. "There isn't enough of that
frying-pan left to make grit for chickens. Two hundred feet and then
the rocks. Well, I swum! You'll go without eating to-morrow, so far
as the frying-pan is concerned."

"We ought to do something to Tommy for that," declared Harriet. "What
shall it be, girls?"

"Oh, let her alone. Tommy will punish herself if you give her time,"
averred Margery.

Tommy nodded. "Yeth, leave it to me," she urged. "I can take care of
mythelf. Buthter ith right, for once in her life. Leave it to me."

They agreed to do so. Harriet turned to Miss Elting.

"You promised to tell us the legend that belongs to this shelf of rock
on which we are encamped. If not too long a story, will you relate it
now?"

The girls crept to the fire, about which they sat in a circle with
their feet tucked under them in true council-fire style.

"You probably have read," began Miss Elting, "that the Sokokis, a
powerful Indian tribe, once held possession of these hills. Chocorua,
for whom this mountain is named, was chief of a mighty tribe. The
chief, in revenge for the loss of his son, who had been slain by the
whites in battle, killed a white settler's wife and child. This white
man swore to have the life of the powerful Chocorua. Shouldering his
gun, he followed the mountain trails for many days and nights. The
chief knew that an avenger was on his trail; his braves knew it. They
made every effort to catch the avenging white man, but he was too
clever for them. Yet not an Indian was molested. The white man wanted
only Chocorua, and Chocorua knew it. The chief fled from place to
place, ever pursued by the persistent avenger. Then, at last, the
white man found the trail when it was hot. He followed the trail, and
one day, when the morning was young, came face to face with the savage
chief."

"Do you know where they met, young ladies?" interrupted Janus, who was
familiar with the legend.

The girls shook their heads.

"Right here where we are sitting now."

"Grathiouth!" muttered Tommy, glancing about her apprehensively.

"They aren't here now, my dear Tommy," observed Miss Elting smilingly.
"The white man pointed his gun at the Indian," she continued, "but the
old chieftain never flinched. He sent back a look so full of hatred
that the white man almost feared him. The chief, with upraised hands,
called down the curses of the Great Spirit on the head of the white man
and all his kind. Then Cho