act of trying to lift the big camp-kettle
from its trivet.

"Hold hard there!" screamed Addie, running to the rescue. "You can't
move that alone. Susan! Stop!" It was too late, however. The small
busybody had managed to stir the kettle, but, her youthful arms being
quite unequal to sustaining its weight, she let it drop, retreating with
a wild Indian yell of alarm. The stream of boiling water fortunately
escaped her, but nearly put out the fire. When the steam and dust had
subsided, the rueful scouts picked up the empty kettle gingerly, as it
was hot.

"We shall have to build up the fire again," lamented Gertrude. "Oh,
Addie, the cakes!"

She might well exclaim. In a row among the ashes were the soaked,
dust-covered remains of the precious currant-buns.

"I took 'em out of the oven because they were done," explained Susan
hastily, justifying herself. "I thought you shouldn't blame me for
letting 'em burn, anyhow; and I put 'em down there on some dock-leaves
to keep hot. I couldn't tell the kettle would fall on 'em."

"They're done for," sighed Addie. "There isn't one fit to eat. Help us
to fill the kettle again as soon as you can, and fetch some more sticks
and gorse, you black-eyed Susan!"

"Where's the milk-can?" asked Gertrude uneasily.

"I put it in the stream as you told me," replied the orphan rather
sulkily, indicating with a nod the location.

Decidedly anxious as to its safety, the girls ran to the water-side.
They always put the can in a particular little sheltered corner fenced
in by a few stones. Susannah had helped them to place it there many
times, and had even named the spot "the dairy". They looked in vain. The
milk was certainly not there now.

"What in the name of thunder have you done with the can, you wretched
imp?" shouted Addie, thoroughly angry.

"You said it ought to keep very cool, so I threw it into the deep pool.
'Tain't my fault," retorted Susannah, who had a temper as well as her
benefactresses.

"I've half a mind to throw you after it!" raged Gertie, her fingers
twitching to shake the luckless orphan.

Perhaps Susannah's experienced eye gauged the extent of her wrath, and
decided that for once she had gone too far. She did not wait to proffer
any more explanations, but turned and fled back towards the house,
resuming her neglected pan-scouring in the scullery with a zeal that
astonished the cook.

Addie and Gertie replenished the camp-fire and refilled the kettle; but
the