“No, it isn’t a nickname,” returned Nita, with a defiant toss of her head. “It is just your own particular name. Shall I tell Mr. Darrell how you came by it?” And then, without waiting for permission, she told their companion the story of how Nathalie found the nest of bluebirds in the old cedar tree and thought they were blue robins. And when the Girl Pioneers claimed that she must become one of them, she had to join the Bluebird group. “Because, you see, she was a real bluebird,” ended the girl. It was then that Nathalie, who hated to be the subject of a conversation, began to tell the young soldier of her many trials in training her boys in military tactics. To her joy he offered to give them a lesson, whereupon the young Sons of Liberty were lined up, Nita and Sheila with them, and drilled in a simple manual-of-arms,—how to stand as a sentinel on post, how to salute an officer or civilian, and how to stand at attention when the national anthem, the “Call to the Colors,” or “To the Standard,” were played, and when the flag went by. There was a drill in calisthenics, and then the young military instructor explained to his youthful audience the necessity for a Son of Liberty—he had caught the phrase from Nathalie—to have clean hands, face, teeth, and finger-nails. “No boy or young man,” he emphasized, “will ever make a good soldier who will not discipline himself in these small things. It is also essential for a soldier not only to be clean, but to be courteous, helpful, and kind, especially to the aged and weak.” The drill was conducted in such a masterful, soldier-like way, and the little talk made significant by so many points that Nathalie was laboring to teach her boys, that the girls were greatly impressed, and also the children, if one were to judge by their alert attention and the worshipful glances they cast upon the young soldier as they went through their war maneuvers. Nathalie and the boys were anxious to show Nita their mountain walks, and so, with young Darrell, they spent many an afternoon, from glen and vale, in studying the mountains, with their rugged crests and beautiful cloud-effects. Their ever-changing beauty, their gigantic immensity, their awe-inspiring silences lifted the newcomers to a reverent calm, as they gazed at these everlasting memorials to the omnipotency of the Creator.