood-dyes, and others were etched in relief patterns.

When the Captain had finished her task, she silently drew the attention
of the scouts to the groups, and they all stood and smiled proudly at
their handiwork.

"We didn't see anything like that at Grey Fox Camp," bragged Judith to
Joan.

"No sir! Nor did they have a cookstove like ours! Alec may have made a
roasting-fan such as we never heard of before, but we can show him a
thing or two when he comes over!" exclaimed Joan.

At this moment Julie was heard calling the Orderly.

"How about that chicken? Some one's got to draw it so it can be cooked.
It ought to go on the fire in another half hour."

At this Mr. Gilroy called out, "You're not going to eat my chicken, are
you?"

"Sure! That's why I had Hiram wring its neck. I knew the poor thing
wouldn't object to being cooked if once its breath was gone," laughed
Julie.

"Dear me! It's my turn to draw the fowl and I hate it!" complained Ruth.

"S-sh!" warned Julie, waving a frying-pan at Ruth, "it is for the Cause
of Woman this time, so don't cry, Ruthy!"

"I'll help do it, Ruth," Betty now offered kindly. "I know how you
dislike the work, but 'Liza showed me how to do it so that it really
isn't half bad."

Betty poured scalding water over the chicken, and the feathers came off
easily. Then she slit