What is this?
Optical character recognition (OCR) is an automated process that converts a digital image containing numbers and letters into computer-readable numbers and letters. The search engine used on this web site searches OCR-generated text for the word or phrase you are looking for. Please note that OCR is not 100 percent accurate. If the original image is blurry, has extraneous marks, or contains ornate font styles or very small text, the OCR process will produce nonsense characters, extraneous spaces, and other errors, such as those you may see on this page. In addition, the OCR process cannot interpret images and may ignore them or render them as strings of nonsense characters. Despite these drawbacks, OCR remains a powerful tool for making newspaper pages accessible by searching.
THE MONMAL. 11 Family Skeleton, is the limit. He rushes out and barks at the darkness, making us think there are wild animals about. Fran keeps asking Mickey, her small, twelve year old brother, why he brought that pesky dog along. We’re going to wait for the moon to come up, because we are afraid to put our fire out until we get some other kind of light. At last the moon is rising over the mountain. The darkness is disappearing rapidly; and we can go to bed, feeling safe from harm, with a trusty ax and a rusty shovel within Fran’s reach. I’ll have to write some more tonight to tell about our bed. We’ve made it over three times in order to keep from running our feet out into the pine needles. September 5: Last night was fine. After a long time we all managed to go to sleep. This morning the sun woke us up at an unearthly hour. We crawled out of our warm beds, and dashed, with quilts wrap ped around us, to the creek. In we jumped, leaving our garments on the bank. Such blood curdling yells! That water almost made frozen images of us. Was ever such a breakfast! Sallie made about forty hot cakes apiece, while we cooked eggs, prepared the wild gooseberries we had gathered the night before, and made coffee. Believe me! Gooseberries and hot cakes are delicious. As we were sitting at our crooked table, balancing ourselves on tottering benches, Ann and I heard a queer buzzing sonud. “Abee!” cried Ann, and we both jumped up, scattering all obstructions to the four winds, and took to the tall timber. ‘‘Oh, come on back,” Sallie called, ‘‘Bees won’t hurt you if you leave them alone ” We finally sneaked back to the table. Those bees! They just stuck around our camp all the time. Ann and I had some time trying to dodge them. We would get nicely seated when along would come those bees. Over would go our benches, taking with them Sallie, Fran, and Mickey, who shouted loud protests at such treatment. However, we did succeed in eating our share of the breakfast be tween jumps. In the afternoon we went for a long hike up a pretty mountain road. We left a kettle of beans cooking on the stove. When we got back our fire was out. Someone had raided our camp for eats. The unknown person had left the cover off the bean-kettle; and the bees had taken possession. Fran, the brave, lifted the kettle; but she had taken only a few steps when she gave a loud shriek,