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----- {{campfp232.png}} || prose campf ||


rid meddler, might pick it up, and get a
look at the Thunder Bird's diary before
us ... the first record from so high up.
Oh--dear!"

The girl's sigh was echoed by that
stealthy wind around her, in whose every
whisper there was menace, as it swept
through the long grasses and ruffled the
ash trees of Greylock's summit.

Una, to whom this "half the battle",
the quick locating of the parachute and
its treasure, was not so vital, soared above
all threat in this witching-time of excitement
-the transcendent hour.

"The Thunder Bird's diary! Oh-h!
the Thunder Bird's diary," she repeated
dreamily, as if reciting a charm.

Being Camp Fire Girls of fervid imagination,
the supreme invention, the beginning
of old Earth's reaching out to the
heavenly bodies, gained its crowning
romance from them.

As moment by moment flew by romance
in their young breasts became a
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