The ceremony was about to begin.
Mrs.Arnold rose, and in her clear, sweet voice proclaimed: "The Guardian of the Fire calls on the Wood-gatherers to bring their fuel." At once a dozen girls came forward, each dragging a tolerably large bundle of brushwood.

They deposited these in a circle, saluted, and retired.
"Fire-makers, do your work!" commanded the leader.
Eight girls responded, Ulyth among the number, and seizing the brushwood, they built it deftly into a pile.

All stood round, waiting in silence while their chief struck a match and applied a light to some dried leaves and bracken that had been placed beneath.

The flame rose up like a scarlet ribbon, and in a few moments the dry fuel was ablaze and crackling.

The gleam lighting up the glade displayed a picturesque scene.