Green Lake was beginning to assume life. Many new camps were opened, as well as a number of summer residences. The Camp Fire Girls were delighted with their new life. They got into the swing of living in the open, sleeping in a tent, and dining as they pleased. “It’s the ideal of the simple life,” declared Marie. “I wonder we never thought of it before.” “And we all feel so much better,” added Mabel. They had established a sort of routine, for Mrs. Bonnell realized the necessity of this, and the work, well divided, was not a task at all. Breakfast over they made the camp “slick,” as the boys expressed it, though the lads did not always follow that injunction themselves. Then came a row or a paddle on the lake, for they had hired a canoe, and a row boat. Or perhaps they went out with the boys. There was the trip to the nearest post-office for mail, or to drop letters home and to friends. Then there was the buying of supplies, though the butcher and grocer, now that the lake shores were better populated, came every day. Followed next the mid-day meal. Then more pleasures of the woods or water, receiving visitors, or making calls on new acquaintances. They did not lack for enjoyment in the evenings. Either they went to their brothers’ camp, or the boys, their forces augmented by such of their friends as they condescended to ask, called. Then there were dances over to the “Point”, the place where a cluster of stores were located. Then to bed, with the assurance of a sound sleep in that healthful air. It was an ideal sort of existence. On occasions they held the regular Council Camp Fires, with all the prescribed ceremonies. There was the lighting of the fire, the singing of the songs and the Indian music;—the song of the “Sky-blue Water.” Sometimes it rained, and they could only sit in the tent, though when it did not pour too hard they put on their bathing costumes, and went out in the canoe. “Who’s turn to get dinner to-day?” asked Marie one morning, as they came back from a launch ride, bringing some dainties to supplement the regular camp-fare. “Mine, I think,” spoke Natalie. “What would you like?” There were four different kinds of meals ordered, and each one insisted on something different until breath-of-the-pine-tree exclaimed: “Now I shall have to make up my own bill of fare. All of you go off in the woods, and when it’s ready I’ll give our call.” “All right, Natalie,” they assented and off they trooped. Natalie, in her Camp Fire suit, which wonderfully became her, with her dark braids down her back, and with a golden bandeau confining the locks over her broad forehead set about her task. She was setting the table, giving attention the while to the oil stove, which evinced a propensity to smoke, when she heard the crunch of gravel at the lake shore.