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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77584-0.txt b/77584-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..206e545 --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9660 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77584 *** + + + This ebook was created in honour of Distributed Proofreaders’ 25th + Anniversary. + +[Illustration: THE INITIATION CEREMONY OF “THE SILVER SWORD.”] + + + + + THE LASS OF THE SILVER SWORD + + + BY + MARY CONSTANCE DU BOIS + Author of “Elinor Arden, Royalist,” etc. + + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY + CHARLES M. RELYEA + + + NEW YORK + THE CENTURY CO. + + + Copyright, 1908, 1909, by + THE CENTURY CO. + + + _Published September, 1909_ + + + Printed in U. S. A. + + + TO + GRACE WINIFRED + AND + CECILY JEAN + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. A Girl with Ideals 3 + II. At Home in the Orioles’ Nest 14 + III. A Tornado 31 + IV. Castle Afterglow 42 + V. The Queen of the Silver Sword 59 + VI. Camp Huairarwee 72 + VII. How the Queen Saved a Halcyon’s Life 83 + VIII. Douglas Gordon 91 + IX. Jasper Brook 107 + X. The Trail to the North Pole 116 + XI. Mermaids 132 + XII. A Damsel in Distress 143 + XIII. Philanthropists 156 + XIV. The Camp Baby 173 + XV. A Midsummer Day’s Dream 188 + XVI. The Battle Maid 201 + XVII. Forest and Fire 214 + XVIII. Cinderella 226 + XIX. The Hemlock and the Hist-oh-Hist 245 + XX. Conspirators 268 + XXI. The Runaway 281 + XXII. Up the Gothics 292 + XXIII. Down the Slides 306 + XXIV. Life or Death 321 + XXV. The Vigil Ended 329 + XXVI. A “Stoot Hert” and a “Stey Brae” 337 + XXVII. A Coronation 357 + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + The Initiation Ceremony of “The Silver Sword” _Frontispiece_ + FACING PAGE + Camp Huairarwee 84 + As If In Answer the “Hist” Shot Forward 262 + Gazing With Admiration at the Silver Circlet 370 + + + + + THE LASS OF THE + SILVER SWORD + + + + + THE LASS OF THE + SILVER SWORD + + + + + CHAPTER I. + A GIRL WITH IDEALS + + + “Rah! rah! rah! + Basket-ball! + Carol Armstrong! + Hazelhurst Hall!” + +Jean Lennox improvised this yell on the spur of the moment, and leaning +over the gallery rail shouted it forth at the top of her voice, bringing +the eyes of players and spectators upon her fourteen-year-old self. The +basket-ball match was over; the senior team had beaten the junior by a +score of twenty to thirteen, and the winners had for one of their +forwards Carol Armstrong, the champion player of the school. The goals +that Carol had made that day! Why, just before the referee’s whistle had +announced the end of the game, standing so far to the side that her +friends had looked for failure, she had shot the ball high, high into +the air, and down it had come safely through the basket, raising the +score of the seniors to twenty, and bringing Carol another rousing +cheer. And now Jean, too, had distinguished herself. + +“Good for you, Jeanie!” cried Cecily Brook, who sat on Jean’s left. + + “Rah! rah! rah! + Basket-ball! + Carol Armstrong! + Hazelhurst Hall!” + +All the girls in the gallery except the disappointed juniors took up the +yell with enthusiasm, for Carol was not only the champion of the school, +but also a prime favorite. The sequel to the basket-ball match should +have been an instantaneous dash from the gymnasium, but this chorus, +which they had never heard before, kept the teams a minute longer on the +field of battle. + +“Did little Lennox start that?” called up Helen Westover, the senior +captain. + +“Yes, she did!” answered Cecily. + +“That’s fine, Jean!” cried the captain. + +Carol Armstrong looked up at the blushing author of the rhyme. Carol was +a fine, handsome girl, just eighteen; tall and vigorous and graceful, +with an air about her of being all sparkle and life. Her cheeks were +brilliant from the hard exercise; her sunny, brown eyes were dancing. +She smiled at Jean and blew her a kiss with the tips of her fingers, +accompanied by a bow and flourish worthy of the melodrama. Jean blushed +hotter, but oh, the thrill of happiness! To be saluted by the leader of +Hazelhurst, with whom she had not exchanged ten words in all the months +that she had been at school! + +Next to Cecily Brook was Carol’s chum, Eunice Stanley. She rose and, +leaning over Cecily, patted Jean on the shoulder. “You quiet little +puss,” said she, “you came out gloriously! Come down and let’s +congratulate the conquerors. Oh, quick! they’re going!” + +Eunice ran down the gallery stairs with Jean after her, shot across the +gymnasium floor, and caught Carol Armstrong in the act of flight. + +“Carol, I’m proud of you! You were perfectly splendid!” she exclaimed, +giving her friend an enthusiastic little hug. + +“_I’m_ proud of Nancy,” said Carol. “Nan!” she called to the other +forward who was hurrying from the room, “we’ll have to challenge the St. +Audrey girls again! We’ll beat them all to pieces with _you_ on the +team!” + +“With _you_, you mean!” Nancy Newcomb called back from the doorway. + +All unnoticed, Jean stood behind Carol and lovingly squeezed the heavy +plait in which the champion had braided her curly chestnut hair for the +fray. Before she could have the satisfaction of winding around her +finger the tempting ringlet in which the plait ended, its owner broke +away. + +The twelve players in their pretty jumpers and bloomers of navy-blue +rushed off to the dressing-rooms. The girls left behind in the gymnasium +rah-rah-rah’d for their Alma Mater; and then—for that first Saturday in +March was one of drizzle and sleet—they devoted the interval before +luncheon to indoor exercise. Jean brandished Indian clubs until her +muscles ached. Then she perched herself on the headless, tailless +“gymnasium horse” to rest, and absent-mindedly cuddled a club in her +arms. + +Jean was tall for her age, and pale, and in her own judgment she was +homely, for she did not know what charm lay in her strong, yet delicate +face, with its constantly changing play of expression. Her eyes were +large, deep-set, and of a dark, clear blue; but the times came often +when their pupils dilated and they flashed warningly. Her forceful mouth +gave quick, responsive smiles; and when, as now, her hair-ribbons had +slipped from their moorings, the heavy locks, almost black, which fell +about her broad forehead, lent an attractively witch-like air to the +bright, earnest face. + +At school, Jean was regarded in the light of an interesting curiosity; +she had among other things the distinction of having lived for two years +in Brazil. Her father’s business had called him to Rio Janeiro for a few +years, but her parents had decided that when their only child came to +fourteen she must be sent back to the United States to be educated. Poor +Jean! Shy and homesick, she had come to Miss Carlton’s boarding-school, +Hazelhurst Hall. She had stayed in her shell while the other newcomers +were choosing their best friends; and so most of the intimacies had been +formed while she was still left out in the cold. But if she had no bosom +friend, at least she had the luxury of an ideal to adore, and that ideal +was Carol Armstrong. Jean had fallen in love with her at first sight, +when, just arrived at the Hall, she had seen Carol laughing and talking +with her friends, her head against the window through which the sunlight +poured, her chestnut curls gleaming with red and gold. Alas! the course +of true love never did run smooth! Jean had not dared to confess her +admiration to any one but Cecily Brook, whom she had pledged to keep her +secret. Now and then she made offerings of candy and flowers +anonymously, leaving them on Carol’s desk, and so far all Carol’s +attempts to play detective had failed, and it looked as if her admirer +would remain forever unknown. + +While Jean was still mounted on the horse, Carol came back to the +gymnasium, this time in her school dress, and was captured by a devoted +mob, who drew her to the piano and made her play for them to dance. +Couples were soon waltzing to spirited music, but awkward Jean found +dancing more work than play, and she sat still, no one claiming her for +a partner. + +“Let’s go and poke up crazy Jane! It’s too silly for her to sit there +when she ought to be dancing!” said Frances Browne to her room-mate, +Adela Mears, when the girls had stopped to rest. Frances was a piquante +little brunette, small for her age, slight and nimble. Her bright, black +eyes, sparkling with mischief, and her elfin quickness had won her the +nicknames of “Brown Mouse” and “Frisky Mouse”; and Adela, with her +flaxen hair and small, pointed features, had been dubbed “White Mouse,” +and the room which they shared together “The Mouse Hole.” + +“Jean, Jane, do wake up! It isn’t time to go to bed yet,” said Frances. + +“Why don’t you come and dance?” asked Adela. + +“I don’t care to,” replied Jean, frigidly. Between herself and Adela +there was no love lost. + +The day before, as they sat side by side in the Latin class, Jean had +found that the translation she was writing was being stealthily copied +by the White Mouse, and her indignant start and look of scorn were still +rankling in Adela’s memory. “I know what you’re doing,” she said +teasingly. “You’re making up your novel.” + +“Why, what do you mean?” Jean demanded, looking startled. + +“Blanche, isn’t Jean writing a novel?” Adela turned to Blanche +Humphreys, Jean’s room-mate, who stood near. + +“I shouldn’t wonder. She’s all the time scribbling in a blank-book, and +she won’t tell me what it’s about,” drawled Blanche. She was blonde, and +overplump, slow speaking, and slow moving. + +“Well, I know it’s a novel, and that’s why she’s so moony all the time,” +said Adela. + +“How did you find out about it?” asked Blanche. + +“Don’t you wish you knew?” laughed Adela. + +“I guess you were in our room without being invited,” suggested Blanche. +“Was that it?” + +“‘Guess’ is not a proper substitute for ‘think,’” said Adela. + +“You _were_ in the room, or you couldn’t have seen her book!” remarked +Blanche. + +“It’s big enough to be seen a mile away,” said Adela. “When is it to be +published, Jean?” + +“Adela Mears, what business did you have to sneak into my room and look +at my private book?” Jean demanded, the color rising in her pale cheeks. + +“I haven’t touched your private book,” replied Adela. + +“You were peeping through the keyhole, anyway!” + +“No, I wasn’t!” + +“You were hiding in the closet, then,” put in Blanche. + +“Well, I had to,—to get away from Miss Sargent,” stammered Adela, who +had gone farther than she had meant in teasing. “She said I was to stay +in my room yesterday, just for nothing at all; but I wasn’t going to, so +I scooted upstairs to see _you_. But you weren’t there; and I heard Miss +Sargent in the hall and skipped into the closet. And then Miss Sargent +came in with Jean,—she was lecturing her about something or other,—and +as soon as she went out again Jean began raging around the room, and +said she hated everybody, and went on as if she was crazy, and I was so +scared I didn’t dare come out. And then she threw herself down on the +bed and cried and howled!” + +“Oh, Adela, do keep still!” cried Frances. + +Jean was staring at Adela, her blue eyes growing black. She despised +crying, but now and then homesickness combined with some trouble of the +day would bring the tears, and alone in her room she would break down, +and with the sobs would come wild raging against the fate which kept her +at school. Such a storm had swept over her yesterday, brought on by a +sharp reproof for carelessness from Miss Sargent, teacher of mathematics +and strict disciplinarian of the younger girls. + +“And then she got up and began to write her novel,” Adela went on, and +broke off with a scream, while Frances shot clear across the room. +Suddenly transformed into a fury, Jean sprang from the horse and flung +her Indian club to the floor with a crash. Adela could not retreat fast +enough, and Jean caught her by the shoulders and gripped her like a +vise, saying in a voice quivering with anger: “You’re a hateful, +dishonorable girl, Adela Mears! It’s contemptible to spy on people!” + +“Jean, please don’t assassinate Adela!” It was Carol Armstrong who +spoke. She had left the piano, and now she drew Jean merrily but +forcibly away from Adela and held her with a firm arm. “What _are_ you +quarreling about, children?” she asked. “Jean Lennox, what _is_ the +matter?” + +But Jean, utterly humiliated, jerked herself free without replying, and +ran from the gymnasium. She fled across the campus to the main building +of the school, and up to her own room in West Wing. There she sat +brooding until Cecily Brook and Betty Randolph entered. Betty was a +round-faced, rosy-cheeked maiden, cheery and good-natured. Cecily was +fair, and dainty, and sweet. The girls called her “Saint Cecilia,” and +her fluff of sunny hair, “Saint Cecilia’s halo.” + +“Jean,” said Cecily, taking her hand pettingly, “will you do Betty and +me a favor? We need you dreadfully. We’re trying to get up some kind of +an entertainment for my birthday next Saturday. We’ve thought of +charades and lots of things, but they’re all so stale, and we think +_you_ ought to be able to think up something new, because you write such +splendid compositions. You have more ideas than all the rest of us put +together. Won’t you help us, please?” + +“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” answered Jean, +gloomily. + +“No, we’re not!” said Betty. “We really do need you, and you mustn’t +feel so badly. Adela and Frances didn’t mean any harm, and Adela’s +_really_ ashamed of herself now. Carol’s been giving her a regular +blowing up.” + +Betty coaxed and purred, and Cecily soothed and comforted; and it was so +good and so new to feel herself claimed and needed that Jean’s troubled +look gave place to a bright, grateful smile. + +“I’d love to help you, if I can,” said she. “I love to plan things. But +I’ll have to have a good long _think_, and then I’ll tell you if I’ve +thought of anything.” + +They left Jean to take counsel with herself, and she walked round and +round her room till the bell rang, dreamed at table, and—luncheon +over—slipped away, no one knew where. Early in the afternoon she +presented herself at the door of the “Orioles’ Nest,” as Cecily and +Betty had named their room, because Betty had a brother at Princeton. +“The Tigers’ Den,” first thought of, seemed less appropriate to young +ladies than the “nest” of the orange-and-black oriole. + +“I’ve thought of something, but I don’t know whether you’ll like it,” +she announced. “It isn’t just an entertainment, but it’s something that +maybe will last all our lives.” And thereupon a meeting was held in the +Orioles’ Nest. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + AT HOME IN THE ORIOLES’ NEST + + + Miss Elizabeth Edith Randolph, + Miss Cecily Vernon Brook, + At home from four to six. + +Invitations in this form were distributed on the next Saturday among the +classmates of the hostesses. The cards were enticingly illustrated with +water-color sketches by Cecily,—two Baltimore orioles on the edge of a +nest, each perched on one foot and holding a tea-cup in the other. The +guests one and all accepted, and at the appointed hour the whole class +gathered in that coziest of rooms. + +“Oh, what a gorgeous cake! And I’m starving!” cried Frances. She wisely +seated herself next to the pretty little table on which stood a frosted +birthday cake with fifteen lighted candles, all rose-pink, and also pink +paper baskets filled with bonbons, a tall pitcher of lemonade, and a set +of dainty glasses. Cecily, as queen of the day, cut her cake into twelve +generous slices, while her sister oriole poured the lemonade. + +“Now don’t take too long to eat, girls,” said Betty, hospitably. “We +have a scheme to tell you about when you’re through.” But no coaxing +could induce the hostesses to divulge their secret while there was a +crumb of cake or a sip of lemonade to be enjoyed. + +“Now for your scheme,” said Phyllis Morton, when the feast was over. + +“You tell it, Jean,” said Cecily. “You thought of it.” + +“Why, we want to found an order,” said Jean, impressively. + +“An order! What on earth do you mean?” asked Mildred Carrington. + +“I mean an order like the Knights Templars,” said Jean. “Don’t you know +we read about them in French history? Now don’t laugh, this isn’t just +for fun. We’re in real sober earnest. Why shouldn’t we found an order,—a +society that will bind us together, maybe for all our lives, and anyhow +will help us all through our school life? Don’t you remember that time +in the literature class, when we were studying about the legends of King +Arthur, and Miss Carlton gave us that talk about the battle of life, and +girls fighting like true knights in it?” + +“I remember,” said Thekla Hoffman. “You started it up, saying you wished +you’d lived in the days of chivalry. You thought all the battles and +sieges would have been so nice and exciting.” + +“I know, and I felt like a goose after I’d said it,” Jean admitted. “But +Miss Carlton said we didn’t need to go back to the days of chivalry for +our battles. She said life was a great long warfare, and we had battles +to fight every day! And don’t you remember she said the girl that always +stood up for what was right, and was always high-minded and honorable, +was a true knight, and she wanted all the Hazelhurst girls to be true +knights? Well, we thought we’d better do what she said, and be knights, +and found an order like the Round Table. Of course, we can’t go on +‘quests’ as they did, but there are plenty of things we can do in +helping to straighten out troubles for one another, and Miss Carlton +says we _can_ right wrongs and better the world.” + +“My senses, Jean! Have we got to dress up in armor and cavort on +horseback?” laughed Maud Perry. + +“If you please, how are we school-girls going to better the world?” +asked Phyllis. “Be missionaries, and one take America, and one Europe, +and one Asia, and one Africa?” + +“Oh, I don’t mean this in a preachy way!” said Jean. “But if life’s one +big war, with battles every day, we’ve got to keep fighting, haven’t we? +Just look at Carol Armstrong and her basket-ball team; don’t they have +to fight _hard_ if they want to win? Well, we can fight hard to stand +well in our lessons, and to help each other, for love of Hazelhurst, +just as the basket-ball teams fight. We can be _girl_ knights.” + +“Girl knights! I never heard anything so babyish!” Adela observed to +Frances. “Let’s buy tin swords and rocking-horses!” + +Jean colored hotly. “I don’t want to _play_ King Arthur any more than +you do, Adela! I’m not five years old!” she declared. “I haven’t had a +chance to explain. We really _can_ be girl knights. There’s a legend +about a girl knight somewhere; my father told me about her when I was a +little bit of a thing. He said she was a beautiful princess and she +became a knight and she had a magic spear that would overthrow all her +enemies, and a wonderful shield. I used to make up stories about her.” + +“Oh! Just tell them that story you told me,” Cecily interrupted. + +“Oh, Cecily, no!” Jean protested. “They don’t want to hear my silly old +stories!” + +“Yes, they do. Don’t be so shy,” said Cecily. + +“Of course we do!” said Maud. “I know _I’ll_ never feel too old for +fairy tales if I live to be eighty.” + +“Well, then,” began Jean, twisting her handkerchief nervously, and +looking down, “I made up a story, once, about how the princess came to +be a knight. One day she slipped into the council-hall where her father, +the king, was in council with his knights, and she heard them take a +solemn vow to ride forth on a quest, and right all the wrongs of the +kingdom. And the princess said to herself, ‘I’m going to be a knight, +too!’ But she didn’t have any armor, and when she went to the king and +told him she wished to be a knight, he laughed at her and said she was +only a girl, and girls weren’t strong enough to fight, and there wasn’t +any armor in the whole world that would fit a little slip like her; and +he told her to go and learn the new court dance with her maids of honor, +and embroider some golden tapestry for the council-hall, and let the +knights do the fighting. But the princess was too unhappy to dance, and +she was sick and tired of stupid old tapestry. So instead she ran off +and tried all the suits of armor in the palace, but they were all too +big and heavy,—every one of them. At last she gave up in despair and +went out to her bower of roses, and threw herself down on the ground and +cried. And she said, ‘I’m only a girl, and girls can’t do anything!’ But +while she was crying she suddenly realized that the bower was growing +bright, and she looked up and saw, standing before her, a knight in +white armor. He had a spear that flashed like lightning and a shield +shining like the sun; and he told the princess to kneel down and he +would make her a knight, too, and that though she was only a girl she +should be the greatest knight in the whole kingdom. So she knelt down +and he knighted her, and then he gave her the spear and the shield, and +told her that she would always conquer with that spear, and that while +she carried that shield she couldn’t be wounded. Then he told her to go +and conquer all the king’s enemies; and so she rode out on her quest and +fought and was victorious. At last she came back to her palace in +triumph, and as her father was dead, they made her queen, and at her +coronation the knight in white armor suddenly appeared again, and +crowned her with a crown that shone like the sun; and she became the +greatest queen that ever lived!” + +Jean’s head was raised now; there was a flush in her pale cheeks and her +eyes were shining. “There—that’s just a babyish fairy-story, I know,” +she apologized; “but it gave me the idea for our order.” + +“There was a real girl knight in history, too,” said Cecily. “Joan of +Arc wore armor and fought and saved France. I’m sure she looked just +like you, Jean. I’m going to call you Joan of Arc! Miss Carlton says we +can fight _our_ troubles and other people’s too. So we’ll help to +conquer the trouble and unhappiness in the world, and that’s the way +we’ll _better_ the world.” + +“And we’ll form a society of girl knights,” Jean went on, “and we’ll +have a sword that’ll conquer all our enemies, like the magic spear in +the legend. I like a sword better than a spear, don’t you? It sounds so +victorious! You think of a general leading on to victory with his sword. +Well, we must bind ourselves to love each other always, you know, and +Miss Carlton wants us to be on the lookout to do all the kind things we +can. So our sword will be the sword of love and kind-heartedness. We’ll +have it a silver sword. Father told me that silver is the symbol of love +and gold the symbol of truth. We can call ourselves the Order of the +Silver Sword.” + +“Order of the Silver Sword! That sounds splendid!” cried Phyllis. + +“And you know King Arthur’s sword was named Excalibur,” said Jean. +“Well, we’ll name our sword Caritas; that’s the Latin for love.” + +“Why, _amo_ means to love, child,” Mildred corrected. “_Amo, amas, amat, +amamus, amatis, amant!_” + +“_Amo, amas, amat_ means the falling-in-love kind of love,” Jean +explained, “but _caritas_ means the other kind: the higher sort of love. +It means charity and kind-heartedness. I studied it out and then I asked +Miss Carlton. Well, if you like the idea, we’ll be the Order of the +Silver Sword. And the head of the order will be the Queen, and we’ll +elect a new queen every year.” + +“Then she’ll be a _president_,” observed Maud. + +“Yes, of course; but you have to say _queen_ to make it old-timey. The +president and her knights would sound too funny! And the officers will +be the princesses. The secretary can be the Princess of the Scroll, and +the treasurer can be the Princess of the Treasure. And the rest of us +will be the maids of honor, but we’ll all of us—Queen and all—be girl +knights, warrior maidens.” + +“That’s just the thing for me!” broke in Hilda Hastings. “My name means +_battle maid_.” + +“Does Hilda mean battle maid? Oh, but that’s just perfect!” exclaimed +Jean. “Battle maid sounds ever so much better than girl knight. Let’s +call ourselves _battle maids_, shall we?” + +“But you haven’t said anything about the badges, Jean,” said Betty. +“We’re going to have the darlingest badges!” + +“Yes,” said Jean. “You know we must have a shield as well as a sword, +and the two together will make a lovely badge. And don’t you think it +would be beautiful, if the sword’s silver, to have the shield gold?” + +“Lovely!” said Thekla. + +“So we’ll have the golden shield of truth,” continued Jean. “That will +mean that we’re going to be true to each other, and true to what is +right. And truth is _veritas_ in Latin,—I looked it up. So we’ll name +our shield Veritas. And our badge will be a golden shield with a silver +sword across it; and the motto will be ‘Caritas et Veritas.’” + +“Don’t you think it’s a terribly solemn kind of a society?” ventured +Mildred. + +“Oh, no, because we’re going to have lots of fun in it, too!” declared +Jean. “We’ll have meetings every week and always get up something jolly +to do. And we can give entertainments for charity. We might act a play +some time!” + +“And we must have initiations,” said Betty. + +“Initiations are loads of fun,” said Frances. “We can play all sorts of +tricks and scare each other to death!” + +The gleam of silver swords and golden shields, the martial tone of the +enterprise, and the prospect of initiations and entertainments kindled +the zeal of the company in general, and from frisky Frances to ponderous +Blanche every one expressed her readiness to enlist. + +“Now,” said Cecily, when the recruits had been enrolled, “first of all +we’ll have to call a meeting to elect our officers. Oh, and Jean, do get +us your list of rules! Jean’s written out a beautiful set of rules.” + +“I haven’t had time to finish copying them. I’ll do it right away. It +won’t take me five minutes,” said Jean. She whispered something in +Cecily’s ear and left the room. + +“I’m going to give out my birthday souvenirs while we’re waiting,” said +Cecily, and she and Betty took from the table the dainty candy baskets +and distributed them among the guests. To the handle of each basket was +tied with a pink ribbon a card bearing the name of the girl who received +it, and an accompanying bit of verse. + +“Why, I didn’t know you could write poetry!” exclaimed Phyllis, looking +up from her card. + +“P’raps I can and p’raps I can’t,” replied Cecily. “P’raps I promised +not to tell who wrote them!” + +“I know who wrote them!” said Hilda. “It was Jean, so you might as well +own up. She’s the only one of us all who could do it.” + +“Yes, it was Jean,” said Betty. “_I_ didn’t promise not to tell.” + +“She asked me to give out the baskets while she was out of the room,” +said Cecily, “so she wouldn’t have to listen to her own poems.” + +“My, isn’t she funny! I should think she’d be so proud she could write!” +said Phyllis. “Just listen to mine, girls, it’s too dear for anything!” +And she read: + + “Airy and high, + Under the sky, + Is the nest where the orioles flit and fly. + Sweet Phyllis, rest, + And be a guest + At the afternoon tea in the Orioles’ Nest.” + +“Cecily ought to have read hers first, because it’s her birthday,” said +Betty. “Read yours now, Cece,” and Cecily read: + + “Saint Cecilia, hail to thee + On this happy day! + May’st thou sorrow never see, + But from every care be free! + May thy life all sunshine be! + Storm-clouds, keep away! + + “May the birds their sweetest sing + On this birthday bright! + May good fairies on the wing + All their gifts most royal bring, + And, to crown their offering, + Joyous dreams to-night!” + +“Now listen to mine,” said Betty: + + “Oh, good Queen Bess, in days of yore, + A shocking temper had! + She stamped her foot upon the floor + Whenever she was mad. + + “She frowned a most terrific frown, + And tore her hair so red, + And brought her golden scepter down + On Walter Raleigh’s head! + + “But here we have a good Queen Bess + Who rules us with a smile, + Her heart is full of gentleness + And sunshine all the while. + + “She ne’er was known to box our ears; + She never pulls our hair. + Then let us give three hearty cheers + For _our_ Queen Bess so fair!” + +“Why, that’s simply fine!” exclaimed Maud. + +Rhyme after rhyme was read and received praise that would have set the +poet’s pale cheeks glowing again, could she have heard. + +“Why don’t you two read _your_ poems?” Cecily demanded of Frances and +Adela, who had sat whispering over their cards without joining in the +applause. + +“We Mouses are too ashamed,” said Frances. “Oh, dear! oh, dear! I’m +really and truly ashamed of myself! I made Jean hopping mad yesterday; I +illustrated her composition with giraffes—giraffe’s my name for her, you +know,—she’s so tall and lanky! And now just hear what a duck of a thing +she’s given _me_! I’m going to call her Giraffe the Generous!” And she +read: + + “Oh, welcome, bright-eyed Frisky, + You brown and tricksy Mouse! + Come in and nip and taste and sip, + At tea in the Orioles’ house. + + “We need you at our party + To frolic and frisk and play, + For the merriest treat would be incomplete + If the Brown Mouse stayed away.” + +“Mine’s a dear, too,” said Adela. “Listen: + + “O lily-white Mouse, we are glad to see + You have crept from the Mouse Hole to come to our tea! + We know your fondness for sugar and spice + And birthday parties and all things nice. + So nibble your candies; no cat will molest + The Mouse that is safe in the Orioles’ Nest.” + +“I’ll tell you why she’s so nice to you,” said Cecily. “It’s because +she’s using the sword Caritas! And you’ll have to stop teasing her after +this if you wish to belong to the order! I’m going to tell her we’re all +through; and please everybody be nice to her when she comes back.” She +left the Orioles’ Nest and went upstairs to Jean’s room, “Castle +Afterglow,” as Jean had sentimentally named it while gazing out at a +sunset. Cecily walked in, stopped short and stared, the spectacle which +met her astonished gaze banishing all thought of battle maids and their +silver swords. + +“Why Jean!” she exclaimed, “what on earth are you doing? Are you +house-cleaning?” For Jean was sitting on the floor of Castle Afterglow, +surrounded by all her worldly goods. Dresses and school-books, +petticoats and writing pads, shoes and ribbons, Sunday hat and tennis +racket, all lay in one chaos. Bureau drawers were tilted forward, empty +and threatening to fall out. The desk had been emptied and a snowfall of +papers was sprinkled about the room. Jean met Cecily’s amused look with +a glare. + +“I’ve been robbed!” she said, in a tragic tone. + +“Robbed?” cried Cecily. + +“Yes, robbed, robbed, _robbed_!” Jean repeated. “And I know who did it, +too!” + +“Who?” asked Cecily, thinking of the new housemaid. + +“That contemptible Adela Mears!” + +“Jean, are you crazy! The idea of any girl at our school stealing! You +ought to be ashamed of yourself!” + +“_I_ call it stealing, to come into my room when nobody’s here and take +away my book!” + +“Oh, is that all? She borrowed a book?” + +“_Borrowed!_ She _stole_ it to torment me, and I’ll never forgive her!” + +“What book was it?” + +“The book with all my writings,” moaned the authoress of fourteen. + +“The book she saw you writing in when she hid in your closet?” asked +Cecily. + +Jean nodded disconsolately. “I’d scribbled the rules for the order in +the end of the book, and I hadn’t quite finished copying them out nicely +to read to the girls when I had to go down to the party. And when I came +upstairs just now, to finish them, I found the book was gone.” Then she +started to her feet. “I’m going for Adela this very minute!” + +Cecily caught Jean and held her tight. “Wait, _please_ wait!” she +begged. “I don’t believe she’s taken it at all. It’s probably under some +of your things.” + +“No, it’s not,” answered Jean, as Cecily began to fish in the +conglomerate mass on the floor. “I’ve hunted through everything. And I +know it’s Adela, because she’s been simply crazy to find out what’s in +my book. I’d _die_ before I’d show it to _her_. Oh, the mean, hateful +thing! I’m going for her!” + +But Cecily caught her again. “Please! Jean, please!” she begged. “You +don’t want to spoil our party, do you? Let me go for you, and if she +_has_ taken it I’ll make her give it back. But if _you_ fly at her and +then you find she hasn’t, you’ll feel so silly.” + +“She _has_ taken it.” + +“Well, any way, let me go for you, and you pick up your things. Miss +Sargent will give you a big scolding if she finds your room like this.” + +Jean knelt down again amid the chaos, but she asked anxiously: “_You_ +won’t look at my book if you find it, will you?” + +“I should think not!” answered Cecily, indignantly. “But why are you so +afraid to have anybody see it?” + +“Why, Cecily, it has all my most secret thoughts!” replied Jean +tragically. + +“What do you mean? Is it a journal?” + +“I began it as a journal,” said Jean. “But I kept forgetting to write it +up. So I began putting in all kinds of stuff; rhymes and stories and +lots of nonsense; and I’ve written some things that I wouldn’t have +anybody see for the world. To think of her reading it all and making fun +of it!” + +“Oh, she couldn’t be so mean! And I don’t _much_ think she’s taken it,” +said Cecily, refusing to believe in such villainy; but Jean picked up a +little linen handkerchief. + +“Look there!” she cried. “It’s _Frances_!” + +Cecily examined the innocent bit of white and saw on the hem “Frances E. +Browne” marked in indelible ink. She looked at it in dismay. + +“It was both of them! I’ll speak my mind to them now!” + +“No, no! Go to their _room_ first. They must have left it there,” said +Cecily. + +“Yes, that’s what I’ll do!” exclaimed Jean. “I’ll get it first and then +I’ll settle them!” + +They went down together to the floor below and invaded the Mouse Hole, +searching in every nook, but that precious volume was nowhere to be +seen. “I’m going _now_! I’ll _make_ them give it to me!” Jean’s eyes +flashed fire. She turned and found peeping in at the door, Frances and +Adela. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + A TORNADO + + +There had been two uneasy consciences in the Orioles’ Nest as the +minutes went by and Cecily and Jean did not appear. Adela peeped out +into the hall and announced: “There go Jean and Cecily into our room! +Frisky, do you suppose—?” + +“Fury! she must have found out!” said Frances. + +“Found out what?” asked Phyllis. + +“Look here!” said Betty. “You two are up to something!” + +“Ah, tell us, can’t you? Quick! before they come back!” begged Mildred. + +“Shall we?” asked Adela. + +“I don’t care,” said Frances. + +“Go on! hurry up!” Mildred urged. + +“Why, girls,” said Adela, “this morning Frisk wanted to make up an +‘apple-pie bed’ for Blanche, so we sneaked up into her room—” + +“Well, you hadn’t any business to!” said Blanche. + +“Don’t get mad, old maid, we left your ‘apple-pie’ bed for another +time,” said Frances. And Adela went on with the confession. + +They had found on the table in “Castle Afterglow” the book in which +Adela had discovered Jean writing when she had hidden in her closet. In +their mood of thoughtless mischief the temptation to look at the +mysterious volume had proved irresistible, and honor was forgotten. + +“And it’s the queerest thing you ever saw!” said Adela. “She’s written +the greatest lot of poems and stories, and _odes_ to—whom do you think? +Somebody she’s in love with!” + +“A boy?” asked Blanche. + +“No, it’s a _girl_. It’s Carol Armstrong! She’s dead in love with her! +Well, we thought it was a shame for Carol not to know Jean was in love +with her, and we knew wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of _Jean_, so we +wrapped it up in white tissue paper and tied it with red ribbon, and +wrote on it, ‘Miss Carol Armstrong, with love from Jean Lennox’; and we +left it on Carol’s bureau.” + +“Well! You’re nice girls to belong to the Order of the Silver Sword!” +cried Betty, indignantly. “That was a dreadfully mean trick!” + +“We didn’t mean any harm. It was only a joke,” said Frances, looking +troubled. + +“Come along. Let’s go and see what she’s doing in our room,” Adela +proposed, as the suspense grew unbearable. The guilty twain left the +Orioles’ Nest and crept down the hall, an excited procession tiptoeing +after them; and peering in at their own door they brought up face to +face with Jean. + +“Frances Browne, you’ve stolen my book!” Jean rushed forward and panic +seized the culprits. Frances pulled the door to, shutting Vengeance +inside the Mouse Hole, and clung to the door-knob with all her might. + +“You stole my book! I’ll never forgive you—never!” cried Jean, +furiously, struggling to open the door. Adela whipped a key from her +belt. She had carried it to the party, intending to run home first and +lock her room-mate out; but now she used it to lock Jean and Cecily +_in_. Then she darted away and fled upstairs. Jean rattled her end of +the knob till she almost wrenched it off, and beat upon the door, crying +wildly: “Let me out! Let me out!” + +“Let us out this minute,” Cecily commanded. + +“I can’t,” Frances called back. “Whitey’s run off with the key.” + +“We’ll catch her, though!” said Betty. “Come girls!” + +There was a sound of feet hurrying away, but Blanche lingered to soothe +her room-mate. “Jean, don’t make such a fuss. Miss Sargent will hear +you,” she called. “They gave your book to Carol Armstrong for a joke, +that was all. You can get it back as soon as they let you out.” + +“Frances, you and Adela are cruel, wicked, dishonorable girls!” cried +Jean, passionately. “I’ll never forgive you as long as I live, and I’ll +never forget!” + +But Frances hurried away to join the hunt for the White Mouse, and Jean +flung herself down in despair on Adela’s bed, and buried her burning +face in her enemy’s pillow. She knew Carol was giving a tea to the +senior class, of which she was the President. No doubt she was reading +the book at that very moment to her classmates, and they were laughing +together over those sentimental outpourings. The idea was unbearable! + +“I wish you wouldn’t feel so badly,” said Cecily. “I don’t believe +Carol’s reading your book at all. I wonder if I could make her hear if I +put my head out of the window and screeched. I’d tell her not to read +it.” + +“We can get out by the window!” cried Jean. She was across the room in +an instant and raising the sash. “Come on!” she said, and scrambled upon +the sill. + +“No, thank you,” replied Cecily, gripping her fast. “I don’t care to +break my neck, and you shan’t break yours, either!” + +“Fiddle! we won’t get hurt! I’ll go crazy if I stay locked up any +longer!” Jean twitched herself free and let herself down to the sloping +piazza roof. The bow-window of Carol’s room was open. In it a girl was +sitting, and though her back was turned, Jean recognized Nancy Newcomb +by the copper-red hair shining in the sun. The sound of laughter came +through the open window. + +“Cecily,” she said, “I simply _must_ find out if those girls are reading +my book.” + +Deaf to her friend’s pleading, she made her way slowly and cautiously +along the roof and safely reached the bow-window. The curtain sheltered +her, and peeping over Nancy’s shoulder, she looked in. There on the +divan was Carol, flushed and laughing, and struggling to rise, while her +room-mate, Eunice Stanley, held her down and Marion Gaylord sat in her +lap, fettering her with arms around her neck. Helen Westover, standing +behind, pressed a fat sofa cushion down on the prisoner’s head, and +called out: “Now, Nan, go ahead while I have her smothered!” + +Furtively Jean craned her neck and saw the lost book open on Nancy’s +lap. That was the moment to speak, but she felt paralyzed; and Nancy +began slowly and impressively: + + + To Carol + + My love has a forehead broad and fair, + And the breeze-blown curls of her chestnut hair + Fall over it softly, the gold and the red + A shining aureole round her head. + + Her clear eyes gleam with an amber light, + For sunbeams dance in them swift and bright! + And over those eyes so golden brown, + Long, shadowy lashes droop gently down. + +“Take away that cushion, Helen,” said Marion. “I want to measure her +shadowy lashes. Hold up your head, Beauty. Let me see if your eyes +really are _yaller_.” + + Oh, pale with envy the rose doth grow + That my lady lifts to her cheek’s warm glow! + +Nancy continued. “Imagine Carol sentimentally lifting a rose to her +cheek! She probably presented it to the botany class for dissection. + + But for joy its blushes would come again + If my lady to kiss the rose should deign. + +“Girls, we’ve discovered the rising genius of the twentieth century! I’m +sorry the last verse is scratched out, and she’s written ‘apple’ all +over it, so you can’t read a word.” She turned a page or two and gave a +shriek of glee. “This is the richest yet! Carol is the heroine of a +novel! It’s called ‘Hearts of Gold!’ Listen: + + The sun was setting. The western sky was all ablaze, and in the + radiance of the dying day stood Carol on the brow of Rosslyn Hill. + She shaded her eyes with her hand, and gazed down the hillside. She + was a tall, beautiful girl, with sunset gleams in her hair.” + +“Sunset gleams! Oh, now we know what color Carol’s hair is!” said +Marion. “It’s purple and crimson and gold and pink, with streaks of +green!” + + But she was not thinking of the lovely picture that she made. Far + down the green slope she saw, climbing the hill, a tall, athletic + figure; young, handsome, and manly. Her breath came quick; her heart + throbbed. Arthur de Laney was coming! + +A peal of laughter interrupted the reader. Poor Jean! She listened, her +cheeks burning. But Carol freed herself at last, and flew to recapture +the prize. + +“You wretch, give me back my property!” she cried. “I’m going to have +Jean for my maid of honor when I marry Arthur, and I won’t invite any of +you to my wedding!” + +There was a laughing battle, from which she came out victorious. The +next moment there came an unlooked for diversion. + +“Jean Lennox, what are you doing on the roof?” The start that Jean gave +nearly made her lose her balance. She looked up and saw Miss Sargent +leaning out of the third story window directly overhead. The girls, +hearing the voice, looked out, and Jean stood revealed to the senior +class. + +“You eavesdropper!” cried Nancy. “You scared me to death!” + +“Come in, poet laureate!” called Carol; and Jean came in with the +precipitation of a bombshell, and in an equally friendly manner. She was +quivering with excitement. + +“Jean Lennox, you’re a genius!” exclaimed Carol. + +“Give me back my book!” Jean demanded fiercely. + +“Indeed, I won’t! It’s lovely,” said Carol. “Don’t misunderstand, dear. +They were just teasing _me_.” + +“Give me back my book!” Jean repeated. + +“No, I won’t. It’s too valuable a present,” said Carol. + +“It’s _not_ a present!” and Jean snatched the book away. “_I_ didn’t +give it to you. It was Frances and Adela!” + +“Frances and Adela! Why, what do you mean!” asked Carol. “Didn’t _you_ +leave it here?” + +“Do you think I’d be such a conceited idiot?” cried poor Jean. “Frances +and Adela stole it out of my room and gave it to you just to plague me!” + +“The wicked little monkeys!” exclaimed Carol. “Won’t I pitch into them +when I catch them! But you needn’t mind our seeing your book. You ought +to be proud of it! I’m sure _I’m_ proud to have such lovely things +written about me. And you mustn’t mind Nan and Marion; they’d make fun +of Shakespeare!” + +“Of course we were only teasing Carol,” said Nancy. “We were afraid +she’d get vain with so many compliments! Dear me! I wish I could write +half as well!” + +“You must write for the ‘_Hazel Nut_,’ after this, Jean,” said Eunice, +who was editor of the school paper. + +But Jean was too deeply wounded to take their assurances in earnest. +Crimson with shame, she turned toward the door. Carol followed and put +her arm over her shoulder. + +“You mustn’t feel so hurt, dear,” she began gently. Here the door burst +open and in rushed Cecily. + +“Frances and Adela came back and let me out, and Miss Sargent caught +them!” said she. “I’m afraid she’ll be coming after _you_ now, Jean. +Don’t go out or she’ll see you.” And then indignant Cecily told the +story of the book stealing and the locking in. + +“Those children always _were_ terrors, especially Adela! This is simply +outrageous!” declared Carol. + +“We shall have to see they’re kept suppressed after this,” said Eunice, +with severity in her blue eyes. + +“I _intend_ to suppress them!” said Carol, with decision. She stepped +out into the hall, and stepped back again with the warning: “Look out, +everybody! the sergeant-at-arms is coming!” + +The next minute Miss Sargent was in the room. She carried herself with +the military erectness that distinguished her, and said sternly: “Jean, +I am astonished! You have done a most dangerous thing. Do you not know +that it is absolutely forbidden for any girl to venture out on the +roof?” + +“But she was locked in, poor child!” Carol interposed. “The law doesn’t +say you mustn’t get out on the roof if you’re locked in and can’t get +out any other way, does it?” + +“Miss Armstrong, I think you forget yourself,” said the teacher. “It was +most unladylike, most hoidenish, Jean, for a great girl of your age to +climb out there as you did. Do you not know that you endangered your +life? It is a miracle you did not slip and fall. Now, go to your room. I +found it in a most disgraceful state of disorder just now. Put +everything in its place at once. You will remain there till Miss Carlton +returns from New York this evening.” + +Jean felt Cecily give her hand a sympathetic squeeze. She started to +leave the room, but Carol’s arm was around her still, and it tightened +and held her back. + +“Miss Sargent,” said Carol earnestly, “please don’t send her to her +room. She hasn’t been the least bit to blame. Some of the girls have +been treating her abominably and she’s all excited and upset. Just see +how nervous she is: she’s trembling all over! Let me keep her here with +me and get her quieted down.” + +“Carol, I must remind you that it is not your place to interfere with +the teachers,” returned Miss Sargent. “Jean, go to your room instantly.” + +Jean obeyed, but as she left the room she gave Carol one grateful look +and saw that the clear brown eyes were flashing. + +Then she ran upstairs, slammed her door, and imprisoned herself in +Castle Afterglow. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + CASTLE AFTERGLOW + + +Jean’s first act on shutting herself up in her castle was to fling her +book across the room. Then she picked it up and tore it into fragments. +Busy with destruction, she forgot to put the disordered premises to +rights, and by the time that a mass of scraps in the wastebasket and a +bent and inky cover were all that was left of the book, Miss Sargent +came in. Finding that chaos still reigned, she made her scolding doubly +sharp. The tired, nervous teacher found her pupil most exasperating, for +Jean would give her only scowls and glum silence, and Miss Sargent left +her with the assurance that her “disobedience and ill-temper” would be +reported to Miss Carlton on her return from the city. + +Slowly and wearily Jean put the room in order, tormenting herself over +her grievances as she did so, and hotly rebelling against life. +Suddenly, in collecting the scattered contents of her desk, she picked +up the paper on which she had been copying her code of rules for the +order. Her eyes fell on the heading: “The Order of the Silver Sword.” +The name of that sword was Caritas,—it was a sword of love! At the very +outset of her quest, Jean had forgotten her silver weapon and been +worsted when she might have gained a victory! Her brave resolutions came +back to her: she had decided that her own hot temper should be one of +the enemies she would fight down with the sword of love; and now she had +fallen in her first battle! Cecily had seen her, and all the girls must +have heard her! “I founded the order, and then I got angry the first +minute!” she said to herself. “And I felt as if I hated Frances and +Adela! I said I’d never forgive them! They’ll all think I wasn’t in +earnest in what I said about fighting our battles, and charity, and all +that! I’ve disgraced myself! I can’t ever look them in the face again!” + +Then came passionate longing for home. If only she could tell out the +whole trouble in the comforting shelter of her mother’s arms! And the +humiliation of her downfall, and the rush of homesickness, together, +brought the rain after the thunder. + +That evening, when the girls gathered in the gymnasium for the Saturday +dance, Carol was missing. She had slipped away in her pretty white +dress, and just as the music was beginning she was knocking at the door +of Castle Afterglow. No answer came. She opened the door and went in. +The room was dark, but the light from the hall showed Jean huddled in a +forlorn bunch on the window-seat. Her head was turned away, and she was +resting her forehead against the pane. + +“May I come in?” asked Carol. + +Jean started and looked at her visitor. + +“You poor little soul, all alone here in the doleful dark!” said Carol. +“May I light up? It’s against the rules to come, I know, but I can’t +help it. I simply _had_ to run up and see you! You don’t mind if I pay +you a call?” + +“Oh, no!” said Jean, longingly, for her heart was very hungry just then. + +Carol turned on the electric light. “Why, Jean, dear!” she cried, as she +saw the poor girl’s face. It was feverishly flushed, and disfigured with +the burning tears that had been shed. + +Jean was ashamed to have her piteous state found out, and bent her head. +But Carol seated herself beside the pathetic little figure, and, putting +her arms around her, drew her close and kissed her. + +“You poor little girlie!” she said. “They’ve been martyring you! The +idea of shutting you up in prison like this! It was an outrageous shame! +Never mind! You just wait till Miss Carlton comes back, and she’ll set +things straight! But I’m glad I got the book, any way! To think I might +have gone on to the end of school, and never found you out, you dear!” + +Jean listened to the girl who had seemed so far above her, and had +suddenly come so close, and her poor, little, lonely heart began to be +consoled: yet she held herself stiff and erect, for she felt her +self-control giving way under kindness. The tears were rising again, +and, in spite of her efforts to keep them back, down her cheeks they +rolled. She tried to jerk herself away, but it was no use. Carol had +seen the tears, and she drew the tired, aching head gently down on her +shoulder. Then Jean gave up the struggle, and nestling close to her new +friend, had her cry all over again; but all the time there was the sense +of being comforted, for Carol’s arms were holding her fast, and she +heard a soft voice speaking the first loving, petting words that she had +heard in all those dreary months at school. Jean lifted her head at +last. + +“I can’t help it!” she said. “I was so homesick, and I +wanted—somebody—so much! And—and—I thought—nobody cared. And I was so +dreadful to-day. I got so angry! I disgraced myself so! Oh, my head! It +never ached so before!” She pressed her hands to her temples where it +seemed as if hammers were pounding. + +“Does your head ache so, dear?” Carol stroked Jean’s forehead. “Why, you +poor child! Your head’s burning!” she exclaimed. “Bed’s the place for +_you_.” + +“I don’t want to go to bed,” said Jean, too tired to stir. + +“Oh, yes, you do! Then we can have the light out and let in some fresh +air. This room’s cooking hot! I don’t wonder your head aches.” + +“I’ll go to bed later, but I want _you_, now.” + +“Well, you’re going to have me! I’m the one that’s going to put you to +bed. Come along! I’m a terrible boss, you know; and I always get my own +way, so you might as well give in prettily first as last.” Merrily +masterful, Carol took possession of Jean, and a few minutes afterward +the patient found herself in bed. + +“I love to play trained nurse,” said Carol, tucking her up. “Now I’m +going to show you the way I cure Eunice when she’s studied herself into +a headache. I’ll have to go and get something first. Will you be a good +baby while I’m gone?” + +“I’ll be good,” Jean promised, and she lay still, feeling as if the +world had turned around in a very unexpected way during the last few +minutes. + +Carol’s “something” turned out to be cracked ice, and she returned from +a trip to the lower regions with a bowlful. + +“Delia was a jewel,” she said. “She’s given me enough to freeze ice +cream. She’s quite broken-hearted because you wouldn’t eat any dinner, +and she says she’s going to bring you up some ‘crame toast’ when she +comes upstairs, to ‘timpt your appetoite.’” + +While Jean cooled her parched throat with ice Carol rummaged about for +handkerchiefs, taking tidy Blanche’s when she could not find Jean’s. She +soaked a handkerchief, wrung it out, cooled it in her bowl of ice, and +laid it on the burning forehead. + +“Oh, but that feels good!” murmured Jean. + +Carol put out the light, raised the window, letting in the crisp night +air, and settled herself in a chair by the bedside. + +“Now,” said she, “we’re as cozy as can be, and you’re going to sleep +like a well brought up infant.” + +She began to stroke the aching head with a soft, quieting touch. Jean +closed her eyes and lay obediently still; and gradually, as the cold +compresses were renewed and the gentle stroking soothed her, the hammers +in her head beat less and less violently, until only a dull, throbbing +pain was left. But after a while she stirred restlessly; then came a +sigh; then: “How much did you read of that thing?” + +“You disobedient baby!” said Carol. “I thought you were sound asleep.” + +“I was, almost. But then I got thinking. I feel ever so much better now, +and I’d rather talk. Carol,—you’re _so_ dear and lovely to me!—I think +you’ll understand. I think if I just talk everything out first, then +maybe I’ll really go to sleep.” + +“Very well, if you don’t think it’ll hurt your head,” said Carol. +“That’s what I came up for, to talk it all out.” + +Jean found Carol’s hand and held it gratefully; but her mind was +troubled. “Tell me what you read,” she pleaded. + +“I will. But first I want you to understand that nobody had the least +idea of doing anything dishonorable. I didn’t mean the girls to read the +book at all. But like a goose I left it out on my chiffonnier, and Nan +got hold of it when I wasn’t noticing and the first thing I knew, there +she was, reading away! She’s very sorry now,—we all are,—so you’ll have +to forgive us all round. You would, I’m sure, if you’d heard us praising +you this evening. Promise me you’ll let me have a copy of those poems.” + +“I tore the old book up,” the poet confessed. + +“Jean! You Goth, Vandal, and Hun! How could you!” exclaimed Carol, +reproachfully. “Where are the pieces? In the scrap-basket?” + +“Yes, but please don’t get them out! I don’t want ever to see that +miserable old stuff any more. Please, Carol!” And, as Carol rose, Jean +pulled her back. + +“No, dearie, I won’t tease you when you have a headache. Only it was +wicked of you,” said Carol. “Promise you won’t let the scraps be thrown +away till I’ve fished out what I want. I’m going to compile all the +lovely things you said about me, and send a copy to my family. Then +perhaps they’ll really begin to appreciate me at last! No, dear, I’m not +making fun of you,—indeed I’m not! Honest Injun! Now I’ll tell you what +I read. I read all there was of the novel—” + +“Oh, that idiotic old novel!” groaned Jean. + +“It’s a fine old novel, and you must finish it! I’m wild to find out if +I marry Arthur de Lancy! Oh, Jean! Now I know who’s been leaving me +presents of candy and flowers all winter! It was Arthur!” + +“Yes, it was Arthur,” said Jean laughing, and she hid her face in the +pillow. + +“You rogue!” cried Carol. “Please tell him the flowers were perfectly +lovely, and he always picked out my favorite kinds of candy. I read the +_odes_ to myself, too,” she went on, “and my head’s so turned I’ll never +get it straight again! And I read most of the poems; and, dearie, I +never heard anything so pathetic as some of them! Jean, dear, have you +really been so lonely and homesick all this time?” + +“Oh, I’m dreadfully homesick! You see I never was away from mother, even +for a night, till I came to school.” + +“You poor little thing; it must be fearfully hard for you! And coming +all the way from Brazil! It’s very different from being able to go home +every vacation like the rest of us! We ought to have a good shaking, +every one of us, for not joining together and petting you. But you +sha’n’t be lonely any more—no, you sha’n’t! Now, dear, tell me, for I’m +puzzled to death. How did you ever come to choose _me_, and talk as if I +really were your best friend, and write all those beautiful things to +me?” + +“I did want a friend so,” Jean answered. “I mean a real intimate friend. +Every girl in school has one except me, and it hurts so to be left out! +I don’t mean the girls aren’t friendly enough, but they all have their +own chums, and I don’t like to push myself in. I _can’t_ make friends +somehow! And so I thought if I couldn’t have a real friend, I could play +I had one, anyway. And I thought I’d rather have _you_ than any one else +in the world. You’re so beautiful, and—” + +“Jean! You have the _wildest_ imagination!” + +“But you _are_ beautiful; all the girls think so.” + +“They _don’t_.” + +“They _do_. And then you’re so—so sort of splendid, you know!” + +“Oh, mercy!” gasped Carol. “No, I _don’t_ know! I’m anything but +splendid!” + +“Well, you _are_ splendid. And I just imagined you were my best friend. +You know if you imagine hard enough, you can make anything seem true. +And,—please don’t think me a perfect goose,—sometimes I pretend we’re +having lovely times together. I can stop homesick fits that way.” + +“Jean, darling,” said Carol. “Why didn’t you come right to me? Then we +really would have had lovely times together. But how was I to know you +wanted me, when you never came near me?” + +“I didn’t think you’d want to bother with a little snip like me. You’re +so high up, you know!” + +“Please just where between heaven and earth do I hang?” Carol inquired. + +“Oh, well, you know what I mean. You’re president of the senior class, +and you’re so popular; everybody just adores you! Carol, do you think +I’m terribly crazy and queer?” + +“I think you’re a darling,” said Carol, and kissed her. “And I think we +were a set of horrid, old, blind bats not to see you needed looking +after! And I think I want to have you for my friend just as much as you +want me for yours, so we’ll turn the make-believe into real, won’t we? +Just you come right straight to _me_, whenever you want me. Will you, +dear?” + +For answer Jean raised herself in bed and flung her arms around Carol’s +neck. + +“The real _me_ isn’t half as nice as the make-believe,” said Carol, “but +I’ll do the best I can.” + +“You’re a million times nicer!” declared Jean. “But won’t you get tired +of me?” she added. “I’ll want to be coming to you all the time.” + +“Very well, come all the time,” said Carol. “Come and tell your ‘best +friend’ all your troubles, and I’ll pet you up. I think everybody needs +some one to tell troubles to.” + +“I’m sure _I_ do,” sighed Jean. “I always had mother at home; but +here,—why, I can’t even write them to her, because she’s such an invalid +now, and she’d worry. Oh, I’m so glad I can tell _you_! I have such +stacks of troubles, all the time! Something goes wrong about every day. +I have such a dreadful temper!” + +“Nobody else ever had one, you know!” remarked Carol. + +“Nobody ever had such a dreadful one. I get so furious, I don’t know +what I’m saying or doing,—as I did to-day!” + +“Shake hands, Jeanie, I’m a terrible pepper-pot, myself!” said Carol. + +“Carol! I don’t believe it! I _know_ you’re always perfectly lovely.” + +“‘Distance lends enchantment,’” quoted Carol. “Wait till you know me +better.” + +“Do you really mean you have a quick temper too?” asked Jean, delighted +to find this link between herself and Carol. + +“Indeed I have! Why, Fräulein Bunsen named me the ‘Storm Child,’ the +first year I came here.” + +“Storm Child?” exclaimed Jean. + +“Yes. I was only fourteen when I came, and I skylarked straight through +my first year. I used to get into tempers, too; and once there was a +blizzard raging out-of-doors, and little Carol Armstrong was raging away +indoors, and Fräulein Bunsen came out from her German class just then, +and she said: ‘You are like that tempest, liebchen! I shall call you the +_Sturm Kind_—the Storm Child.’ She said it in the cunningest way. But it +made me feel so ashamed of myself that I did try to hold my tongue after +that.” + +“I’m sure she doesn’t call you that now,” said Jean. + +“Oh, yes, she does! It’s her pet name for me. And I call her ‘Bunny.’ +Little Fräulein and I are regular chums.” + +“I think you’d better call _me_ Storm Child. It exactly suits me,” said +Jean. + +“I’ll name you ‘Storm Child the Second,’” replied Carol. “Now, Storm +Child the Second, next time you feel tempestuous, just come and pay +Storm Child the First a visit; because, you see, I know just how hard it +is to keep from blazing out.” + +“I will!” and Jean squeezed her friend’s hand tight. + +“Well, have we talked it all out, or are there any more troubles that +want to be told?” asked Carol, as Jean lay silent. + +“There’s a great big trouble.” + +“A great big trouble! Well, let’s hear it.” + +“Why, one reason I felt so terribly was because we were getting up an +order. I started it. It was the Order of the Silver Sword.” And won to +confidence Jean poured out the story of the band of battle maids who +were to conquer by love, and of her own miserable defeat. + +“Oh, just think of my talking so hard about Caritas, and then being so +bad and wicked the next minute! I’ll have to give it all up! I’ve ruined +everything,” she ended, with a choke in her voice. “I won’t dare to say +a word about the Silver Sword again, ever! They’ll think I didn’t mean +what I said! Oh, dear! I wish I needn’t ever see the girls again!” + +“Why, Battle Maid, are you going to cry ‘Quarter’ as easily as all +that?” said Carol, cheerily. “You’ve only been unhorsed in the first +fight, and that was always happening to the knights, wasn’t it? They +were unhorsed, and then they got up again and fought on foot, didn’t +they? That’s what you’ll have to do. Now, you’re up! Now go for the +enemy again with your silver sword. You’ll beat him next time!” + +“But they won’t want me in the order after the way I behaved,” said +Jean. + +“Won’t they? You ought to see how the girls are all up in arms for you! +I pity those poor Mice when they come out of their hole! Why, +everybody’s on your side!” + +“I thought I’d spoiled the whole order,” said Jean with a sigh of +relief. + +“No, indeed, you haven’t. And Jean, dear, I’m just as sure as sure can +be that you’ll conquer in the end, with Caritas for your sword.” + +“Do you really think so?” asked Jean wistfully. + +“I _know_ you will. And I know your order is going to do ever so much +good in the school. It’s a splendid idea of yours: the sword of love and +the shield of truth! They’re just the things that are needed, I’m sure. +And I’m sure a girl like you, who can think of an order like the Silver +Sword, can be a fine influence in her class. You don’t know how much +good you can do, Jean!” + +“Carol! not really! Do you think there’s a _chance_?” + +“Indeed you can,” said the president of the seniors. “You have no idea +what an influence one single girl can have if she stands up steadily for +what’s right.” + +A step sounded in the hall just then. The door opened,—and there stood +Miss Carlton herself. + +“Jean, my little girl!” she said softly. “Why, Carol—are _you_ here!” as +Carol turned on the light. + +“Miss Carlton, Jean’s sick with a bad headache,” Carol explained. + +“My poor child! It often ends so, doesn’t it?” said Miss Carlton. She +bent down and kissed Jean, then took Carol’s place by the bedside. + +“I’m sorry I broke the rules,” said Jean. “I lost my head when I found +we were locked in.” + +“I’m sorry you could not control yourself better, dear,” said Miss +Carlton. “If you had waited quietly as Cecily did, this trouble would +not have come. Now tell me exactly how it all happened.” + +Jean began to explain, but her vague remarks about looking for something +in Frances’ and Adela’s room, and her hesitation and distress made Miss +Carlton turn to Carol and ask her if she could finish the story. Carol +could and did, with no qualms of conscience about bringing the Mice to +justice. + +“My child, you have had a hard trial to-day,” said Miss Carlton, when +she had heard it all. “Frances and Adela have done a very wrong and +dishonorable thing, and one which they will be heartily sorry for. And +when they come to make their peace with you, as they will have to do, +you must meet them more than halfway, as we say, and treat them like the +warmhearted, generous girl that you are.” + +“I told them I’d never forgive them,” whispered Jean, penitently. “I was +so angry!” + +“Ah, little girl,” said Miss Carlton, “we can never unsay the things our +bad tempers make us say. But cheer up, now, for I am trying to help you +fight your battle, and I fancy Carol is too.” Bending over the tired +girl for a good-night kiss, she added: “And wait till the house is on +fire before you let your nervous fears send you on the roof again. Poor +Miss Sargent is trembling still, I’m afraid.” + +“I _am_ going to be good, now; I _will_ be good,” answered Jean softly, +with a grateful kiss in return. + +While Jean rested contentedly on her pillow, Carol followed Miss Carlton +into the hall. + +“Miss Carlton, I ought to confess,” said she with more glee than +repentance in her face, “I’m here without permission.” + +“I thought so, Carol,” replied Miss Carlton. “But I understand. I know +your loving heart could not resist going to comfort that poor little +lonely girl. Carol, you have won Jean’s admiration and love, and I +believe you can help her a great deal in the battle she has to fight. +Will you take her for your little sister for the rest of the year?” + + + + + CHAPTER V. + THE QUEEN OF THE SILVER SWORD + + +Jean awoke on Sunday morning conscious that she was making a fresh start +in her life at Hazelhurst with the real Carol Armstrong for her friend. +She found Carol waiting for her as the girls were going to breakfast, +and they entered the dining-room with their arms around each other. +Breakfast over, the Mice made for their hole with speed. They had seen +Miss Carlton’s eye turn ominously in their direction. + +The Orioles drew Jean into their nest. “Joan of Arc,” said Cecily, “what +do you think we girls did last night? We held a meeting and elected +officers for the Silver Sword! And Betty’s to be Princess of the +Treasure, and I’m Princess of the Scroll, and _you_’re the Queen!” + +“Me!” exclaimed Jean, astonished quite out of good English. + +“Yes, you! You’ve been unanimously elected.” + +“But I’m not good enough! I behaved so dreadfully!” stammered Jean. “I +shouldn’t think you’d want me to belong to the order at all! _You_ ought +to be the Queen, Cecily; you’re so sweet and good all the time! You’d +make a splendid one.” + +“I wouldn’t at all, and I’m not sweet and good a bit!” declared St. +Cecilia. “You’re the Queen and you can’t help yourself!” + +“You’ll make the best queen of all, Jean. You know how to plan things so +beautifully. If we don’t have you, we won’t have anybody! We’ll give up +the order! There now!” This was Betty’s ultimatum. + +Jean looked at her friends as if she could not believe that it was +true,—this honor after her wrathful outburst. Then she dropped her eyes +to hide a gathering mist, and while she stood silent, with bent head, +she took a strong resolve to prove herself worthy of her crown. + +In the afternoon, as Jean was sitting at her desk writing her “home +letter,” Frances and Adela came to her, fresh from a penitential half +hour in Miss Carlton’s study. Adela drummed on the desk, her cheeks +crimson. Frances took up Jean’s pencils and examined them one after +another as if she found them very interesting. It was Jean who spoke +first. + +“Girls, I said hateful things to you, yesterday—I was so angry! I’m +very, very sorry. Won’t you please forgive me?” + +“Good gracious! You’re the one to do the forgiving!” burst out Frances. +“It was perfectly horrid of us to go and take your book! I’m terribly +sorry! Won’t you please forgive _me_?” + +“Of course I will!” Jean raised her face as Frances bent over her, and +they marked the victory of Caritas with a kiss of peace. + +“I’m sorry, too, Jean! I didn’t think you’d mind so. And I wouldn’t have +locked you in, only you seared me to death. Will you forgive me too?” +asked Adela. + +“Of course!” answered Jean. She took Adela’s hand, gave it a hearty +squeeze, and held it fast. + +As they were going away Frances dropped a kiss on the back of Jean’s +neck, and Adela said thoughtfully, “You’ll make a fine queen!” + +The initiation ceremony of the order took place on the following +Saturday evening. The maids of honor trooped into the studio to find a +royal trio awaiting them. There, in an armchair for a throne, sat their +sovereign, in her hand a real sword, a revolutionary heirloom lent by +Miss Carlton. The princesses of the Scroll and the Treasure stood beside +her, Cecily holding a roll of paper and Betty a white silk bag tied with +yellow ribbon, as their symbols of office. + +The queen rose and welcomed her maidens in a little speech, carefully +prepared. Then she called the two princesses to receive the accolade. +They knelt before her, and Jean struck Cecily lightly on the shoulder +with the blade that had been drawn for liberty, saying, “I dub thee +battle maid of the Order of the Silver Sword. Be always faithful to the +sword of love and the shield of truth!” Then she pinned on Cecily’s +breast a badge painted by the princess of the Scroll herself,—the sword +of silver on the shield of gold. “Rise, battle maid!” she said, and +Cecily arose, the first warrior maiden of the order. The princess of the +Treasure was next given the accolade, then each maid of honor in turn, +and last of all the queen herself received it, the two princesses, one +after the other, touching her shoulder with the sword. + +When every girl in the room had become a battle maid, with the gold and +silver badge on her breast, Cecily opened her scroll and read aloud the +laws of the order; and the initiation over, Jean said, “Princesses and +maids of honor, welcome to our royal banquet!” + +Betty and Cecily removed a screen and displayed the painting-table +festooned with smilax, upon it a feast of cake and lemonade. The banquet +was beginning when there was a knock at the door, and Frances ran to +open it. “Ice cream!” she cried, and in came Carol and Eunice, each +carrying a tray with saucers of ice cream in the form of fruits and +flowers. “An offering to the noble Order of the Silver Sword!” said +Carol. She and Eunice set down their contribution; then, curtseying low, +they retired amid cheers for the president of the seniors and her +room-mate. + +The order had an auspicious beginning, with such allies; and among the +battle maids there awoke that evening a spirit of firm loyalty to the +queen, to one another, and to the sword and shield. + + * * * * * + +Some good fighting was done between the initiation night and +Commencement week. If a pupil or a teacher was ill “Caritas” was sure to +be drawn in her behalf, and she received a cheery present of flowers +“with best wishes from the Silver Sword.” And from the founding of the +order Miss Carlton dated a marked improvement in the standing of Jean’s +class. To be sure Adela’s Latin exercises were faultier than they had +sometimes been, but they were at least the work of her own brains. + +No one fought more valiantly than Jean herself, for when she least +expected him that fiery old enemy of hers was certain to challenge her +to combat. Sometimes the sword was not drawn in time; but whenever she +was overthrown, there, ready to help her to her feet again, was Carol, +who had been through many a hard battle and knew just how to encourage +the disheartened queen. And little by little the enemy was mastered; +more and more easily he yielded; less and less often the battle maid had +to own defeat; and another and another victory was gained. + +The Easter vacation was a season of sunshine, when Jean was so happy +that it seemed as if the foe had declared a truce. Not the least of her +trials was her great-aunt, Mrs. Pyncheon, with whom her holidays were to +be passed. The Christmas at Adamsville might as well have been spent in +a grave-yard, she declared. But Carol saved her from a gloomy +Easter-tide by taking her off to New York to spend the vacation in the +Armstrongs’ home. Jean never forgot that delightful visit, and refreshed +by the glorious holiday she came back to school to work with new +enthusiasm for prizes at Commencement. + +The battle maids toiled hard for love of their Alma Mater, but still +they had time to give a play for the benefit of their society. Early in +May they acted a dramatization of “The Rose and the Ring.” Jean made a +captivating Prince Giglio in a white suit trimmed with cherry-color, a +mantle bordered with swan’s-down and a cap with a snowy ostrich plume. +Cecily was the Princess Rosalba; and whether in peasant dress, serving +as the housemaid Betsinda, or in her pink court robe with flowers in her +hair, standing in her true character as a maiden of royal blood, so +lovely was she that no magic rose or ring was needed to help her conquer +the hearts of the spectators. Betty, in her great-grandmother’s blue +brocade, was the Princess Angelica, haughty and capricious; weighty +Blanche, in the role of Prince Bulbo, looked her part to perfection; and +Frances, who had insisted on being the severe Countess Gruffanuff, +brought down the house again and again. The play was pronounced by the +enthusiastic audience a brilliant success; Prince Giglio and the fair +Rosalba were acknowledged to be the brightest stars in the whole troupe; +and at the end of the evening the battle maids found themselves rich +enough to order the gold and silver badges which they had determined +should replace the paper ones. + +And now Commencement was less than a month away. One afternoon, as Carol +and Eunice were studying for their senior examinations, Jean came into +their room, bringing a bunch of wild violets for her “Big Sister,” as +she loved to call her friend. Carol stole a minute from the classics to +enjoy the bit of spring freshness, and Jean dropped down beside her on +the divan. + +“Carolie,” she said, “isn’t it just too bad! Cecily’s had the biggest +disappointment!” + +“What’s happened?” asked Carol. “I _thought_ she looked like a funeral +to-day.” + +“Why, she can’t go to Halcyon Lake this summer. They have to rent their +camp. She’s just had a letter from her mother.” + +“Where’s Halcyon Lake? I never heard of it,” said Carol. + +“It’s in the Adirondacks,” answered Jean. “It’s way back in the woods. +They have the loveliest camp there, right on the edge of the lake! They +sleep in tents! It used to be a boys’ camp. Her father was a minister, +you know, and he used to take up youngsters from Philadelphia. And since +he died Cece and her mother have gone up just by themselves; but now +some people want the camp for the summer, and her mother says she’s got +to let them have it, because she needs the money so much.” + +“Why, I didn’t know the Brooks were poor!” exclaimed Carol. + +“Yes, they are. And Cecily says Miss Carlton’s educating her for +nothing, because she was her mother’s best friend. Oh, dear! I think +it’s a real shame they have to rent their camp! An uncle of hers has a +little camp there too, and she has such fun with her cousins! They canoe +all day, and have picnics and camp-fires and everything!” + +“I’d like to go there, myself, for the canoeing,” interrupted Carol. “I +have the dearest little canoe! Poor little St. Cecilia! I don’t wonder +she looked ultramarine! It’s too bad she can’t go! Camping out’s the +only proper way to spend a summer, _I_ think.” + +Her eyes wandered to the stretch of sunny landscape that could be seen +from her open window. Suddenly she whistled; then she sprang up and +clapped her hands. “Queenie, I’ve hit it!” she cried. “My mighty brain +has evolved a scheme. The fortunes of the Brooks are made forever! We’ll +have a _girls’_ camp!” + +“Carolie, what do you mean?” Jean was on her feet too, all excitement. + +“A girls’ camp it is!” said Carol, “Una, wake up! You’ll get blind if +you fuss over that Greek any longer! The cream of Hazelhurst Hall +is going to camp out all summer at Halcyon Lake,—sleep in +tents,—fish,—hunt,—canoe!” + +“What _are_ you rattling on about?” asked Eunice, looking vaguely up +from her Greek. + +“Una, put down that book this instant!” Carol commanded. “Do you hear +me? Obey your president! I’m not going to let you study any more; you’ll +be valedictorian anyway, so what’s the use of working yourself into +nervous prostration! Now listen,—don’t put on that patient expression!” + +“Go ahead! Chatter away! You won’t keep still till you’ve said your say +out, I suppose,” Eunice answered resignedly. + +Carol repeated the story of Cecily’s disappointment. “Now,” said she, +“Mrs. Brook has to rent her camp because she needs the money. Well, if +she gets the money and stays there too, so much the better. Now it’s all +settled! The whole senior class and all the other _nice_ girls are going +to board at her camp all summer. Let’s telegraph to her; ‘Don’t rent. +Your fortune’s made!’” + +“Oh, Carolie, how perfectly glorious!” screamed Jean, with a jump of +delight. + +“Well, you certainly are an inventive genius!” said Eunice. “I suppose +there’s not the slightest chance our families will want us to be with +them this summer!” + +“Our families will be only too glad to be rid of us,” replied Carol. +“Now, don’t talk about visiting your married sister, Una. If she knows +you as well as I do, she won’t want you. You’re not to be trusted with +your baby niece. You’d carry the poor darling around as if she were a +dictionary, and absent-mindedly stuff her into a bookshelf.” + +Eunice laughed. “I think it’s a perfectly ideal plan,” she said. “But +I’m afraid we couldn’t collect enough girls.” + +“We can, we must, we shall, we _will_ collect them!” declared Carol. +“We’ll boom ‘Camp St. Cecilia-by-the-Lake’ so hard we’ll fill it in less +than no time. There won’t even be standing room left! You’re coming, you +know, Jeanie.” + +“Oh, oh! I’d love to go!” cried Jean. “Then I’d be with _you_, all +summer! If only I can get off from visiting Aunt Lucretia!” + +“She’ll _have_ to let you off,” said Carol. “I’m going to steal you for +the summer, wherever I am. But we’ll get to camp. We’ll have shoals of +girls,—don’t you worry!” + +“I wonder how many we could get together,” said Eunice. + +“Well, there’s Marion,” said Carol. “She’d love to go! It would be such +a chance for her to sketch. And there are Nan and the wild, woolly +Westover—we can count on them, they’re so daft about fishing. That’s six +already. Let’s call a class meeting this evening, Una, and start the +Halcyon Lake boom.” + +The camping project was advertised with signal success. Miss Carlton, +herself, favored the plan, and she as well as radiant Cecily wrote to +Mrs. Brook, whose answer was an offer to take as many girls as the tents +would hold, and the assurance that she would give up all thought of +renting her camp. If parental consent could have been gained by all the +damsels who had caught the camping fever, Mrs. Brook would have found +nearly the whole school begging for accommodation, but many were doomed +to disappointment. At last, however, seventeen girls were enrolled, with +Miss Hamersley, the teacher of athletics, and Fräulein Bunsen, as the +chaperones of the party. There were Carol and Eunice and four more +seniors, six juniors, and four “sophs.” Last on the list came Betty +Randolph, she and Cecily being the only members of the order as yet +represented. Jean still waited to know her destiny. She had sent an +eloquent appeal to her mother and father imploring them to allow her to +go to camp, but the letter had to travel all the way to Brazil, and +while in a fever of impatience she watched for the answer to come, she +was haunted with the dread of spending the summer with Aunt Lucretia +Pyncheon. + +Commencement Day arrived, bringing diplomas and prizes. The battle maids +reaped a rich harvest after their months of hard fighting, and wore for +the first time their new badges, tiny gold and silver clasp-pins, in the +form of shields crossed by swords and bearing the motto “Caritas et +Veritas.” On that day of triumph Jean won both the English and the Latin +prizes, but there was a cloud upon her happiness, for still no word had +come from Brazil. + +The play of Romeo and Juliet, given by the older girls, brought the +Commencement festivities to a close. Eunice was the golden-haired Juliet +of the evening, and Carol, in cloak and tunic of deep red velvet, was +the dashing Romeo. The play over, the actors reappeared on the stage to +bow to the audience and to receive their bouquets. Jean brought Romeo a +bunch of Jacqueminot roses as a love-token, and what was her +astonishment when he dropped on one knee before her, and, doffing his +plumed cap to the ground, presented his sword, on the point of which he +had just placed a bouquet of pink sweet peas and—a _cablegram_! The +message was from her father and said, “Jean may go to camp.” + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + CAMP HUAIRARWEE + + +Early one bright, fresh morning, a fortnight after Commencement, the +Albany station was invaded by a troop of girls, laden with a variety of +outing gear. Nancy Newcomb and Helen Westover, who headed the band, +carried bundles of fishing rods. Marion Gaylord was armed with a +canoe-paddle, and Eunice had a field-glass slung over her shoulder. Hope +Lamont, Ruth Whitney, Dorothy Stone and Olive Spencer carried kodaks. +Gladys Pearson, Winifred Russell and Ethel Merryman had caddy bags. +Katrina Van Horn and Louise Phillips each had a guide-basket, and Grace +Gardner, Pamela Kirkland, Betty and Jean swung tennis rackets. As for +Carol, she had evidently taken up the professions of troubadour and +musketeer, for in one hand she bore a mandolin case and in the other a +rifle. She seemed to be acting as body-guard to little Fräulein Bunsen, +who, with Miss Hamersley, had brought the merry maidens by the night +boat from New York. + +Five minutes later another traveler entered the station, a little gipsy +in a jaunty suit, followed by a dignified looking gentleman, no doubt +her father. + +“Frisky!” “Frances!” Betty and Jean rushed to meet the newcomer. + +“Ach, but we shall have a summer of pranks, if the little Mouse is to go +to camp!” exclaimed Fräulein Bunsen in some dismay. + +“Shall I fire?” Carol demanded. “We’d better nip her pranks in the bud.” + +Frances dashed straight for the girls and proclaimed triumphantly, “I’m +going to camp! It’s because of the whooping-cough!” + +“Good gracious, child! Go away from _me_, then!” cried Nancy, and there +was a general backing away from the Mouse. + +“Oh. I’m not catching!” said Frances. “I was away visiting when my small +brother came down with it, and I can’t go home for fear I’ll get it. So +Daddy telegraphed to Mrs. Brook, and I’m going with you! Isn’t it too +jolly! My! but I had to scramble to get off! Dick only began to whoop +day before yesterday. Wasn’t he a lamb to catch it? Oh, isn’t it +splendid I can go!” + +“Perfectly fine, Mousie!” said Jean. “It’ll be stacks of fun to have +you! Now there’ll be four of us battle maids together all summer.” + +A few minutes more and they were all in the parlor-car, rolling out of +the station on their way to the Adirondacks. They left the train in the +cool of the afternoon, and the mountain-wagons sent to meet them carried +them miles away from the railroad to the shores of Halcyon. It was in +the rosy light of sunset that they had their first glimpse of the +beautiful lake, with its fringe of woods and its encircling hills. But +it was only a glimpse, for the next moment they turned into the darkness +of the forest road again. + +“Carolie!” + +“Madam!” + +“I’m thinking up a poem about the lake,” said Jean, “and I want to know +if it sounds right.” And she recited softly to her confidant: + + Light-winged clouds in the blue arch o’er us, + Mirrored in sapphire depths below; + Yonder forest-crowned isle before us,— + Merrily over the lake we go! + +“That’s a darling verse,” said Carol. “I thought genius must be burning, +you kept so quiet.” Encouraged by this, Jean went on: + + A fire-opal, the lake at sundown, + Wrapped round by velvety sable firs. + Fleet-footed fawns the hillsides run down, + To drink of the water that no wave stirs. + +“Magnificent, Jean! But why don’t you make it gray squirrel?” + +“Gray squirrel?” Jean repeated, wonderingly. + +“Yes, you dressed your lake up in sable fur, didn’t you? And I thought +gray squirrel wouldn’t be so extravagant.” + +“Carolie! how hateful of you! Oh, pshaw! it _does_ sound as if my lake +had a muff and a boa! I’ll have to fix it. You don’t mind ‘_run down_,’ +do you? I do. I hate it, but I had to get something to rhyme with +_sundown_.” + +“Oh, I like ‘_run down_,’” said Carol. “It shows the fawns were +athletic.” + +“You needn’t make fun of it! It’s terrific, trying to make poetry when +you’re going jigglety-bounce every minute,” said Jean. “Wait a minute! +Let me think.” A pause, and then, “How’s this?” she asked: + + “A fire-opal the lake is gleaming, + Lit with flame from the golden skies. + It burns while nature is hushed and dreaming, + This gem that deep in the forest lies.” + +Carol considered that this might be handed down in American literature, +but before Jean could introduce the fawns gracefully there came a +surprise that sent rhyming out of her head. + +Suddenly a light shone out in the gloom; a sharp bark was heard, and a +large dog bounded into the road and rushed almost under the wheels of +the first wagon. + +“Rod! Rod! come here!” called a familiar voice, and the leading +carriage-load saw standing at the side of the way a girl in white +holding a lantern. + +“Cecily! Cecily!” chorused six glad voices. There was a medley of happy +greetings, and before the horses could stop Jean had made a daring +spring from one side and Frances from the other. The next minute Betty, +Carol, Eunice and Nancy were with them; Cecily was flying from one to +another, and the whole seven were laughing and talking at once. + +“Roderick Dhu and I have been waiting perfect ages! I thought you’d +never come! Oh, it’s so lovely to have you here!” cried Cecily. + +“It’s so lovely to _be_ here!” returned Jean. “You darling, beautiful +old doggy! Stay still and let me pet you!” And she went down on her +knees to fondle the shaggy collie. + +“Now I’m going to take you up through the labyrinth,” said Cecily, when +the other divisions of the party had joined them, and she had welcomed +every one. “The carriages have to go way around and you’d be joggled all +to pieces. Roderick, old boy! lead the way!” + +“What’s the labyrinth?” asked Jean. + +“It’s the foot-path up to camp. We call it that because the trail winds +and winds all sorts of ways and tangles you all up,” Cecily explained. +She parted the overhanging boughs by the wayside, and disclosed a path +leading, so it seemed, into the very heart of the forest. + +“Oh, how good the woods smell! Isn’t it delicious!” The girls sniffed +and drew deep breaths as they set out on the trail. + +“It’s just like going through a tunnel! I love the labyrinth!” said +Jean, delighted with the winding, perplexing path. + +“But where _is_ the lake?” asked Betty. + +“And where’s the camp?” asked Frances. + +“Just a little way ahead,” said Cecily, flitting on like a +will-o’-the-wisp with her lantern, “but if I ran away from you, you +wouldn’t find your way if you tried all night.” + +“Where _are_ we? Where _are_ we?” cried girl after girl. + +“Where _are_ we?” mimicked Cecily. “That’s what everybody always says. +We’ll come out on Camp Hide-and-Seek in just a minute.” + +“Is that its name?” asked Betty. + +“I call it that,” said Cecily. “It’s real name is not a bit appropriate +now,—‘Black Bear Camp!’ The boys we had here named it that because once +a bear really did come into our woods, but we’ve never seen one from +that day to this. I wish somebody would think up a new name.” + +“Call it ‘Camp Where-are-we,’ if that’s what everybody says,” Carol +suggested. + +“That’s just the thing!” cried Cecily. + +“And spell it some crazy way,” proposed Jean. + +The new name met with general approbation, and by the time that it had +been decided to spell it “Huairarwee,” the trail ended. The girls +stepped out of the thick woods and found themselves in a grove of +birches on a little bluff above the lake. A camp-fire was blazing on a +great rock and in its light they saw a line of white tents, a bungalow +built of logs, and, below, a rustic boat-house and a dock. + +“Mother! Mo-ther! Here we are!” sang Cecily. + +“Welcome to camp!” answered a clear, sweet voice, and Mrs. Brook came +out of the bungalow and gave the girls a motherly greeting. + +“Come and have a peep at the tents,” said she, “and then we’ll have +supper. It’s just ready.” + +“Isn’t it fun!” said Cecily. “We’re to sleep three or four in a tent!” + +There were eight tents, built on platforms well raised above the ground, +and connected by a narrow veranda. The furniture consisted of cots and +camp-stools, and chintz-covered boxes for wash-stands and +dressing-tables. + +“Cecily has planned out just how you girls are to sleep,” said Mrs. +Brook. “She says Miss Armstrong and Miss Stanley and Miss Newcomb are +inseparable friends, so we’ll put them together in this first tent.” + +“Jolly!” said Carol. “But please, Mrs. Brook, don’t ‘_Miss_’ us,—except +when we’re away.” + +“No, please call us by our first names. We want to be your summer +daughters,” said Eunice. + +“And so you shall be,—all of you,” answered Mrs. Brook heartily. + +She had not forgotten her own girlhood, and was ready with quick +sympathy to win the love and confidence of her young guests. + +“I’ll let you call her Motherling,” said Cecily. “It’s my pet name for +her.” And Mrs. Brook was adopted as mother by the whole camp. + +“Now for the four maids of the ‘Silver Sword,’” said she, when Carol, +Eunice, and Nancy had taken possession of their tent. “I’m going to put +you next door.” She led the way to the second tent in which were four +cozy cots. + +Hardly had the travelers been installed in their tents when a horn +sounded, calling them to supper in the bungalow. Japanese lanterns, +hanging from the stag’s head over the door, shed a soft light over the +bungalow veranda, and a brighter glow welcomed the girls as they entered +the “living-room” where a magnificent fire of spruce-logs leaped up the +rough brick chimney. They found themselves in what might have been the +interior of a hunter’s lodge. Antlers and deers’ heads adorned the walls +here and there, fox skins and a bearskin lay on the floor, and in one +corner a stuffed raccoon glared at the company with his yellow glass +eyes. Weather-stained fence-boards, beautiful with silvery lichen, +formed the mantel-shelves, which were decorated with bright-colored +fungi and balloon-like hornets’ nests, a stuffed blue heron, with wings +outspread, presiding over the whole. The living-room was parlor and +dining-room combined, and there stood the table decked with ferns, and +beside it a pretty, dark-eyed French-Canadian waitress smiling +hospitably on the guests. + +Nothing had ever tasted so good as that delicious supper of broiled +chicken, waffles, crisp lettuce, and strawberries and cream; and it was +followed by an enchanting twilight hour down by the water’s edge. The +girls gathered around “Camp-fire Rock” and fed their cheery blaze with +logs, a cloud of golden sparks shooting up whenever they threw on more +fuel. The lake grew black; the stars came out to laugh with the laughing +group below; the weird cry of a hoot-owl kept piercing the evening hush. +A sense of possession thrilled the girls. This camp was theirs, the lake +was theirs, those dark, mysterious woods were theirs; they were far away +from the outer world, hidden in their own forest fairy-land. + +Drowsiness came at length, and drove the campers back to their tents, +and the last murmurs of conversation and the last sparks of the fire on +the rock died out at about the same time. + +“Isn’t it too perfect for anything to sleep in a tent, just like +soldiers!” said Jean from her cot. + +“It’s just the thing for battle maids!” said Cecily. “Oh, dear! +Mammykins said we mustn’t stay awake talking!” + +“All right, good-night!” cried sleepy Frances. “Larks to-morrow, girls!” + +“Good-night,” said Betty, yawning. “Oh, Cece, just tell me,—_Halcyon_’s +Indian, isn’t it?” + +“No, ma’am! It’s poetical for kingfisher. There are lots of kingfishers +here,” answered Cecily. + +“And ‘halcyon days’ means happy days, doesn’t it?” said Jean, “and this +is just the happiest, loveliest place in the world!” + +“It’s the right place to live,” said Cecily. “You’ll be as roly-poly as +Betty before you go home! But you’re looking perfectly fine, now! Do you +know you’re getting real pretty?” + +“Pretty!” Jean repeated in amazement. + +“Yes, indeed you are,” said the young artist. “You have such a dear +little color in your cheeks! It’s ever so becoming. That two weeks with +Carol did you ever so much good.” + +“I had such a splendid time! The Armstrongs are just too dear,—and +Carolie’s the dearest of all!” said Jean, whom her Big Sister had once +more rescued from a visit to Aunt Lucretia Pyncheon. Cecily’s compliment +put the climax to her felicity, and murmuring drowsily, “Oh, I’m so +happy!” Jean lay with the cool sweet air touching her forehead with a +good-night kiss. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + HOW THE QUEEN SAVED A HALCYON’S LIFE + + +A glorious mountain day, clear as crystal, breezy and cool, greeted the +girls as they stepped out of their tents next morning. After the merry +breakfast in the bungalow, Frances and Betty seized their rackets and +joined Pamela Kirkland and Grace Gardner in a game of tennis on the +court which Cecily said that her cousins, the Hamiltons, had laid out +for the campers. Most of the older girls turned to their unpacking as a +tiresome business to be rushed through as early as possible; but the +spell of the woods and water was on Carol and she sallied forth leaving +her trunk to be emptied at a more convenient season. She found Jean +sitting on the veranda with only Roderick Dhu for company: + +“What’s the matter, Jeanie?” she asked. “Have your friends forsaken +you?” + +“I’m waiting for Cece to get through helping her mother, but she’s so +busy I don’t believe she’ll be ready till dinner-time!” said Jean. “What +are you going to do, Carolie?” + +“I’m going to steal a canoe and explore the lake. I can’t stay on shore +a minute longer,” answered Carol. “I’ll take you aboard if you’ll +promise to obey the captain’s orders.” + +Jean was up in a flash. “Oh, Carolie, teach me to paddle!” she begged. +“I’m dying to learn!” + +“All right, but I’ll have to teach you to stay still in a canoe first, +Miss Perpetual Motion, and when you’ve learned _that_, I’ll teach you +the stroke.” + +They helped themselves to paddles from the boat-house. Carol chose a +gaily painted canoe and settled Jean in it luxuriously on the scarlet +cushions; then she took her place in the stern, and by her vigorous +strokes sent the little craft shooting away up the lake, over wavelets +that flashed with myriad suns and rocked them delightfully. Jean had +never been in a canoe before, and this swift gliding and gentle rocking +seemed the very poetry of motion. + +Camp Huairarwee stood in one of the loveliest spots on the whole lake, +for there the broad sheet of water bowed out into a great emerald bay +set in a border of white and golden birches, spicy balsams, and towering +pines. Passing out of this wide basin the explorers discovered miniature +capes and inviting little coves, and found fresh beauty at every turn. + + [Illustration: CAMP HUAIRARWEE.] + +“Let me paddle now!” Jean coaxed, when lying at ease in the canoe had +lost the charm of novelty. “I’ve learned to sit still, I’m sure.” + +“Yes, I think I could trust you to sit still even if a sea-serpent +bobbed up,” said Carol. “Wait, and I’ll paddle in toward shore; it’s too +rough out here.” They were abreast of a point of land and, as they left +it behind them, she swung the canoe around to enter the bay beyond. + +“Oh, look!” cried Jean. “There’s a boy standing up in a canoe! Won’t he +go over?” Just ahead of them they saw a boy standing in his canoe, +balancing himself easily in spite of the wind-whipped water. + +The lad looked about fifteen or sixteen. He was tall and slight, +fair-haired, but with arms as brown as an Indian’s. They passed his +canoe within a few paddles’ lengths, and the girls saw a well-bronzed +face, bright and frank and keen. + +Carol and Jean glided into the little bay. The boy sat down in his canoe +and let it drift. As they neared the beach, they saw a kingfisher rise +and fly chattering away. The lad saw it too. He picked up a rifle from +the bottom of his canoe and took aim. His action was quick, the +“halcyon’s” flight was quick, and Jean’s righteous indignation was +quick. + +“Don’t shoot that bird!” she screamed, and started as she screamed. Just +what else she did she could never afterward explain, but the next +instant she and Carol took an unpremeditated dive! Over went the canoe, +and into the cold water they plunged and made sudden acquaintance with +the bottom of the lake. Happily they were within their depth, and though +the water closed over their heads it was only for a moment. Carol +clutched Jean and tried to drag her up. Jean clutched Carol and in the +shock and fright pulled her under again. But they managed to struggle to +their feet, gasping, choking, coughing, spluttering. Their heads were +out of water, but Jean had to stand on tiptoe to keep her chin above the +surface. She could hardly have held herself up but for Carol’s arm +supporting her, and she clung to her friend’s neck, making it impossible +for her to move. But the boy who had started the mischief came to their +relief with lightning speed. + +“Catch hold!” he cried, bringing the bow of his canoe up to them. They +caught it and raised themselves. + +“Hold on tight!” he commanded, and Jean clung fast. + +Carol, now free, struck out for herself, and swam and waded ashore, and +the young rescuer paddled with all his strength, and brought Jean safely +to the strip of beach. He jumped out and stood watching the girls +anxiously as they wrung out their skirts and regained their breath. + +“Get our canoe—quick!” panted Carol. + +“That’s right! I’m an old duffer!” said the boy, recalled to his duty. +Satisfied that the shipwrecked mariners did not require artificial +respiration, he reembarked and brought back their canoe, with the +paddles and cushions which had gone floating up the lake. + +“I d-d-d-didn’t know the w-w-w-water was s-s-so cold!” said Jean through +chattering teeth. “H-h-how did it happen, anyway?” + +“You took a flying leap, you crazy! Whatever possessed you?” returned +Carol wrathfully. “A little farther out and we’d both have been drowned, +with you pulling me down!” + +“It was all _my_ fault,” said the boy penitently. “I’m awfully sorry!” + +“We’ll have to go right straight back or we’ll catch our deaths,” said +Carol, shivering. + +“You get into my canoe and let me paddle you back. We’ll tow yours,” the +lad proposed. + +“Oh, thank you ever so much!” replied Carol. “But it would be too bad to +trouble you. We can go back alone perfectly well. We’re at Mrs. Brook’s +camp. That isn’t far. You’re not Dr. Hamilton’s son, Mrs. Brook’s +nephew, are you?” + +“No, but I know the Hamiltons,” he answered, with a bright, winning +smile. “Look here! Let me take you there,—it’s just round that first +point, and Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Rose will give you some dry things. +Won’t you please? You’d better. That’s where I was just going, myself. +We’ll have the wind with us, and so you won’t get so chilled.” + +“Oh, thank you,—I believe that’s the best thing to do,” said Carol. +“They’ll think we’re mermaids gone insane, but I can’t help it! We’ll +freeze if we try to go all the way back!” + +“Oh, you mustn’t think of it! You’d be icicles by the time you got +back,” said the boy, and he tied the girls’ canoe to his. + +“Well, I don’t care! I’m glad I stopped you from shooting that poor +bird, even if I did upset the canoe!” cried Jean. + +“Why, I wasn’t really going to shoot,” he answered, with laughter in his +gray eyes. “My rifle wasn’t even loaded.” + +“_Wasn’t_ it?” gasped Jean, and felt desperately foolish. + +“There,—Queen of the Silver Sword!” laughed Carol. “You _have_ begun the +summer with a valorous deed!” + +“I was only fooling. I’m awfully sorry I scared you!” the owner of the +rifle apologized. Anxious to make amends, he helped the girls into his +canoe and paddled hastily farther up the lake toward the Hamiltons’ +camp. + +“We forgot all about thanking you for saving us,” said Carol. “But we +_do_ thank you ever and ever so much. I don’t know what we should have +done without you!” + +“You wouldn’t have capsized without me!” he replied with a chuckle. + +“Oh, yes, we would; she’d have jumped overboard for something else! +Wouldn’t you, Queenie?” said Carol. + +“But I don’t think I did anything,” poor Jean protested. “I just called +out, and the canoe went over.” And she did not know whether to enjoy the +thrill of adventure or be wretched with cold and mortification. + +“Oh, dear! My beautiful new hair-ribbons!” she wailed, as she pulled off +two dripping wet strings,—a few minutes before, broad satin bows. + +“Oh, my poor wig! it feels just like seaweed!” moaned Carol, wringing +out her sopping curly mop. + +“Oo-ooh! I’m so cold!” Jean complained. “Why are you so much colder when +you go in all dressed than when you’re in your bathing-suit?” + +“Maybe because it’s so unexpected,” replied Carol. + +“What do you suppose they’ll say when we get back?” asked Jean, with +countenance forlorn. + +“Oh, Jean, let’s not borrow trouble!” sighed Carol. But their thoughts +were soon diverted from the melancholy future. + +Passing the next point, they saw on a breezy elevation—a tent with a +flag flying above it, and a bungalow. “There’s the Hamiltons’ camp,” +said the boy. “They call it Camp Hurricane.” + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + DOUGLAS GORDON + + +Carol and Jean almost forgot their drenched plight in the interest of +seeing Camp Hurricane, as the boy who had rescued them headed the canoe +for the Hamiltons’ landing. Kneeling on the dock was a lad, whom they +guessed to be Jack Hamilton, busy giving an overturned skiff a fresh +coat of blue paint. Jack’s father, they knew, was a clergyman; and high +up the slope, above a dot of a bungalow, they saw the tiny chapel where +Cecily had told them that her uncle held service during the summer. In +contrast to the chapel the white tent near by, with “Old Glory” flying +over it, lent a military air to the place, and it looked as if a cavalry +manoeuver were going on in the clearing fenced off from the rest of the +grounds. Trotting briskly down the enclosure came a fine black horse, a +tall young fellow holding his halter and running beside the spirited +creature. + +“Oh, what a beauty!” exclaimed Jean. Then she gave a cry of delight, +for, grasping the horse’s mane, the athletic six-footer had vaulted +lightly onto his back. + +“He must belong to a cavalry troop—or a circus!” cried Carol. + +“You’d think so, to see him!” said their new friend. “There isn’t +anything he can’t do with horses! He broke Cyclone, himself. That’s +Court,” he added. “He’s the older son. He’s a senior at Yale.” Then he +called to the boat-painter, “Hello, Jack!” + +The boy turned, saw the canoe-load, and sprang to his feet. “Hello, +Douglas!” he called back. + +“Say, Jack, these young ladies have been capsized, and they’ve got to +get some dry things. Can your mother help them out?” + +“Surely! Come right up,” said Jack cordially. He was a sturdy fellow +about fifteen, with a pleasant, sunburned face. + +“We’re from Mrs. Brook’s camp, and we’ve had the most ridiculous upset,” +laughed Carol, as the canoe touched the dock. “But we hate to trouble +Mrs. Hamilton. If she could let us have some wraps—we’re slightly cool!” + +“Oh, Mother’ll fix you up—she loves to take care of people!” Jack hauled +in the canoe. “Say, Court!” he shouted, “here’s a ducking accident!” + +His brother, now riding Black Cyclone bareback, had caught a glimpse of +the visitors, and had already slackened his pace. At Jack’s call he +dismounted, knotted the halter-rope around the horse’s neck, turned him +loose, and jumped the fence. Without stopping, he snatched up his coat +which lay on the grass, and came down to the dock at a double quick, +slipping on the coat as he ran, preceded by a rough Irish terrier and an +extremely loose-jointed and clumsy St. Bernard puppy, both dogs barking +a turbulent welcome. He collared the obstreperous puppy, as he joined +the girls, while Jack arrested the terrier. + +“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Have you had a spill?” + +“I should think we had!” said Carol. “But we’ve been heroically rescued +and our rescuer insisted on bringing us in here.” + +“He brought you to the right port,” said Court heartily. “I’m sorry +you’ve had an upset, but I’m glad you came straight to us. Come up to +the bungalow. Are you staying with the Brooks?” + +“Yes, we are,” answered Carol, “and so, as we’ve succeeded in almost +drowning ourselves by way of celebrating our first day here, we thought +the Hamiltons might take pity on us.” + +“The Hamiltons are delighted to. We’re a regular Red Cross hospital. Go +ahead, Jack, and tell Mother to get ready for us.” Jack ran on and his +brother escorted the girls up the long steep slope. + +“That darling horse,—just see him!” cried Jean. “He looks as if he +wanted to jump the fence and come to us.” + +“He tries to squeeze into the bungalow sometimes. He follows me around +like a dog,” said Court. “I must apologize for the hurricane-like way I +came down to you just now,” he added with a laugh. “I’m afraid you +thought there was a Wild West show going on up there.” + +“Oh, we enjoyed it immensely,” said Carol. “I never saw any one but a +cavalryman mount the way you did!” + +“I was just having a little fun with Cyclone,” said the young man +modestly. “I broke him last summer, and he’s having a post-graduate +course this year.” + +“Is he named Cyclone because he lives at Hurricane?” asked Jean. + +“Yes. We’ve had him since he was a colt,—he’s a three-year-old. He came +from a stock farm up here—the owner’s a grouchy old chap, but Father won +his heart going to see him when he had a close call from pneumonia once, +and he gave us one of his colts in return.” + +“He’s perfectly magnificent!” exclaimed Carol enthusiastically. “You’ll +have to introduce him to us before we go home. We love horses, don’t we, +Jean?” + +“Yes, indeed,—and dogs, too,” said Jean, who was petting the puppy and +the terrier by turns. “What are the dogs named?” + +“This one’s Blarney,” said Court. “He’s a paddy, and he knows how to +blarney, too, when he has a point to gain. And we call that fellow +Blunder, because he’s constantly mistaking our best shoes for +dog-biscuit.” + +They had nearly reached the bungalow; beyond it was the chapel, and they +saw a sunny-haired young girl mounted on a ladder, training honeysuckle +vines to clamber around its one stained-glass window. + +“There’s my sister Rose,” said Court. “Rose, come here!” + +Rose turned her head, and seeing visitors, descended nimbly and hurried +to meet them. “Why, what _has_ happened? You’ve been upset!” was her +greeting. “Come right indoors and get warm. I’m so glad we have a fire +going!” + +Just then a motherly-looking lady stepped out of the bungalow. “You poor +drowned children!” she exclaimed. “Come in and let me take care of you.” +She gave a hand to each bedraggled guest, and Carol and Jean found +themselves whisked into her bedroom. + +“It’s ever so good of you to take us in,” said Carol. “It’s perfectly +disgraceful,—two saturated solutions of us coming down on you like this! +Please don’t think it’s a sample of the way we’re going to behave this +summer!” + +“Oh, I know what girls are; they’re as hard to take care of as boys,” +said Mrs. Hamilton, laughing. + +Before long Rose had fitted both girls out with dresses of her own, and +the shipwrecked maidens were sipping hot lemonade and toasting +themselves before the blazing pine knots in the bungalow. + +When they came out again they found Court waiting to introduce them to +Cyclone. The black horse was really a splendid creature. He was full of +spirit and fire, but he condescended to show himself as gentle as a +zephyr to the two girls who stroked his velvet nose, and held his right +fore-hoof when at his master’s word he offered to “shake hands.” + +Next Dr. Hamilton came out of his chapel to greet the visitors. + +“I’m glad to welcome some of my sister’s guests so early,” said he. “You +had a narrow escape, didn’t you? but I’m glad to see you don’t look any +the worse for it. Come in and see my little church.” + +He led them into the tiny building, which might have been the chapel of +the hunter-hermit, Saint Hubert, himself. But in striking contrast to +the bare boards of the walls and floor was its beautiful stained-glass +window. It showed a young crusader with the red cross on his shield and +his sword unsheathed in his hand. He was gazing upward at a beam of +pearly light breaking through the clouds, and his face was bright with a +look of victory. The morning sun poured through the window, the pearly +beam was dazzling, the cross shone ruby red, and the sword gleamed with +an almost blinding light. + +“He’s finished his fighting, and has conquered, and now he’s going to +get his crown—I think he sees it in the heavenly light up there,” +thought Jean, and Dr. Hamilton noticed her earnest face. + +“That’s a memorial to Cecily’s father,” he said. “Cecily puts fresh +flowers in front of it every Sunday.” He told her a little about the +noble life of the man in whose memory the crusader shone there, and he +glanced from the sword in the window to the silver one on Jean’s badge. +“You and Cecily each wear a sword, too, don’t you?” said he. “The sword +Caritas on the shield Veritas. I’m sure _you_’re each going to fight a +good fight with that sword and shield, too, and win the victory just as +that young crusader has won.” + +Jean was too shy to do more than murmur a bashful, “I hope so,” but the +crusader with his shining sword had spoken his message, “Go forward,” +and the young queen turned away, carrying his memory in her heart. + +It was now high time for the runaways to go home, and they went down to +the dock where Douglas and Jack were waiting. Court claimed the +privilege of paddling both girls back to the camp, but he was obliged to +share the honor. + +“Douglas,” said Dr. Hamilton, “we’ll postpone your lessons and let you +take Miss Lennox home in your canoe.” + +“Thank you, Doctor,” said Douglas. + +“Aren’t you afraid I’ll upset you?” asked Jean. + +“No, because I sha’n’t scare you any more,” replied the boy. “I’m going +to leave my rifle here.” + +“Douglas wants me to keep it for him,” said Jack. “He says Tony Harrel +hooks it when he’s out of the way.” + +“Tony’s breaking the game laws, is he?” said his father. “He’ll get +himself into trouble. See that the law doesn’t get interested in _you_, +Jack!” + +“Your name’s Douglas, isn’t it? What’s your last name?” asked Jean shyly +as, the good-byes over, they glided away from the landing. + +“Gordon,” the boy answered. + +“Douglas Gordon! My, but that sounds Scotchy! Are you Scotch?” + +“Father was.” + +“My father’s Scotch too, and my name’s _very_ Scotch—Jean Lennox.” + +“That’s pretty,” said Douglas. “You’re from New York, aren’t you?” + +“No. Guess where my home is.” + +“Scotland?” Douglas suggested. + +“No.” + +“England? or Ireland?” + +“No, indeed! I’m American.” + +“Dawson City, Alaska?” + +“I should think not! You didn’t ask _which_ America I live in.” + +“Why, you don’t mean you’re from _South_ America?” + +“Yes, I do,” laughed Jean. “My home’s in Rio Janeiro, just now.” + +“Great Cæsar! Brazil!” Douglas looked at her with reverence. + +“But I had to come back to the United States to boarding-school,” Jean +explained. “Where do you live?” + +“Over here, this summer. I used to live at Algonquin, about twenty miles +from here. I’ve lived up in the Adirondacks since I was a little chap.” + +“How old are you now?” + +“Fifteen. How old are you?” + +“Fourteen. I’ll be fifteen next October. Father’ll be home in time for +my birthday. He’s coming to New York on business.” + +“I’ll be sixteen next Christmas,” said Douglas. + +“Does your birthday come on Christmas?” cried Jean. “What fun! You ought +to get double presents.” + +“My father died _last_ Christmas,” said Douglas quietly. + +“_Died_ on _Christmas_! Your _father_—and it was your birthday!” Jean’s +great blue eyes grew dark with distress, and the sympathy in her face +stirred the boy to confidence. + +“It was pneumonia,” he said. “He was taken sick while I was away at +boarding-school, and I couldn’t get home till just two days before he +died. And he didn’t know me—he was out of his head all the time. Only +Christmas Day he knew me just a few minutes, and then—he died. He bought +that rifle for me for Christmas,” he added. “He talked about it while he +was out of his head. Dad and I were great old chums!” + +Douglas plunged his paddle into the water and worked with all his +strength. Jean watched him sorrowfully, wishing she knew what to say to +comfort him, and wondered if he were an only child like herself. + +“Have you any brothers and sisters?” she asked anxiously. + +“No—haven’t anybody.” + +“Oh, dear! You don’t mean your mother’s dead too?” + +“Yes, I can hardly remember her. She died before we left the city. +Father was a doctor and we used to live in New York, but he came down +with lung trouble and had to give up his practice there and come up to +the mountains.” + +“But you’re not all alone, are you?” asked Jean. “Haven’t you a +grandfather or an uncle—or anybody?” + +“No, I’m all alone in the world. I’m striking out for myself now. I had +to go to work after Father died—that’s why I’m over here. I thought I +could get some work at one of the camps. I did, too. I’ve been working +for the Clintons at Big Pine Camp, while their man was laid up. I want +to earn enough in the summers to pay my board through the winters, and +then I can go to High School in Albany.” + +“Oh, Douglas, I think that’s perfectly fine of you, to go to work like +that! You’re really seeking your fortune, aren’t you?” said Jean. + +“That’s about the size of it,” Douglas agreed. “After I’ve been through +High School, if I can scrape up the tin, I want to study engineering and +go out West as a mining engineer.” + +“Isn’t Dr. Hamilton giving you lessons?” asked Jean. “I heard him saying +something about it.” + +“Yes, I lost the whole of last term at school, and he’s coaching me so I +can make up what I’ve missed. Tell you what, he’s been good to me!” + +“And you’re working at a camp too,” said Jean. “My, but you must be +busy!” + +“Oh, I’ve lost my place at the Clintons’. Their man came back +yesterday.” + +“How mean of him! What are you going to do now?” + +“I don’t know yet. Dr. Hamilton spoke for me up at the Inn, but they +told me to-day they didn’t want me.” + +A bright, eager look come into Jean’s face. “Here’s a chance to use my +Silver Sword!” thought she. “I know!” she said. “Mrs. Brook says we have +to have a boatman for our camp. The man she engaged disappointed. I’m +going to ask her to engage _you_!” + +“Oh, thank you!” Douglas stopped paddling in his surprise. “That would +be fine! But I don’t believe she’ll take me. She’ll want a _man_.” + +“Oh, no, she won’t!” said Jean confidently. “It’s only to take us out on +the lake and look after the boats.” + +“Well, I ought to know something about boats,” said Douglas. “I was +brought up on a lake.” + +“Is that your canoe?” asked Jean. + +“It was till a few minutes ago. I brought it over from Algonquin to +sell, and I’ve just sold it to Court Hamilton. I’ll never sell my rifle +though!” + +“Douglas, who’s Tony Harrel, that Jack said kept hooking your rifle?” + +“He’s old George Harrel’s son. I’m boarding with them. Poor old Tony, +he’ll be quite cut up when he finds my rifle’s gone for keeps!” + +“I think it was horrid of him to take it,” said Jean. “Dr. Hamilton said +he was breaking the game laws. What did he mean?” + +“Killing game out of season. But please don’t say anything about it, +will you? I don’t want to get him into trouble.” + +“All right, I won’t,” Jean promised, and she had forgotten Tony Harrel +long before they reached the Huairarwee dock. + +The canoes having put into port, Douglas took his leave and paddled back +to his lessons. The girls and Court went up the bank together, and the +runaways found that the moment of confession could no longer be delayed, +for there were Mrs. Brook and Fräulein Bunsen on the tent veranda. + +“Here we are, Auntie! I’ve brought them back safe!” called out Court. + +“Why, girls! What does this mean? What _have_ you got on? And how in the +world have you and my nephew become acquainted already?” exclaimed Mrs. +Brook. + +“Meine kinder, at last you come back!” cried Fräulein. “I look for you +all over! De girls haff gone to valk, dey could not vait for you. Where +_haff_ you been?” + +“We’ve been to the bottom of the lake,” said Carol. “Bunnie, dearest, +don’t scold us! Cherish us. We might have been swept away from you +forever under those seething billows! Mrs. Brook, _will_ you forgive us +for playing hooky, and not send us back to-morrow? It was all my fault—I +led Jean into the scrape. I ought to have known better.” + +“No, it wasn’t her fault one bit,—it was mine! I upset the canoe,” Jean +interrupted, and together the delinquents recounted their adventures. + +The camp-mother laughed merrily, but she threatened to lay down +stringent rules on the subject of canoeing. + +“Oh, come now, Auntie!” Court put in coaxingly, “don’t make your camp +unpopular. Miss Armstrong’s equal to shooting rapids,—I know she is! If +you won’t enact any painful laws, I’ll lend you the canoe I’ve just +bought.” + +“Court Hamilton! what are you buying another canoe for?” cried Mrs. +Brook. + +“Oh, well, Douglas Gordon wanted to sell his, and I thought I’d like to +help him out.” + +“Court! Court!” said his aunt, laughing, “You’ll be bankrupt as usual +before the end of the summer.” + +“Don’t worry about me, Auntie,—the legacy’s sure,” said Court. + +“Whenever Court’s been seized with a fit of charitable mania and given +away everything he possesses, it always turns out that his great-aunt, +Miss Van Courtlandt, is about to make him her heir,” explained Mrs. +Brook. “She’s a very convenient excuse, Court, but you’d better be +careful how you talk about her. She’s a very old lady and she may die +suddenly and really leave you a legacy, and then think how +conscience-stricken you’ll feel!” + +“I’ll feel worse if she doesn’t leave me one,” replied Miss Van +Courtlandt’s saucy young namesake. + +Jean looked up at the frank, manly face and the merry blue eyes, and +felt that here was a kindred spirit. Now was a propitious time to plead +for her new friend. + +“Mrs. Brook, can’t you take Douglas Gordon for your boatman?” she +suddenly demanded. “He’s an orphan and his father died last Christmas, +and he hasn’t any home, and he has to earn money so he can go to school +and be an engineer and go out West, and he’s lost his place, and he +knows all about boats,—and _won’t_ you please take him?” + +“Poor boy!” said Mrs. Brook, “my brother has told me about him.” + +“Oh, Mrs. Brook, _couldn’t_ you take him?” pleaded Carol. “Mr. Hamilton +says he’s such a nice boy!” + +“I wish you _would_ take him, Auntie,” said Court. “I’m sure he’s all +right.” + +“My heart does go out to the poor boy,” said Mrs. Brook. “And I don’t +know of any one else to hire. But I should have to have a talk with your +father first.” + +It began to look as if Caritas would win. The walking-party soon +returned, and the other battle maids ardently took up the cause of +Douglas Gordon; and when Jack came in bringing the mail, he gave his +friend an enthusiastic recommendation. + +“Now, boys and girls,” said Mrs. Brook, before the brothers went home, +“I wish one thing to be understood. We are all one big family party +here. Girls, you are my summer daughters, and my nephews are running in +and out all the time on some errand or other, so you’ll see plenty of +them. I propose that you drop titles; I don’t wish to hear a ‘Mr.’ or a +‘Miss’ all summer. I hope you will take Cecily’s cousins for _your_ +cousins, as you have taken me for a ‘mother’.” + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + JASPER BROOK + + +The second day at Halcyon was celebrated by a picnic at Jasper Falls. +After breakfast the girls busied themselves in preparing their luncheon. +Jean came out of the kitchen with a small guide-basket on her back, a +frying-pan in one hand and an iron spoon in the other, followed by +Cecily with a fishing basket. + +“Jean Lennox, what on earth are you doing with that frying-pan?” called +Betty. + +“Ask Cece,” said Jean. + +“Don’t you wish you knew what I’ve got in here?” said Cecily, and when +Betty and Frances tried to peep through the opening in the cover Jean +whacked them with her spoon. + +“We’re going to have flapjacks!” guessed Betty. “Cecily has the flour +and Jean has the maple-syrup.” + +“Which she will proceed to spill down the waterfall, while composing an +ode to Jasper Brook,” added Carol. + +“There’s lettuce inside there; I saw it through the hole,” said Frances. +“We’re going to have lobster salad!” + +“You don’t catch lobsters in lakes, or fry salad, my dear,” returned +Cecily. “And you might as well stop guessing, for I won’t tell you a +thing about it.” + +“Oh! My rifle! I must have it to fire salutes from the top of the falls! +I’d better carry it loaded, in case we should meet a catamount,” said +Carol, mischievously, as she picked up her treasure under the very nose +of Fräulein Bunsen. + +“Nein, Carolchen! You leave dat gun at home,” said Fräulein with +decision. “Mrs. Brook, please lock up dat weapon where she cannot find +it. She vill kill us all and herself too!” Carol laughed and +good-naturedly laid down the alarming instrument of destruction. + +With Cecily and Roderick Dhu as guides the campers started on their walk +along the wooded edge of the lake. At every step there was something to +make lovers of nature look or listen with delight. Green velvet cushions +of moss and “hairy-caps” bordered the trail. Wild strawberries, nestling +among the cool leaves, kept the girls swooping down like birds of prey. +Tiny hats and umbrellas of fungus, red, yellow, creamy and brown, dotted +the way; and even every old decaying stump was in gala dress, decked +with scarlet-tipped Cladonia, or its sister with the fairy goblets. +Overhead the thrushes were in glorious voice, and the air was full of +sweet bird-calls. + +After skirting the lake for about a mile they came to a blazed +beech-tree with a sign saying, “To Jasper Falls.” The trail which ran +from the foot of the tree led deep into the woods away from the lake. +Following the little path they came to the most winsome and enchanting +brook that ever parched one’s throat by the mere sound of its rushing. +The girls filled the tin cups which hung from their belts and drank, or +lay on the margin and put their lips to the swift-flowing stream; and +the pure cold water would have been worth a journey through the desert +of Sahara, Eunice said. + +Jasper Brook had won its name from the polished rocks that glowed ruddy +and golden brown in its bed. Sometimes these formed a path of +stepping-stones, and sometimes they broke the stream into little rapids +that eddied and foamed and swirled. Sometimes they lay, smooth and +shining, at the bottom of a mirror-like pool, and sometimes they rose in +boulders over which the girls had to scramble as they made their way up +the brook. + +Beyond a bend the falls stood revealed in all their beauty. First and +lowest of all, a miniature Niagara, the color of jade where it slipped +smoothly over a great rock, and a cloud of sparkling foam where it +broke. Then, above, a ledge of the living rock, over which the brook +glided clear as glass. Higher yet, a cascade, hanging in a shimmering +silver veil over a cliff at the right—a Swiss Staubbach, as Fräulein +called it. This was Jasper Brook, as it descended over a natural +staircase of rock. With much scrambling and slipping and laughing the +trampers made the ascent along the very edge, and sometimes, indeed, in +the stream itself. + +“Isn’t it beautiful! I’d like to stand right under those darling falls +and let them come down on top of me!” cried Jean, climbing upon a rock +near the “Staubbach.” “Come up here where you can feel the spray! It’s +as good as a shower-bath!” From the ledge above, the cascade fell in a +shower of mist to the pool at her feet, the cool drops sprinkling her +face. The rest of the vanguard scrambled up beside her. + +“What are you tying a knot in your handkerchief for, Joan of Arc?” +Cecily asked presently. + +“‘Curiosity killed the cat,’” quoted Jean. + +“I know what it’s for,” said Carol. “That knot’s a reminder to write a +poem on the ‘Staubbach.’ I knew the Muse was awake when I asked Jean if +she wasn’t getting soaked in the spray, and she smiled seraphically and +dreamily answered, ‘Um!’ I haven’t had the honor of _two_ visits from a +poet without learning to read the signs. Excelsior! Let’s scramble on!” + +“Let’s name all the different falls and rocks and things we come to,” +Jean proposed. “Let’s name _this_, ‘Silver Sword Falls,’ and _that_ can +be ‘Golden Shield Pool.’ It’s quite a goldy color, and it’s shaped like +a shield.” + +“I think it’s shaped much more like a dishpan,” said practical Cecily. + +“Let’s name the places for ourselves,” Betty suggested, resuming the +march up the stony path. + +“All right! We’ll call this ‘Betty’s Toboggan Slide,’” replied Cecily. +For Betty suddenly slipped backward on the slippery incline. + +“This is ‘Carol Cascade,’” said Jean, as they stood on a flat rock +watching a wild little cataract foaming and boiling. + +“It _does_ look like her,” said Eunice. “That’s just the way she rushes +pell-mell into things. Those little curly rapids do for her hair—it’s +always in a wild fly.” + +“We’ll name that puddle ‘Una Pond.’ It’s so absent-minded, it’s +forgotten to move down the brook! It’s _you_ all over, Una,” returned +Carol. + +“What’s the use of lugging this basket myself when I can hitch it on +Roderick?” said Frances. Charmed with this idea she lashed her basket on +the chieftain’s back, at which act of oppression he showed his +resentment by worrying the strap until he had slipped his badge of +servitude off into a small whirlpool, and the Mouse returned from +crawling into a cave in time to see her pretty new basket spin round and +round and then sail down the waterfall. + +“Catch it! catch it! Frisky’s basket! It has _all_ our Saratoga +potatoes!” shrieked Betty to the girls below. But the runaway swept past +the hands that snatched for it till it reached a quiet pool, from which +Marion Gaylord rescued it. The basket was intact, but Frances mournfully +spread out upon a stone its once crisp contents, now water-soaked and +limp, and fit only to nourish the minnows that lived below the falls. + +“You’re a horrid old thing, Roderick Dhu!” said she, slapping the dog, +as he applied an interested nose to the ruined delicacy. “Go away! You +needn’t think _you’re_ going to have any, just because you’ve spoilt it +for _us_!” + +“Well, Frisk, it was your own fault!” said Cecily. “Rod isn’t used to +carrying baskets, are you, old petsy?” + +Adventures, mishaps and frolics all along the climb were commemorated in +the names chosen for boulders, pools and rapids. There was “Roderick’s +Roll,” where the collie charged a chipmunk up a land-slide in a bank and +tumbled down with an avalanche of earth and stones; then “St. Cecilia’s +Organ,” where the rocks looked like slender organ-pipes; and “Nancy’s +Nest,” a little shelf, cushioned with moss, where Nancy found violets +and harebells growing. By the time the top of the falls was reached all +the members of the party had had their names immortalized in woodland +monuments. + +A broad, flat ledge of stone at the head of Jasper Falls was selected +for the dining-table. + +“Come and see the boiling spring before we unpack our luncheon,” said +Cecily. + +“Boiling spring!” cried Pamela Kirkland. “Now, St. Cecilia, you haven’t +a _geyser_ here!” + +“Is it a hot spring, really?” asked Gladys Pearson. “Do let’s see it!” + +“Hot? It’s a _boiling_ spring!” Cecily declared. She led the way to a +little pool with a sandy bed, hidden away in the woods. A tiny jet of +water bubbled up through the sand, and she dipped in her cup and held it +out to Pamela with the warning, “Don’t burn your mouth!” Pamela blew to +cool the boiling draft and tasted it gingerly. + +“Why, it’s icy cold!” she exclaimed. “Cecily Brook,—the idea of your +telling such a whopper! Take off your shield of truth this instant!” + +“I told the truth,” St. Cecilia answered serenely. “It _is_ a boiling +spring. It _bubbles_! They always call bubbling springs _boiling_. Oh, +Pam! It was too funny to see you blow!” + +“I don’t care—they _do_ have hot springs,” said Pamela. + +“Never mind, Pamela. We’ll fool the others when they come up,” said +Gladys. + +Three of the girls had slung tin pails on their shoulders, and Helen +Westover had carried a bottle of lemon juice. The boiling spring was +colder than the brook, so here the pails were filled, and going back to +their rock-table the girls spread out their luncheon and brewed their +lemonade. + +Then Cecily opened her mysterious basket, and Jean recited in sepulchral +tones: + + “They are neither man nor woman, + They are neither beast nor human, + They are—” + +“Fish!” cried an enraptured chorus, as Cecily unrolled from the lettuce +leaf in which it had been swathed, a silvery little perch. + +“Court and Jack brought them before breakfast,” said Cecily, unpacking +the basketful of fish, each one enveloped in a fresh lettuce leaf. “They +went fishing before sunrise, and they thought we’d like some perch and +bass for our picnic, so they brought us their whole catch. Aren’t they +cousins worth having?” + +Court and Jack were given three cheers immediately, and voted the first +batch of candy made at Camp Huairarwee. Then came the fire-building and +fish-frying. The girls collected sticks, and Cecily being skilled in +wood lore, a scientific fire was soon blazing. She dropped little lumps +of butter into the frying-pan, and when they were melted and sizzling in +went the first half dozen of fish, to be deftly turned with the iron +spoon, and sprinkled by Frances with pepper and salt. + +The first panful being done to a turn, the fish were doled out upon +lettuce leaves held up by starving maidens. No one missed the saratoga +chips at the banquet. There were those good old picnic standbys, +sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, and for dessert, large, sweet summer +apples, generous slices of maple-sugar cake and ice-cold lemonade. + +“This would be a royal spread even if we were eating it in the +Hazelhurst dining-room,” said Nancy. “But there isn’t anything like a +fine old rushing, roaring waterfall for giving your luncheon a flavor!” + + + + + CHAPTER X. + THE TRAIL TO THE NORTH POLE + + +“How would you like to go to the North Pole now?” asked Cecily as, +luncheon over, the girls lolled on the rocks above Jasper Falls. + +“I’m ready for North Pole, South Pole, Equator, or anything,” declared +Jean with enthusiasm. + +“We’ll have to go to Christmas Cave, then,” said Cecily. “The pole’s +inside it.” + +“Is there really something here you call the North Pole?” asked Betty. + +“Why, of course there is,” said Cecily. + +“Come on, then,—let’s make a dash for the pole!” said Jean. Every one +was ready to march, and Cecily led the party down the hill into the +dense woods at its base to take the trail to the Arctic regions. + +That trail, however, seemed to be hidden beyond all discovery. + +“I can’t find it anywhere!” Cecily had to admit. “I’ll go a little +farther and see if I can strike it.” She pushed on with Miss Hamersley +and a few energetic explorers. + +Jean, Frances and Betty, busy coaxing a chipmunk to be friendly, were +among those who stayed behind with Fräulein Bunsen. Roderick Dhu had +gone off on a hunt, and presently they saw a rabbit shoot across the +path and into a thicket, the collie in pursuit. + +“Rod—stop! come here!” called Jean, and she darted after the dog, hoping +to prevent bloodshed. Frances and Betty joined the chase, but the three +soon found themselves barred by the dense tangle that stopped even +Roderick, yet proved a safe retreat for the rabbit. + +“Listen, girls! What’s that rustling?” exclaimed Betty. + +“A bear probably,” said Frances. “Sick ’em, Rod!” But the collie needed +no urging. He dashed barking around the edge of the thicket. + +“Oh, dear! What is it? Let’s run!” cried Betty, and she sped back to the +others with a haste most unworthy of a battle maid. + +Jean and Frances followed the dog, and stopped short. Confronting them +stood a man, looking strangely dark in the deep shade,—a man at whom +Roderick Dhu was growling suspiciously. The girls pulled the dog away. + +“Come back to the others,” said Jean, and the two valiant amazons +hurried after Betty. A rustling of leaves told them that the man was +following. + +“I’m scared!” giggled Frances, and Jean felt as if something eerie were +pursuing them. + +“Betty, your bear’s coming after us!” Frances announced as they rejoined +their friends, and a minute later the stranger presented himself. + +After all there was nothing uncanny about him: he was, on the contrary, +a most picturesque figure. His swarthy complexion, jet black hair, +restless dark eyes and handsome features, were well set off by his +corduroy suit, blue flannel shirt and wide felt hat. + +“Pray, kind sir, know you where lies de Christmas Cave?” asked Fräulein, +who had studied Shakespeare when she was learning English and was apt to +slip into Elizabethan phrases. + +“Hey? What, marm?” asked the stranger. + +“He understands me not. You ask him, Carol,” said Fräulein. + +“You ought to have said, ‘Be thy intents wicked or charitable, thou +comest in such a questionable shape that I will speak to thee.’ You’re +forgetting your _Hamlet_, Bunnie, liebchen,” said Carol. Then she turned +to the newcomer, saying, “We’re trying to find the trail to Christmas +Cave. Do you know where it begins?” + +“Christmas Cave? That’s about a mile from here,” the man answered. “I’ll +show you the trail. Come right along this way.” + +“Oh, thank you,” said Carol, “but we must wait for the rest of our +party.” + +The man seemed quite ready to enjoy repose and a chat, and he lounged +against a tree with a careless grace. + +“He’s a French count in disguise!” whispered Betty. + +“Yes,” agreed Eunice. “He only said, ‘Hey? What, marm?’ to make us think +he was a country bumpkin.” + +“No, he’s a charming villain,” said Carol. “I’m morally certain he has a +dagger hidden in each of his boots.” + +“I guess you’re the folks that’s stayin’ with Mis’ Brook down to Black +Bear Camp, ain’t you?” the stranger inquired. + +“Yes, are you one of the guides?” asked Eunice. + +“Well, kinder. I ain’t a reg’lar guide, but I know the business a good +deal better than them guides at the inn. Their game’s to git the highest +pay for takin’ you the shortest cut. All they care for is to git paid +for savin’ their own shoe leather. But that ain’t _my_ way. I charge +jest half what the reg’lar guides do, and take you the prettiest trail +every time. So I’m your guide whenever you want one.” + +The explorers returned just then, and Cecily exclaimed, “Why, there’s +Tony Harrel! How do you do, Tony? Do you know where the trail to +Christmas Cave starts?” + +“Jest waitin’ to take you there,” replied the gallant Tony. “I found the +ladies was in a fix, an’ told ’em I’d show ’em the way. I’ll take you +home by the new trail too.” + +“Carol,” whispered Jean, “don’t you remember—Douglas said it was Tony +Harrel that stole his rifle! This must be the same man.” + +“I don’t like Tony a bit,” Cecily confided to Jean. “He _will_ call me +‘Cissy,’ and he won’t say ‘Miss.’ But I’m glad we met him, so he can +show us the way. His real name’s Mark Antony—isn’t that rich!” + +Mark Antony led the way to where a narrow trail branched out from their +path. Then he said to Cecily, who, with Carol and Jean, was in advance +of the rest, “Say, Cissy, your mother’s lookin’ round for a boatman, +ain’t she? I heard Eph Jones disapp’inted her, an’ I kinder thought I’d +like the place, myself.” + +“Oh, but I’m almost sure she’s going to engage Douglas Gordon,” Cecily +answered. + +“Oh, she’s goin’ to take that kid, is she?” Mark Antony smiled +scornfully. “Well, I guess after she’s tried him for about one day, +she’ll be lookin’ for somebody else.” + +“Douglas has been very well recommended,” said Cecily with her most +grown up air. + +“Oh, well, he’s a mighty fine gen’leman, of course,” Harrel +acknowledged. “Great on readin’ books, an’ that sort o’ thing; but when +it comes down to doin’ chores, the work _he_ knows how to do ’s to keep +his hands clean. He’s boardin’ with us, so I know. I guess the folks at +Big Pine Camp thought he was a little _too_ much of a dude!” + +“They didn’t at all!” burst out Jean. “He worked as hard as he could, +and he only left because their man came back. And he doesn’t care one +bit about keeping his hands clean! He’s in earnest, and he wants to +work!” + +“He’s a gen’leman, all right, though,” said Tony. “He’ll take good care +never to _kill_ himself workin’.” + +“You don’t know anything about it!” cried Jean. “He’s too proud to +depend on anybody. And a _real_ gentleman is never ashamed to work!” + +The man laughed, but his dark eyes shot a sneering glance at Jean. +“Well,” he remarked, “he seems to know how to git around the girls, all +right!” + +“He _doesn’t_ try to get around us!” began Jean indignantly. + +“Hush, Jean, be careful!” With her low voice and warning look Carol +checked the warrior-queen. Then turning to Harrel, she said, “_Miss +Brook_ will show us the way now, herself. We thank you for showing us +the trail, but we prefer not to trouble you any longer. Good-afternoon. +Girls, we must go back to the others.” Very quietly she spoke; but she +looked unusually dignified and stately, and there was something in those +clear eyes of hers that changed Mark Antony’s sneer to a stare of +surprise, followed by an angry glance, and then caused him, shrugging +his shoulders, to turn away without a word. They heard him whistling +carelessly as they retraced their steps. + +“The horrid, old, sneering thing!” exclaimed Jean. “I wanted to tell him +gentlemen didn’t steal other peoples’ rifles! Why did you tell me to be +careful, Carol?” + +“The less you say to such a person, the better,” answered Carol. “I +didn’t like his manner from the first.” + +“I’m glad you called me ‘Miss Brook,’ and sent him marching,” said +Cecily. “You _can_ look like an empress, Carol! I don’t wonder he turned +and fled. My, but you made him angry, though! Did you see how his eyes +flashed? They say he has Indian blood.” + +“He looked about ready to scalp me,” said Carol. + +They joined the others, and then Cecily led the way along the trail to a +mass of rock in which they saw the opening of a cave. “That’s Christmas +Cave,” said she. “Wait here till I come back.” She vanished inside the +cavern, reappeared, and threw something at Jean which hit her in the +chest and burst as it struck. + +“Snow!” gasped Jean. “Good gracious me! A snowball!” + +“Yes, it was a snowball,” said Cecily. “Merry Christmas! Come and hang +up your stockings.” + +As many girls as could crowd in followed her into the cave and found +themselves shivering in the chilly air of Jack Frost’s impregnable +fortress. Patches of snow, the relics of last winter’s drifts, lay in +crevices in the rocks. In the farthest recess was an accumulation of +rough ice, and planted in its center stood a miniature Indian totem-pole +with grotesque figures carved upon it and painted red, white and blue. A +tiny American flag was fastened at the top of the pole. + +“Hooray! There’s the North Pole, and it belongs to Uncle Sam!” cried +Jean. + +“He’ll own both poles before he’s done with it,” said Carol. “The stars +and stripes forever!” + +“Jack made the pole,” said Cecily. “Isn’t that a fine iceberg? It never +melts all the year round.” + +“Let’s have a snowball fight,” Frances proposed, and a battle ensued. +The ammunition was scarce, but the girls kept remoulding their shot, +every one who could find a bit of snow joining in the fray. + +When everybody had enjoyed a taste of freezing, the campers trudged home +to Huairarwee. They found Douglas Gordon on the veranda, talking with +Mrs. Brook, and just as the supper-horn sounded, he came down and broke +the good news to Jean. + +“She’s engaged me for the whole summer! I’m going to get six dollars a +week, and I start to-night. I’m going to build your camp-fire.” + +That evening Douglas built a royal fire, and around it the merriest of +revels took place. The girls of the Hazelhurst glee-club led the others +in an open air concert, to the accompaniment of Carol’s mandolin. All +the best-loved college songs were given, and the favorites of the +school, ending with “Hazelhurst Hall forever!” set to the tune of the +Eton Boating Song, and now rendered with an added verse in which it was +“Halcyon Lake forever!” and “Cheer for the best of camps!” Charades +followed and then good old-fashioned _twenty questions_. + +“I decline to do any more guessing!” Carol declared, when Jean and +Cecily, leagued together, had put the rest through mental gymnastics. +“The Silver Sworders go too deep into history for the brains of an +_alumna_! I remember that ‘King Arthur made a bag-pudding,’ and the +immortal George chopped down a cherry-tree, but beyond that I’m rusty. +And when it comes to having to guess the one hundred and first hair that +turned gray on Oliver Cromwell’s head—that’s altogether too violent a +cerebral strain!” + +“I agree with you,” said Nancy. “Let’s drop _twenty questions_ and tell +an alphabetical story. Some one gives a sentence—or as much more as her +brains are equal to—with all the words beginning with _A_; then when she +breaks off, some one else takes up the story all in _B’s_, and so we go +on down the alphabet. It’s better not to go around in turn,—but to +answer up as our names are called,—then we sha’n’t know beforehand what +letters we’re to have.” + +“Worse than Oliver’s hair!” groaned Carol. But Jean cried eagerly: +“Let’s play it!” + +“I’ll call out your names,” said Miss Hamersley. “Dorothy!” + +“Give me time!” gasped Dorothy Stone. “Let me see:—a—a—Oh, wait! I’m +getting it! An attractive—amiable—athletic—assembly—ambled artlessly +along a—a—I’m stuck!” + +“Along a what, Ethel?” asked Miss Hamersley. + +“Babbling brook. Blushing boarding-school +beauties—bounded—blissfully,—brandishing birch-bark boomerangs! Bouncing +Betty,—I’ve given out!” + +With sighs, and petitions to the audience to “Wait a minute!” the +rigmarole was spun out, sentence by sentence. + +“Helen,” said Miss Hamersley, “what did bouncing Betty do?” + +“Crept cautiously, clutching Cecily. Carol, chanting cheerily, climbed +cliffs, crags,—crossed cataracts,—cleverly caught crabs,—I’m exhausted!” + +“Ruth!” + +“Dauntless Dorothy daringly darted down dark dangerous declivities.” + +“Marion!” + +“Eunice, eating eels, eschewed elegant edibles.” + +“Nancy!” + +“Frances frisked fairy-like, following fleeing fawns. Fräulein +frantically fished for frogs.” + +“Winifred!” + +“Giddy Gladys glided gleefully, gyrating gracefully. Grace Gardner +gloatingly gathered great, green grasshoppers.” + +“Katrina!” + +“Haughty Helen hallooed hysterically: ‘Help! help!’” + +“Indicating irate Indian invaders,” said Hope La Monte, as her name was +called. + +“Gladys!” + +“Jolly Jean jumped joyously, jesting jocosely.” + +“Frances!” + +“Katrina killed kittymounts,—catamount cubs, I mean,” said Frances. + +“Pamela!” + +“Louise liked luncheon-time, loving liquid lemonade.” + +“Olive!” + +“Mad Marion marched merrily ’mid mirthful mandolin music.” + +“Carol!” + +“_En_chanting Nancy Newcomb _en_countered ninety-nine noxious gnats.” + +“Carol, you cheat!” cried Nancy. “Pay a forfeit immediately.” + +“_I_ spell phonetically,” Carol replied calmly. + +“Jean!” called Miss Hamersley. + +“Omnivorous Olive ordered oysters, omelet, oatmeal, +owl-on-toast,—_olives_.” + +“Louise!” + +“Pamela preferred perch,” Louise Phillips responded. + +“Eunice!” + +“Queenie quavered querulously: ‘Quinces, quails, quartered cucumbers!’” + +“Cheating again! Betty!” + +“Roderick—running rabid—rushed raging—round Ruth!” + +“Grace!” + +“Strenuous Silver Sword Sisters, slaying, slashing, slaughtering—.” + +“Traced the terrible Tony through the tangled thicket,” said Cecily, the +last of the twenty girls. “Now, Douglas, you’ll have to finish the +alphabet.” + +“U. V. W. X. Y. Z.—all of them?” asked Douglas, with a wry face. “I +ought to have a dictionary. Let’s see.” He meditated. “Will this do? +Ugly, underhanded villain wandered wobbling, _ex_citedly yelling, +‘Zoological zigzag zebras!’” The camp boatman had acquitted himself +nobly and was applauded. + +“Now let’s play some writing-games; we have plenty of light,” Winifred +Russell proposed. + +“Winsome Winnie wishes we would write wise witticisms,” said Carol. +“Impossible, Win,—but we can perpetrate some more nonsense.” + +Pencils and paper were brought, and “gingerbread poetry” and _verbarium_ +were played by the firelight. + +“Now _I_ am going to beg for the old-fashioned game I used to love when +I was Cecily’s age,” said Mrs. Brook. “First you each write the +description of the hero of your story, fold it over and pass it on to +your neighbor. Then you write the hero’s name; then how the heroine +looked, and her name; then, where they met, what he said, what she said, +what they did, the consequence, and what the world said. And each time +you fold over what you’ve written and pass it on.” + +Pencils flew busily, and when the papers were read aloud, the campers +found themselves figuring as heroines in the most thrilling situations. + +“Here’s a tragedy!” said Cecily, and she read the last paper. + + “The raven-haired, fiery-eyed, French count, Douglas Gordon, and the + dashing new woman who has made a world record in her racing + automobile, Fräulein Bunsen—” + +“I? Racing in automobiles?” cried Fräulein. + + “Met at the bottom of Halcyon Lake, their canoes having capsized. He + said: ‘Where are you going, my pretty giraffe?’” + +Jean boxed Frances’ ears. + + “She said: ‘Don’t shoot that kingfisher!’ and leaped. Then they + mounted the winged horse, Cyclone, and flew madly over the + Adirondacks. The consequence was that Mark Antony Harrel immured + them in Christmas Cave till they froze to the iceberg, and then made + his fortune by exhibiting them as fossils of the glacial period. And + the world said: ‘What else could you expect at a girls’ camp!’” + +“You are very naughty girls to treat me so!” said Fräulein. “For +punishment you must bring apples to roast and de kettle—vat you call +him,—de Villiam?” + +“The Billy,” laughed Carol. + +The apples and the Billy were brought, and while the company feasted on +chocolate, boiled over the camp-fire, and roast apples, a story-telling +contest went on. Here Jean was in her element and told a blood-curdling +tale of an Indian chief who in days of yore had pitched his wigwam where +the bungalow now stood, had scalped his enemies wholesale, and finally, +while kidnapping a beautiful squaw, had himself been tomahawked on +Camp-fire Rock by the maiden’s betrothed. Since that time, Jean assured +her hearers, his ghost had haunted Huairarwee. + +“Enter the ghost!” Carol suddenly announced in a sepulchral voice. The +other girls started, half a dozen screamed, and Roderick Dhu awoke +barking. A dark figure was gliding stealthily through the trees on the +bluff, with the noiseless tread of an Indian. Douglas ran up the bank to +investigate. + +“It’s only Tony Harrel!” he said. “Say, Tony, I’ll be home soon. Don’t +lock me out!” + +Mark Antony deigned not to reply. He vanished as noiselessly as he had +come. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + MERMAIDS + + +“Girls, put on your bathing suits. It’s so much warmer to-day we can +take our morning dip.” Miss Hamersley issued the order from her tent at +half-past six, and a few minutes later a troop of girls in bathing suits +gathered under the trees before their teacher, who was also dressed for +a plunge. “We are going to start our routine of camp life this morning. +We’ll begin with the ‘setting up’ drill,” she said. She made her pupils +form in line, and led them through a series of calisthenic exercises +which sent the blood tingling through their veins. + +The drill over, the girls went down to the lake. Morning clouds still +hung about the distant hills, but the mist had lifted from the calm +water, and the basin on the edge of which Camp Huairarwee stood flashed +in the early sunlight. + +“Ugh! It’s cold! I’ll never screw up my courage to go under,” said +Betty, as she dipped her hand into the ripples, while Frances sent +Roderick Dhu dashing in after a stick. Carol, Nancy and Helen rushed +past them, waded far into the water, dived under, and bobbing up again +struck out in a swimming race. + +“Forward march!” cried the queen of the Silver Sword. Wading boldly out, +with Frances after her, down she dipped, over head and shoulders, and +rose laughing and gasping from the shock. “Whew! It takes your breath +away, but it’s fine! Cece, you’re a splendid swimmer!” she called, as +Cecily shot by her through the water. “Teach me, will you?” + +“All right,” said Cecily, stopping her swim. “Throw yourself out _this_ +way, and go _so_! I’ll hold your chin up.” She gave an object lesson in +the jump and the strokes, and Jean, nothing daunted, tried again and +again, thrashing the water furiously, while Betty splashed and shivered, +and Frances, almost as amphibious as Cecily, floated peacefully till she +collided with Roderick Dhu. + +“Come out now!” called Miss Hamersley. + +“But we’ve only been in a minute!” the bathers complained. + +“You’ve been in quite long enough for the first time. You may take a +longer dip to-morrow,” was the reply. + +Douglas arrived soon after breakfast to begin his first day’s work as +camp boatman. Jean ran to meet him. “Did you find out what Tony Harrel +was doing around here last night?” she asked. + +“No,” answered Douglas. “He said it was none of my business. He was as +mad as a hornet about something or other.” + +“I know why he was mad,” said Jean. “He wanted to be our boatman +himself. He spoke to Cecily about it yesterday.” + +“Whe-ew!” whistled Douglas. “I didn’t know I was cutting him out! I +don’t wonder he’s grouchy!” + +“You _didn’t_ cut him out at all,” said Jean. “Mrs. Brook says she +wouldn’t have had him for anything.” + +“Maybe he was snooping around to see how badly I was doing my work,” +said Douglas. “He’s a queer chap. He has a habit of sneaking along +softly,—makes me think of a catamount.” + +“That must be the Indian in him!” said Jean. “Cecily told me he had +Indian blood.” + +“He looks Indianish,” said Douglas. “It must be his instinct to follow +the warpath that makes him sneak like that! Aren’t you sorry you haven’t +got an Algonquin chief for your boatman?” + +“No, I’m not! I’m afraid he’d tomahawk us some day!” said Jean. + +“_You_ got me the place: I won’t forget that in a hurry,” said Douglas +gratefully. “Let me teach you to paddle, this morning, will you?” + +“Let you! I should think I would!” cried Jean: “I’m wild to learn! I’ll +run up and ask Miss Hamersley.” + +“Yes, indeed!” was Miss Hamersley’s reply, “if you’ll be _very_ careful, +and be sure to be back in half an hour. You know Mrs. Brook has ordered +the launch from the Inn to take us the round trip of the lake this +morning. It is to be here at half-past nine. We must not keep it +waiting.” + +“Oh, let me go too!” cried Frances, jumping down from her perch on the +veranda railing. “I haven’t been in a canoe yet,—only a stupid old +rowboat!” + +“No, Frances, three are too many for the canoe while Jean is learning to +paddle,” said Miss Hamersley. “You may come in the boat with me, if you +would like to. I was going to take somebody out, myself.” + +Frances looked sulky as she turned away with Jean. “Miss Hamersley’s an +old crank!” she grumbled, when out of the teacher’s hearing. “I think +it’s mean! I haven’t been in a canoe once, and this is your second +time!” + +“It’s too bad, Frisk,” said Jean. “Never mind; I’ll just take a short +lesson, and then Douglas will have time to take you.” + +“Oh, yes, I know what your short time means!” returned Frances +petulantly. “The launch’ll be here by the time you get back! I don’t +believe I’ll have a chance to go in a canoe for a week,—there’s such a +crowd of us! I don’t care—I think it’s mean! I’m just crazy to learn how +to paddle.” She walked away, preferring to stay self-marooned on shore +than to compromise with the despised rowboat and Miss Hamersley. + +“Oh, bother! I suppose I’ll have to ask Douglas to give me only half the +time, and then take _her_. It won’t be any kind of a lesson,—just +fifteen minutes!” Jean said to herself, as she went down to the +boat-house. Douglas was waiting for her at the landing, with a canoe. +“That’s a mighty pretty pin you have on,” said he as she joined him. “A +sword and a shield, isn’t it? Is it a class pin?” + +“No, it’s the badge of our society. All the girls of my class belong to +the Order of the Silver Sword,” Jean answered. + +“All aboard!” said Douglas, holding out his hand to help her. “You sit +there in the bow.” But Jean’s fingers were on her badge, and she held +back. + +“Douglas, I wish you’d take Frances instead of me, this time,” she said. +“I don’t want to be selfish. I was in the canoe yesterday, and she +hasn’t been at all. Won’t you please give her a lesson now, and I’ll +wait till to-morrow?” + +“Oh, please come! I want to teach _you_,” begged Douglas. “Yesterday +doesn’t count. We start in to-day, and you have the first turn.” + +“No, Douglas, please! You know I’d love to, but I want you to take her. +She wants to go ever so much, and I can wait perfectly well.” + +“So can she. Come along. You said you would.” + +“I know I did, but I want her to go first. Please take her this time.” + +Douglas looked at the earnest, resolute face, and a smile broke over his +own. “All right!” he answered. “I’ll take her, but you stay around the +dock. I’ll give her a lesson first, and then I’ll come back for +you—that’s only square! There’s plenty of time for both. It won’t take +_you_ long to learn.” + +“Oh, thank you, Douglas, ever so much! I’ll wait right here for you.” +Light-hearted, Jean ran to call Frances, who was roaming about with a +glum face. + +“Frisk! Douglas is going to take you out first and give you a lesson, +and then he’s coming back for me,” said Jean. “He says there’s plenty of +time for both of us.” + +The sulky face was bright in a twinkling. “Don’t you really mind if I go +first? Honor bright?” asked Frances. + +“No. You go first!” + +“You’re a peach!” Frances tossed back a kiss as she flew down to the +canoe. Jean followed her to the water’s edge, and waited there, watching +the lesson. + +“Oh, Giraffe, it’s simply grand!” cried Frances, as they came in to +shore. + +“There’s ten minutes for you, now,” said Douglas, when the second pupil +embarked. It was a short lesson, for the launch was already in sight, +but it was a successful one. + +“Now you’re getting the hang of it! That’s first rate!” said Douglas, as +she toiled away at the paddle. And he called to Cecily, as they passed +her canoe, “Miss Jean’s going to beat everybody on the lake, pretty +soon!” + +“Douglas,” said his pupil, “please don’t call me _Miss_ Jean. I don’t +like to be called ‘Miss.’ It makes me feel queer. I’m only a little +girl, if I _am_ tall! Please say _Jean_.” + +“That isn’t right for the man-of-all-work, is it?” + +“I don’t care if you _are_ the man-of-all-work,—you’re a gentleman!” she +answered. “You must say _Jean_!” And Douglas laughed and said, “All +right, Jean!” + +That afternoon the first swimming lesson took place, Miss Hamersley and +a few girls who were expert swimmers teaching the “freshies,” as they +dubbed those who had not yet learned to be aquatic. Before many days +were over one would hardly have recognized the pale Jean of Hazelhurst +Hall in the brown and rosy head pupil of Carol’s swimming class. A dip +in the lake before breakfast; later on, boating and swimming; a tramp +every other day, and at least twice a week a picnic, in which Camp +Hurricane usually joined,—that was the rule at Huairarwee. + +“I’m going to have my girls taught how to be capsized without drowning,” +said Miss Hamersley, one day. “Mrs. Brook has arranged for Douglas and +Jack to take you out in canoes and show you how to go overboard. They +will take care that you are within your depth, of course.” + +So at the close of the swimming, Douglas and Jack in their bathing suits +gave an object lesson with Cecily. They took her far out in a canoe, for +she was a mermaid well used to exploring the green depths of the lake. +Suddenly Douglas stepped upon the gunwale. The canoe went over +instantly, and all three vanished under the waves. The water was stirred +as if giant fishes were disporting themselves, but no heads reappeared. + +“Oh, dear! They’re not drowning, are they?” wailed Betty. But just then +Cecily’s head popped up about a rod from where she had gone down. Then +Jack, then Douglas looked out of the water, an amazing distance farther +out. They swam back, however, and recovering the floating bowls which +they had taken with them for bailing, they quickly emptied their craft; +then climbed in over the bow and stern, and paddled back to shore. + +“Did we scare you?” said Cecily. “We had a little excursion under +water!” + +“Who wants to be spilled now?” asked Jack. + +“_I_ don’t!” said Betty. + +“I _do_!” cried Jean. + +“I’ll let Giraffe go first. It’ll take deep water to drown _her_!” said +the Mouse magnanimously. + +Douglas paddled Jean out, while Jack launched another canoe. “Now, when +you feel yourself going,” said he, “just keep your mouth shut and let +yourself go easy, and then strike out and swim.” + +Jean shut her mouth and watched his mischievous face intently. The canoe +kept giving disconcerting wobbles, but it was just when the boy had +assumed a look of the utmost innocence that the upset came. Jean let +herself go, and go she did with a mighty splash. Striking out boldly, +she swam till she found herself panting heavily, then let her feet touch +bottom and stood up, head and shoulders out of water. + +“Good work!” said Douglas. “No use trying to drown _you_!” + +“It’s as easy as going to sleep!” Jean declared. + +Douglas gave her a lesson in bailing out while supporting herself in the +water; and then one in reëmbarking, which she found far more difficult, +though after tipping the canoe over several times, she scrambled in +successfully at last. + +“Now let’s get Frances, and I’ll swamp you both together,” said Douglas. +The Mouse was emboldened to take her turn, and giggled and squealed as +the boy tipped the canoe from side to side to make it fill. + +“Oh, Douglas! Let’s act Jean saving the kingfisher’s life!” Frances +proposed. + +“All right!” And with his paddle for a rifle Douglas took aim at Jean. + +“Don’t shoot that Giraffe!” shrieked Frances, and lurching forward the +frolicksome maid of honor flung her arms wildly around her queen. The +canoe, already half full, went over like a flash. + +“What was it, anyway,—a whale or a tidal wave?” Douglas inquired as they +righted themselves in the water. + +“It was nothing but a bad little Mouse, and I’m going to drown her!” +said Jean. She made a pounce for Frances. + +“Shoo! Get away! I tried to save your life, when I saw all was lost! You +went down clasped in my arms, Giraffe!” said Frances with reproachful +tenderness, as she protected herself behind Douglas. + +“Well, you’ll go down clasped in _my_ arms, this time!” Jean retorted. +She caught Frances at last and ducked her well. + +By ones and twos the candidates were initiated; and the lesson was +repeated from time to time, until every girl in camp might have been +trusted to show presence of mind even should she be upset in the middle +of the lake. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS + + +“I’ve got a new bunk now, Jean,” said Douglas, as he set out for his +Sunday half-holiday, a covered tin pail in his hand. + +“Do you mean you’ve left the Harrels’?” asked Jean. + +“I’m going to leave to-night. I won’t stay in _that_ place any longer.” + +“Why, what’s the matter?” + +“Tony’s mad because people are getting onto his breaking the game laws, +and he thinks I gave him away. He told me I’d been lying about him. I +won’t stand anybody saying that I lie!” + +“The wicked thing! How did he dare?” cried Jean. “He won’t try to hurt +you now, will he?” + +“Oh, shucks, no!” said Douglas contemptuously. “Don’t you worry about +_me_! He went off this morning, anyhow: he says he’s got a job in +Plattsburg. Guess where I’m going?” + +“To the Hamiltons’?” asked Jean. + +“Good guess. Yes, Dr. Hamilton found out I was going to leave, and he +said he’d take me in and let me work out my board when I’m off duty +here. Isn’t that a cinch?” + +“I should think it was! It’s perfectly fine!” + +“I’m sorry about Limpy, though,” said Douglas. “She feels real badly +because I’m going.” + +“Who’s Limpy?” + +“She’s George Harrel’s stepdaughter. Her mother’s dead. She’s sick, and +I do things for her and sort of jolly her up.” + +“What’s the matter with her?” asked Jean. + +“Oh, I don’t know. Her heart does queer stunts. She was sick all last +winter, and now she’s just weak all the time, and sometimes she gets +unconscious fits,—you’d think she was going to die right off.” + +“Poor thing, how dreadful!” cried Jean. “What a funny name _Limpy_ is!” + +“It’s short for _Olympia_,—Stella Olympia Weeks—that’s the whole of it.” + +“Stella Olympia Weeks! Horrors!” exclaimed Jean. “I should think her +_name_ would be enough! Limpy Weeks,—limp and weak! I don’t wonder she’s +weak all the time. _Stella_’s pretty, though. Why don’t they call her +_Stella_?” + +“Give it up,” said Douglas. + +“How old is she?” asked Jean. + +“Fifteen—she’s just three days younger than I am. She’s a real nice +girl, but her father’s a regular old skinflint. Well, anyhow, Limpy’s +going to have something nice _this_ time. Mrs. Brook gave me some ice +cream for her. I’ll have to hustle, or it’ll melt. Look here! Couldn’t +you go and see her some time? It’ll do her an awful lot of good.” + +“Really? Do you want me to? Do you think she’d like to have me?” asked +Jean, her face lighting up. + +“Of course she would,—she’s awfully lonely. Come along and see her now, +don’t you want to?” + +“I’d love to! I’ll get Carol to come too, and take her mandolin, and +sing to her.” + +“That’ll be great,” said Douglas. “She loves music, and she hasn’t +anything but an old accordion. I give her accordion concerts.” + +Carol had just thrown herself down under a golden birch to enjoy a +comfortable Sunday afternoon of reading; but the battle maid roused her +mercilessly, demanding that she bestir herself and join the expedition +to visit the damsel in distress. + + “There was a young maid of Brazil, + Who never could learn to keep still. + She was so energetic, + And peripatetic, + She made her poor Carolie ill!” + +improvised Carol. + +“You lazy old Carolie! It won’t make you ill a bit!” laughed Jean. “Come +along, _please_!” + +“Oh, now, Queenie, does your majesty really think it’s your duty to drag +me off with you this hot day, when I’m _so_ comfortable? Think what a +nice chance it is to show _me_ a little Caritas, and let me rest in +peace!” + +“You don’t need any Caritas at all!” said Jean relentlessly. “Come +along! _I_ don’t know what to say to sick people. You’ll have to help +me.” + +“Oh, misery me!” groaned Carol. “Well, pull me up!” she added +good-naturedly, holding out a lazy arm. “I’ll go with you and die of +sun-stroke in a good cause,—that is, if our stern teachers will let us +run off together again. Go and ask them.” + +“All right. You’re a love and a jewel! Oh, Carolie! don’t forget to take +your mandolin!” + +“I’m not going to _sing_ at that poor sick girl!” Carol objected. + +“Oh, but Carolie, Douglas says she _loves_ music, and she has only a +silly old accordion! You _must_ sing for her,” Jean insisted. + +“Why did I adopt a tyrant!” sighed Carol, going into her tent. + +It was a mile to the Harrel farm, and the place—Carol said when they +reached it—was enough to give the Frisky Mouse, herself, the blues. For +many a year the house had cried for a coat of paint, and the barn looked +ready to topple over. Douglas took them into the living-room, where +nearly every piece of furniture was a threadbare cripple. There they +found Limpy lying on a dilapidated sofa. She had tossed her tangle of +pale, lusterless hair over the pillow, and thrown her patch-work quilt +on the floor. She wore an untidy calico wrapper, the collar flying open +and the sleeves rolled up, showing her pitifully thin neck and arms. + +“Hello, Limpy!” said Douglas. “I brought Miss Armstrong and Miss Jean to +see you.” + +The girl turned her head and stared, but did not speak or smile. Such a +white, tired face as the poor child had! Her big gray eyes had dark +rings under them, and their expression was listless and unhappy. Jean +had picked a large bunch of daisies, but she lacked the courage to offer +it. Carol, nothing daunted, knelt down by the sofa and caught up a weak +little hand. “You poor little chicky! What’s happened to you?” she +exclaimed. “You’ve had a real hard time, haven’t you? It’s too bad! But +we’re going to take you in hand and pet you up and make you well again.” + +Limpy looked in dumb astonishment at the lovely, healthful face, and the +clear eyes full of sunlight, and Carol went on cheerily: “You know +there’s a great big crowd of us girls here, and we’re all just as jolly +as can be. We’re going to spend the whole summer, and you must take us +all for friends.” + +“’S ma’am,” murmured Limpy faintly; as if the prospect of friends was +depressing. + +“Miss Jean’s coming to see you a lot,” said Douglas. “You won’t care a +cent about my going, now.” Limpy moved her head in a sad little shake of +denial. + +“We’re not going to let you miss Douglas one bit,” said Carol. “Here’s +Jean now, and next time we’ll bring Cecily, and some day when you feel +_very_ well, you may find the whole twenty of us coming to call. Will +you let us in?” + +“’S ma’am,” said Limpy, but she looked overawed at the thought. + +Carol settled herself in the chair that Douglas had brought her, and +tried again. “I never saw such lovely daisy fields as you have here,” +said she. “Jean thought you’d like some daisies.” + +Jean, thus prodded, laid her flowers silently on Limpy’s pillow,—as if +she were laying them on Juliet’s bier, so Carol told her afterwards. A +weak “Thank you!” was heard, and the ghost of a smile flickered over the +wan face. + +Douglas winked at Jean, then at the invalid. “Come on, Limpy,—look +pleasant!” said he, impersonating a photographer. “Here, hold your +bouquet,—that’s the ticket! Now let’s stick a daisy over your ear. +There! now you look stunning!” + +“Ain’t you silly!” Limpy murmured softly, the ghost of a smile turning +to a real one at last. + +Then Douglas presented Carol with her mandolin, saying, “Miss Carol’s +going to sing for you; isn’t that great!” Carol took the mandolin from +its case, and the tired eyes brightened with expectancy. Douglas picked +up his pail. + +“Here’s something Mrs. Brook sent you. Feel like some pork and beans?” +he inquired, and carried the pail into the kitchen to unpack the ice +cream. + +Jean shot after him. “Douglas, I’m scared to death!” she declared. “I +don’t know what to say to her. I know she doesn’t want me here. I think +she’s mad I came.” + +“No, she’s not,” said Douglas, “but she’s scared worse than you +are,—that’s what’s the matter with her. She thinks you’re ‘city people.’ +She’s awfully shy, but I didn’t think she’d be quite so bad. Say—you +take this ice cream in to her,—then you’ll make friends.” + +“Yes, do give me _something_ to do,” said Jean piteously. She took the +bowl, and Douglas a spoon. As they turned back they heard Carol singing +a Southern mammy’s lullaby. Carol had a sweet, rich-toned voice, and +they found Limpy all attention, a light in her face, and the dull +lifeless look quite gone. + +“There!” said Douglas, as Carol paused. “That’s the real thing, isn’t +it, Limpy?” + +“It’s _elergant_!” she replied rapturously. + +Then Jean presented the strawberry ice cream. “Here’s something nice,” +she said shyly. “I’ll hold it for you.” + +“Oh—thank you!” said Limpy eagerly. “Don’t you want some, too?” she +timidly asked her guests. + +“No, thank you. We’ve had ours already,” she was assured, and she took a +first delectable spoonful. + +“It’s awful good!” she said with a sigh of bliss. + +Limpy feasted to music, for the lullaby was followed by _Comin’ through +the Rye_ and _Anne Laurie_, for the benefit of the Scotch laddie who was +beating time on the invalid’s foot. + +“That’s enough now. I don’t want to tire you,” said Carol. But Limpy +protested: “Oh, no, ma’am! I couldn’t never get tired o’ music! I play +the accordion when I feel good, but I’d rather play _that_ thing, an’ +sing.” So the clear voice rang out again, this time in joyous Easter +melodies. + +“Now we’re going to cool you off beautifully,” said Carol, at last, +laying down her mandolin. “Douglas, you take that chair. You take the +quilt and pillow, Jean, and I’ll take Limpy, and we’ll set her out under +the trees where it’s nice and breezy.” + +A very much surprised Limpy was presently reclining in an armchair under +the shady maples. “Oh, ain’t it nice out here!” said the poor little +white blossom that had been withering indoors. + +“Now I’m going to braid your hair in two dear little pigtails,” said +Carol. “It must make you so hot, hanging loose like that. Come along, +Douglas, show me where her room is, please. I’ll have to get her comb. +We’ll keep out of the way for a while, and give Jean a chance to make +friends with her,” she explained, as they went into the house. + +Jean, still tongue-tied with shyness, rolled imploring eyes at the +comrades deserting her, and pulled a clover to pieces while her brain +whirled in a wild hunt. Wonder of wonders, a thought came! “When you’re +better, Limpy,” said she, “wouldn’t you like to come up to the camp and +see some of our fun? Douglas could take you out on the lake.” + +“Oh, I’d love to!” said Limpy wistfully. “But I don’t feel like I’ll +ever be well enough. I have such bad spells with my heart, an’ I can’t +have Doctor no more.” + +“Why can’t you have the doctor?” + +“Pa says he won’t pay no more doctor’s bills.” + +“The mean—” Jean began, and stopped short. Remembering Carol’s cheery +way, she said brightly, “Oh, but you’re going to get well! Why, you look +_ever_ so much better than when we came! And never mind if you can’t get +up to camp just yet, we can have lots of nice times right here. I’ll +come and read to you whenever I can.” + +“You’re awful good,” said Limpy, gratefully. “I’ll be so lonesome, now +Douglas is goin’.” + +“I’m lonely, too, sometimes, because I’m so far away from home,” said +Jean. + +“I wisht I had a sister,” said Limpy. + +“I’ve always wished _I_ had one,” said Jean. “I’ll tell you what! Let’s +play _we_’re sisters, and then you won’t feel half so lonely.” + +Limpy opened her eyes to their widest. “What do you mean?” she asked. + +“Why, I’ll pretend you’re my sister, and come and see you just as often +as I can; and when I go back to school I’ll write letters to you and +tell you all about the girls, and all we do. And you must write to _me_ +too. And we’ll sign our letters, ‘Your loving sister.’ Then you won’t +feel all alone, will you?” + +When Carol came back, having put the small coop of a bedroom to rights, +she found Jean sitting on the arm of the chair, chattering like a +magpie, and Limpy laughing merrily as she held Jean’s hand. And when her +visitors had to go, Limpy made Douglas gather them each a bouquet of +very stiff flowers from the little old-fashioned overgrown garden. + +“Good-bye, chickabiddy,” said Carol. “We’ll run in to-morrow and see if +you’re behaving yourself, and if we find you hiding away indoors again, +we’ll pick you right straight up and put you out to play in the +daisies.” She gave her a pat and a kiss. + +“Bye-bye,—Sister,” said Jean. Holding out the neat pigtails, one in each +hand, she kissed the face between them, and Limpy put her arms around +Jean’s neck and gave her a soft little grateful hug. + +“Jeanie, Queenie, no fear your majesty won’t conquer the world!” said +Carol as they went back to camp. “You came out gloriously! I’m so glad +you dragged this lazy-bones off this afternoon. Poor little dear! I’m +going down to give her a concert whenever I can.” + +“Oh, will you, Miss Carol!” said Douglas eagerly. “We’ll have her cured +up in less than no time, with music like that! It’s the best _I_ ever +heard!” + +Jean walked along in a brown study. Suddenly she said, “Limpy’s afraid +she’ll never get well, because her horrid old miser of a stepfather +won’t pay any more doctor’s bills. Carolie, let’s have a _fair_, and +raise money for her so she can have the doctor whenever she wants.” + +“Fine idea, your majesty!” said Carol. “Talk it up with your battle +maids, and the rest of us’ll help you. Only don’t let’s call it a +_fair_,—fairs were stale when Columbus came over.” + +So the queen of the Silver Sword called her maidens into counsel. + +“I know!” said Cecily. “Let’s have a Forest Festival!” And she +propounded a plan that enchanted her friends. Around the camp-fire that +evening, a meeting of all the summer sisters was held, and Cecily’s +project was adopted. By the time that Carol, who was the camp bugler, +had sounded _taps_, it had been decided that Camp Huairarwee should give +a fair in July for the benefit of Stella Olympia Weeks, and that it +should be of a novel and strictly woodsy kind, called—as the princess of +the Scroll had suggested—“A Forest Festival.” + +The days that followed were brimming over with frolics and excursions; +but the girls found time to devote a part of each one to working for the +fair. There was much letter writing, too, for supplies had to be ordered +from home, and petitions sent to their families and friends to +contribute wares. The battle maids who had not come to camp were +appealed to and responded gallantly to their sovereign’s call. + +Meanwhile, Limpy, her listlessness all gone, became the protégée of the +Silver Sword, and found warm friends in Cecily and Betty as well as in +Carol and Jean. Frances made one call on her, sniffed the aroma of the +parlor, observed to Betty, “Don’t you hate that cabbagey smell?” and +declined to repeat the visit. But even Frances worked for Cecily’s +Forest Festival. As for the queen herself, hardly had she unsheathed the +sword of Caritas in behalf of the damsel in distress when she found a +chance to draw it in quite a new direction. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + PHILANTHROPISTS + + +“I BELIEVE this summer at Halcyon’s going to beat the one I spent in +France!” Helen Westover made this assertion, as, ringed about a flat +rock, the campers were beginning a beach-tea at Fairy Cove, where a +bight of silver sand held in its embrace an emerald bay. “Just think of +the short time we’ve been here, and all the fun we’ve squeezed into it!” +she continued, “boating, and bathing and tramps and picnics, a jolly +fishing excursion yesterday, and a _beach-tea_ this evening!” + +“Don’t forget the straw-ride by moonlight,” said Marion Gaylord. + +“Nor the Glorious Fourth, and the fireworks at Hurricane,” added Carol, +who was busy stirring cocoa in the billy. + +“I’m so rushed having a good time, I hardly get a chance to look at my +letters,” said Nancy, pulling an unopened envelope from her belt. “I’ll +read this one after tea,—it isn’t polite to read at table.” + +“Here comes the scrambled egg!—Hold out your plates,” said Grace +Gardner, advancing, chafing-dish in hand. She and Winifred Russell were +the _chefs_ on this occasion. + +Tin plates were held up for their doles of scrambled egg, and tin cups +to receive the steaming cocoa. Cecily and Betty served the lettuce +sandwiches, and Jean and Frances the jumbles; and a delightful supper +party went on while the sun sank low. + +“Now, Nancy, read your letter,” said Mrs. Brook, when the last jumble +had disappeared. + +“I’ll dish-wash for both of us, Nan,” said Carol. She gathered up +Nancy’s plate, cup and spoon, together with her own, and carried them +down to a convenient spot by the water’s edge, where she was joined by +the rest of the dish-washing squad. + +Nancy opened her letter. “Girls, listen to this,” said she to Helen and +Marion, who with Jean were employed near the rock-table, collecting +egg-shells and Japanese doilies. “Here’s my deaconess aunt at me again +to try to make me good! I know she’s worried about me, because she +thinks I’m going to be a giddy butterfly all my life! Now, Motherling,” +she added, turning to Mrs. Brook, “you’ll have to tell me how to answer +this.” And she read: + + _My dearest Nancy_, + + You were a good girl to write to your auntie and send her such a + vivid description of the happy life at Halcyon. Of course it set me + to thinking how I could make use of my niece. Now, Nan, please look + about and see if you cannot find a kind, motherly woman, who would + take a little girl of six to board for the summer. She is a little + Irish child. Her name is Nanno Donohoe, and I must tell you how she + comes to be a protégée of mine. + + The first time I saw her she was fighting with a small Italian boy, + who had taken away her stick of candy. He was a year or two older + than she, but Nanno was having the best of it when I separated them. + I calmed the baby fury, and was rewarded by a most cherubic smile; + and the next time I came that way Nanno flew to meet me. Poor little + mite! She has a wretched home, and a worthless, intemperate father; + and her life is spent on the streets, where she roams at her own + sweet will. I am most anxious to take the child out of her miserable + surroundings for the summer. She needs to be with some kind-hearted + woman who could give her a mother’s care; and if such a person is to + be found at Halcyon, I will bring Nanno up there myself, for I start + next Monday for Lake Placid, where I am to spend part of my + vacation. I am hungry to see you again, Nan dear, and I am sure that + if you see my little Nanno she will win your heart. I am going to + ask you to help me, next winter, by interesting yourself in her. + + I must say good-by, now, and go out on my round of visits. But you + will let me hear from you early, will you not? + + Your loving aunt, + MARY NEWCOMB. + +“No, Auntie, dearest, I will _not_ do charity work next winter! I’ll be +entirely too busy _coming out_!” Nancy protested. “But I’ll try to hunt +up a kind, motherly somebody. Do you know of such an article, Mrs. +Brook?” + +“Poor little Nanno! I wish I did!” said the camp-mother. “But you see +there are so few farms around here, and I know there’s no good place for +her in the village. Mrs. Penfield is the only person I can think of whom +I would trust to take proper care of the child,—and she has her hands +full with her own big family and her invalid mother. But we won’t give +up hope. I shall make every inquiry.” + +“I should hate to tell Auntie I’m no good, as usual,” said Nancy. “Oh, +dear, if there ever was a lazy, selfish, good-for-nothing little brute, +it’s Nancy Newcomb!” + +Jean had stopped clearing the premises to listen to the letter. “Why +can’t we have her _here_ with us?” she asked impetuously. + +“Oh, Jean, don’t crowd any more of us on poor Mrs. Brook!” said Nancy. + +“Jean, dear,” said Mrs. Brook, “if I were alone here with Cecily, I +would take the child myself gladly. But, you see, I have twenty +daughters to look after. I shouldn’t have a minute left for the care of +Nanno!” + +“But _I_ could take care of her!” said Jean. + +“_You_, liebchen!” Fräulein exclaimed. “I tink all de care vould come on +_me_. I should haff to keep your baby and you, too, from falling into de +lake!” She laughed and patted Jean’s hand. + +Jean colored and said no more. Presently she strolled off along the +beach, deep in thought. When she returned, the dish-washing was over, +and the girls had drawn up in a circle for games and songs. + +“Dreamy Queenie, what is it,—a new poem?” asked Carol, as the lone +wanderer threw herself down on the sand, with her head in her Big +Sister’s lap. But Jean did not care to discuss her thoughts before so +large an audience. + +A merry hour was passed, while the sun went down and twilight fell; and +when the evening star shone forth the boats were launched and the +campers glided back in the gloaming. + +That night, as they were preparing for bed, Jean opened her heart to her +tent-mates about Nanno Donohoe. “Now, girls,” she said, “I have a +perfectly fine plan! I’ve been wild to tell you all the evening! Let’s +adopt Nanno as the Silver Sword baby, and have her come here, and take +care of her all summer! She can sleep right here in our tent,—there’s +plenty of room for an extra cot. And we’ll do everything for her +ourselves, so your mother won’t have any bother at all, Cece.” + +“Let’s do it!” cried Frances. “It’ll be lots of fun!” + +“Oh, no! She’d be always tagging,” Betty objected, wrinkling up her nose +in distaste. “And we couldn’t possibly make her mind. I tried to manage +my little cousin, once, and that was enough, thank you!” + +“But all four of us together,” began Jean. + +“My, dear, we couldn’t do it!” Betty declared. “What do _we_ know about +bringing up children? Why we’re not much more than children ourselves!” + +Cecily looked doubtful. “It would be ever so nice if we _could_ do such +a thing,” said she. “I love little tots! But I know just how it would +end. Mother’d simply take all the care herself. She wouldn’t trust us to +manage right, and she’d worry for fear we were losing our vacation, and +she’d insist on doing it all, and it would tire her out!” + +“But we wouldn’t let her, Cecily,” cried Jean. “_We_’d insist on doing +it all. We wouldn’t let her tire herself one bit!” + +“We couldn’t help ourselves,—she’d do it just the same,” said Cecily +positively. “You don’t know Mammykins as I do.” + +The argument lasted till they were in bed, but neither could sympathy be +awakened in Betty, nor could Cecily, already beginning to share her +mother’s household cares, be brought around to her queen’s point of +view. + +“We could do it perfectly well, without your mother having any bother at +all, if you and Betty had any gumption!” was Jean’s last remark as, much +disappointed, she settled herself to sleep. “I’m going to talk about it +to Carol in the morning, anyway,” she thought, refusing to give up all +hope of carrying out her cherished project. + +But next day, before Jean found a chance to consult her, Carol, with +several other girls, drove off to Crystal Lake Junction to get some +necessary materials for the forest festival. After the swimming hour, +Jean caught Frances making up her favorite “apple-pie beds” for her +tent-mates, and chased the Mouse out of doors and into the woods. There +the two climbed into a tree where Douglas had set up perches. + +“I don’t care!” said Jean, as they rested among the green boughs. “I +think it’s too mean of Cece and Betty not to be willing to have that +poor little Nanno!” + +“I think so too,” agreed Frances, drawing a cookie from the front of her +sailor blouse. + +“She must be so dear,—just six!” Jean went on. “We could take care of +her perfectly well. I could do it all myself,—I know I could. I don’t +care what Fräulein says! I’m going to talk it up with Carol. I’ll tell +her I’ll take all the care if she’ll help get her up here, and I’m sure +she will—she’s so fond of children.” + +“You don’t need Carol. _I_’ll help you,” said Frances. + +“Oh, will you, Miss Apple-pie Beds!” + +“Why, of course I will. You needn’t think _you_’re the only one that +wants to do good, Giraffe! _I_ belong to the Silver Sword just as much +as you do! And I’m going to give up my life to good works. I’ve always +done _bad_ works before, but I’m going to _change_!” said Frances +solemnly. + +“Oh, yes! Much _you_’ll change!” laughed Jean. Frances nibbled the edge +of her cookie with her front teeth, trimming off the circumference +neatly, and her face had a new expression—one of serious intent. +Suddenly her black eyes danced. + +“Oh, Jean!” she cried. “I have a dandy idea! Let’s club together, just +you and me, and write to Nancy’s aunt to send Nanno up! We’ll pay for it +all, and adopt her between us.” + +Jean was suspicious as to the extent of her maid-of-honor’s earnestness, +but she needed a helper; and to persuade Frances to do any Silver Sword +work at all would be in itself an achievement. + +“Frisk, we can! Let’s do it!” she said. “I know you just want to for a +lark, but _I_’m in dead earnest!” + +“So am I,” said the Mouse gravely. + +“Well, if you’ll club together with me, we can do it as easy as +anything,” said Jean. “We can manage her perfectly, if you’ll behave +yourself.” + +“Look here,” said Frances. “We must keep it a dead secret till we have +her here, and then we’ll spring her on the crowd!” + +“We mustn’t do anything of the kind. We’d get ourselves into an awful +scrape! We’ll have to ask permission, of course. I’m going to speak to +Mrs. Brook about it as soon as she gets back from the Hamiltons’. Now +let’s count up and see if we have money enough. I have four dollars, and +I get five more the first of August.” + +“I’ve spent all my allowance,” said Frances. “But I have the money for +my fare home again. I’ll use that. They’ll have to send me some more +then,—they can’t leave me up here all winter!” + +“Then I’ll have another five in September,” said Jean. “Why, Frisk, +we’ll have a bouncing fund! Now let’s get the letter written. I’ll get +some paper and a pen, and we can do it all up right here!” Jean lowered +herself to the ground, and when she re-climbed the tree Carol’s fountain +pen was in her hair, and a pad of note-paper between her teeth. + +“I don’t believe she’ll mind pad paper, do you?” said she. “It was all I +could find. I’m sure deaconesses don’t care about silly little things +like that.” + +“No, she’d _rather_ have it plain,” said Frances. “You’ll have to write +it,—you’re an author!” + +“Oh, dear! How do I begin?” sighed Jean. “I don’t know whether you ought +to say, ‘Dear Deaconess,’ or ‘Dear Miss Newcomb,’ or ‘Dear Sister Mary.’ +Aren’t deaconesses _Sisters_?” + +“You ought to say, ‘Right Reverend,’” said Frances. + +“You say ‘Right Reverend’ to _bishops_, goose!” laughed Jean. + +“I never spoke to a bishop,” said the Mouse. + +“Well, I’ll say, ‘Dear Deaconess.’ Here goes!” and Jean wrote it down. +“Um-m! What now? We ought to tell her who we are, oughtn’t we?” + +“Say ‘We are a Mouse and a Giraffe,’” said Frances. Jean shrieked, then +groaned. “Oh, pshaw! The old pen’s leaked all over my fingers! Now, +Frisk, behave yourself! This is _serious_. If we don’t express it right, +she’ll think we’re babies, and she won’t trust us.” + +Jean frowned over her page, but was soon ready with— + + _My dear Deaconess_, + + We are two of the girls of Mrs. Brook’s camp. We are very sorry for + poor little Nanno Donohoe. We wish to have her come here, and we + will keep her all summer. We will take all the care of her and pay + her expenses, and I, Jean, will be responsible for her. + +“Say, ‘And I, Frances, will make her my heir,’” said the Mouse. + +“I won’t!” + +“I’ll put it in myself, then!” + +“You sha’n’t! Let go of the pen! Oh, now, look! You made me blot it. Now +don’t cut up, but _think_! Let me see,—‘We send ten dollars for her fare +up.’” + +“No, child! That isn’t business-y a bit! Say, ‘Enclosed please find.’” + +“That isn’t bad,” Jean assented, and she wrote: + + Enclosed please find ten dollars for her fare up. Please be sure to + let her come, for we promise to do our very best to take good care + of her. + +“How shall I finish it up? ‘Yours sincerely?’ That doesn’t sound right +to a deaconess. I’ll say, ‘Respectfully yours.’” + +“No, say, ‘Your obedient servants,’” Frances advised. + +“No, ma’am! Stop making fun of everything, will you! There! Sign your +name, and don’t write ‘Frisky Mouse.’” + +“I _will_.” But instead, the Mouse discreetly added, ‘Frances E. Browne’ +to the ‘Jean Lennox.’ + +“Now for the address,” said Jean. “I saw the letter from the deaconess +on Nan’s bed when I went for the pen, and the address was stamped on +it.” They went down together to examine the envelope, and Jean directed +her own, refusing to put ‘Rev.’ before ‘Deaconess Newcomb,’ as Frances +insisted was correct. They set aside the ten dollars for Nanno’s +travelling expenses; then, leaving the letter on Jean’s pincushion, they +strolled out, talking over their plan. + +“There’s Motherling now, and Rose Hamilton. I wonder what Rose has got +in that big basket,” said Jean. + +“Here’s my contribution to the festival,” called Rose. Jean ran to meet +her, and together they went into the bungalow to unpack the basket. +Frances, meanwhile, returned to her tent. Half an hour later Jean came +out and found Frances swinging in the hammock. + +“Frisk,” she said, “Let’s ask Motherling right away.” + +“No use speaking _now_, because I’ve _sent_ it!” replied Frances. + +“Sent the letter! Frances Browne! What do you mean?” + +“Yes’m, I’ve sent it,” said the Mouse. “The grocer’s boy was here just +now, so I put in the ten dollars and gave it to him to mail. We can’t +get it back now—he was going right down to the village.” + +“Frisky,—you sinner!” + +“We’d have been stopped off if I’d waited for you to tell,” said Frances +calmly. “I corrected the address—I put in the ‘Rev.’” + +“Oh, Frances! You’ve spoiled it all! She’ll think we’re idiots!” + +For a moment Jean stared in dismay at her colleague in good works; then +she dropped down on the grass in a spasm of hysterical laughter. “I +don’t care! I’m glad it’s gone!” she declared. “They can’t have the +heart to stop her, now she’s invited!” Suddenly she grew serious. “We’ll +have a nice time, now, owning up, Miss Mouse!” + +“If we have any sense we won’t own up till she gets here,” the +diplomatic Mouse responded. + +“If we have any sense we’ll own up right straight off!” said Jean. “We +_must_ tell.” + +“Oh, priggy! you make me sick and tired!” said Frances. “We’re in the +scrape, and for pity’s sake let’s get a little fun out of it! _I_’m not +going to tell, anyway; and if you go and say _I_ mailed the letter, +you’ll be mean!” + +“I won’t say _you_ mailed it. I’ll leave you to speak for yourself, if +you’re not too much of a ’fraid-cat! I’ll say the letter got mailed, and +I’ll refuse to tell how.” + +“Well, don’t you suppose, if you go and say that, they’ll guess who +mailed it? They’ll know a goody-goody like _you_ wouldn’t do it.” + +“This isn’t goody-goody, child,—it’s common sense!” said Jean. + +“Well, Nanno won’t get here, then—that’s all there is about it!” +declared Frances, anxious to delay the hour of retribution. “Wait till +she gets here, and then here she _is_, and they can’t pack her off home +again!” + +“They’ll pack _us_ off, then!” said Jean. “I can’t help it if they do +stop her from coming,—it would be downright sneaky not to tell.” + +“Oh, priggetty-prig!” grumbled Frances, but her sovereign was armed with +the golden shield of Veritas, and there was no altering the royal +decree. + +As Jean was turning away toward the bungalow the carriage drove up, +bringing home the party of shoppers. Carol alighted, to find Jean with a +knitted brow. + +“What’s happened to you, Queenie?” she asked. “You look as if the cares +of state were too much for you!” + +“Carolie, I’m in an awful scrape,” whispered Jean. She drew Carol to a +safe nook under the trees, and her confession, ending with “and the +letter got mailed,” sent her friend off into a peal of laughter. + +“Go ahead, Queen of the Silver Sword!” cried Carol. “You’re doing nobly! +There won’t be a corner of the world left to better, pretty soon, if you +keep on at this glorious rate! Bring on your orphan asylum, and put me +in as assistant matron! _There_’s the person that mailed the letter!” +she added, pointing to Frances, who was peeping around a tree. + +“I couldn’t think of anything but saving that poor neglected child!” +said Frances solemnly. + +“_You_ couldn’t think of anything but scala-waggery!” Carol retorted. +“Well, you’re in a pretty pickle, you two, but I’ll do my best to help +you out of it. Come along and throw yourselves on the Motherling’s +mercy!” She escorted the culprits up to the bungalow veranda, where +their summer sisters and the camp-mother were awaiting the call to +dinner. + +“Motherling, we have a confession to make,” said Carol. + + “The Queen of the Silver Sword wrote a letter, + All on a summer’s day. + The knave of the Silver Sword stole that letter, + And sent it far away! + +“Out with it, your majesty!” + +Then Jean and Frances made a joint confession. + +“Oh, you monkeys!” exclaimed Nancy, laughing till the tears rolled down +her cheeks. But Mrs. Brook looked grave. “My dear children,” she said, +“didn’t you know you should have spoken to me before you even _wrote_ +the letter? Frances, it was a great breach of good manners to send off +an invitation, asking a guest to my house, without my permission!” + +Jean turned scarlet, and Frances gazed meekly at her shoes. + +“Well, what’s to be done about it?” asked Carol. + +“It would be too bad to disappoint Miss Newcomb now,” said Mrs. Brook. +“But if Nanno comes, Jean and Frances must take care of her as they +promised.” + +“Of course! That’s what I meant to do,” said Jean gratefully. “You won’t +have one bit of trouble.” + +“Oh, my reverend aunt, won’t she be ecstatic!” cried Nancy. “She’ll +dance a horn-pipe and say ‘that sweet Frances and Jean are cut out for +deaconesses!’” + +The camp-mother looked at the group of laughing girls. “All the rest of +my daughters will be ready to welcome the little one, will they not?” +she asked. + +“We’d be a pack of selfish old maids if we weren’t!” said Carol. “It’ll +be jolly to have a little tottie like that to cuddle! Let’s have her for +our mascot! And let’s organize ourselves into a regiment of nursery +maids and help along. I trust Francie-Prancie not to wear herself out +over her maternal cares, but I’m afraid Queenie’ll work off the one +pound she’s gained. Come now,—all in favor of the Camp Baby—!” Before +she could finish the formula seventeen merry voices came out with a +unanimous “Ay!” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + THE CAMP BABY + + +“If your majesty thinks Betty and I are going to let you and Frisky take +all the care of Nanno, you’re mightily mistaken,” said Cecily, when the +adoption of Nanno Donohoe had been agreed upon. “We’ll do half the work, +won’t we, Betsy? She’s going to be the Silver Sword baby just as much as +the Camp Baby, isn’t she?” + +“Oh, yes, I suppose we’ll have to help along,” said Betty lazily. “We’re +in for it now! But you won’t catch Frisk doing anything except teach her +monkey-shines,—I can tell you that!” + +In the afternoon, while the Mouse was listening to a severe lecture from +Fräulein Bunsen, Nancy dispatched a letter to her aunt, endorsing the +invitation, and two days later Jean and Frances received a note +containing thanks that came straight from Miss Newcomb’s grateful heart. +On the following Tuesday, the deaconess said, she and her little charge +would reach Crystal Lake Junction, and before going on to Lake Placid +she would give Nanno over to her niece, who had promised to be there to +meet the Camp Baby. + +Tuesday came, and just before tea-time Jean, Betty, Cecily and Frances +were strolling up and down, watching impatiently for the arrival of the +carriage with Miss Hamersley, Nancy and the little guest of Camp +Huairarwee. Presently Jean’s cry, “They’re coming!” brought together a +welcoming group of girls. + +The carriage stopped in front of the bungalow. “Here’s your baby!” said +Douglas who was driving. “She’s been asleep most of the way over. Wake +up, Nanno!” He dropped the reins and lifted a bundle which had been +lying half on the front seat and half on his lap. A small face became +visible, and they heard a sleepy sigh and murmur. + +“She’s a perfect love!” said Nancy, springing down from the back seat. + +“I’ll get down and lift her out,” said Douglas. + +“No, I’ll take her!” + +“No, give her to _me_!” + +“Ah, no, give her to _me_!” + +Carol, Eunice and Marion, who stood nearest, all stretched out their +arms at once. + +“Here we go, baby! That’s the way!” And Douglas put Nanno into the +nearest pair of arms, which happened to be Carol’s. “I’ll carry her in +for you,” he said, jumping down. “No, no, you sha’n’t have her!” +returned Carol. “Oh, you baby-kitten! You darling, little, sleepy +thing!” She carried Nanno into the bungalow, the other girls following, +and the living-room at once became the scene of homage. + +Carol seated herself in an armchair with Nanno on her lap, and Cecily +and Jean went down on their knees before the wicker throne. + +“Isn’t she the duckiest!” said Nancy. “Now we’ll have Big Nan and Little +Nan!” and down she knelt too. The others pressed as close as they could, +and there, amid her cluster of admirers, Nanno awoke. + +Various had been the portraits of the camp baby drawn by the fancy of +the girls; but no one had pictured Nanno as she really was,—a perfect +little _Mavourneen_. She had long black lashes, and they lifted and fell +and lifted again, showing the company two big Irish blue eyes. Her thick +black hair tumbled about her neck in waves and rings. She had a +bewitching noselet, a wide rosy mouth with dimples at the corners, and a +dimple in her pretty chin. Her cheeks were flushed from her nap, and her +skin had a lovely baby softness,—for not even six years of life in the +midst of dirt and neglect had been able to destroy the bloom of this +little Irish flower. Mavourneen stretched her arms and yawned and sat +up, blinking at the strange world into which she had awakened. The +corners of her mouth went up in the sunniest fashion, her dimples grew +deeper, and then a soft, little, musical voice inquired, “Where’s de +feller?” + +“The fellow who brought you here?” asked Carol. “Why, he’s gone to take +the horse to bed, but you’ll see him again to-morrow morning.” + +Nanno tipped her head on one side. “He’s awful nice,” she murmured. + +“You little coquette!” cried Carol, giving her a squeeze. + +Nanno saw people laughing and concluded that this new world was at least +a cheerful one. Her smile broadened, and she gave a chuckle. Then she +nestled her head back in the hollow of Carol’s shoulder, looked up with +her happy blue eyes and asked, “Is you Miss Jean?” + +“No, sweetheart, I’m Miss Carol. _That_’s Miss Jean, and that’s Miss +Frances. They’re giving the money so you can be here. Isn’t that lovely +of them?” + +“And you’re going to have a fine time, Nanno, and lots and lots of fun,” +said Jean. + +“Nanno, you are my daughter,” said Frances. “You must call me Mother +Browne.” But Nanno declined with a gentle shake of her head. “Ah, g’wan! +I’m me own mommer’s goil,” she answered. + +“You’re our baby, though, you precious lamb. You’re the Camp Baby!” said +Cecily, and an indignant little voice remonstrated, “I _ain’t_ a baby! +I’m six, goin’ on siven!” + +“Where did you get that pretty dress, Nanno?” asked Marion. + +“De Sister give it to me. She gimme lots o’ clo’s yisterday. See me new +shoes, an’ me hat,—an’ me cawt, ain’t it lovully!” + +“Beautiful!” they assured her. + +Amelie, the little Canadian waitress, came in just then with a tray. “I +bring de bébé she’s supper. I tink she lak to have heem now,” said she +in her odd Canuck dialect. + +“Let _me_ give her her supper,” said Jean. “I want to make friends with +her.” + +“Well, if you give her her supper, I’ll put her to bed,” said Betty, who +had lost her heart the instant those big blue eyes had looked into hers. + +“I’ll dress her in the morning,” said Cecily. + +“I can dress mesilf an’ me baby too! I don’t need nobody to dress _me_,” +said Nanno. + +“Who’s your baby? Your little brother?” asked Eunice, and the musical +voice cried, “Sure!” + +Carol set the independent little woman in a chair at the table before +the tray of cream toast, milk, and sugared raspberries; and while the +others went off to prepare for their own supper Jean and Cecily stayed +to wait upon Nanno. + +“Wot’s dis?” the little girl inquired, and she looked critically at the +contents of her soup plate. + +“That’s nice milk-toast. There’s your spoon. Now see how good it is,” +said Cecily. + +Nanno took a generous mouthful and ate it thoughtfully, after which she +plunged her spoon into the raspberries. + +“Oh, eat your toast first, dear!” Cecily remonstrated. Nanno peacefully +swallowed her berries almost whole and took another spoonful of her +dessert. + +“Don’t you like your toast?” asked Jean. + +“Nope,” replied Nanno. Then, with a smile which said “But be consoled, +my friends,” she added, “I like _thim_,” and shovelled up another +spoonful of raspberries. + +“But you’ll like your toast with lots of _sugar_ on it!” said Jean, and +the despised dish, thickly snowed over, agreed with Nanno’s palate. + +“You want to drink your milk too, dear,” Cecily reminded her, and she +held up the glass invitingly. + +“I drink _tea_!” said Nanno. + +“Tea!” exclaimed Jean. “Why, Nanno, that’s dreadful for you! It’ll make +you grow all yellow like a Chinaman!” + +Nanno did not seem alarmed, for she proudly informed them, “Me baby +drinks tea too.” + +“Your baby brother!” gasped Cecily. + +“Horrors! how old is he?” cried Jean. + +“Five munts.” + +“Wive months, and drinks tea!” Jean fairly shrieked. “Why, Cece, won’t +he kill himself?” + +“He might as well take poison!” declared Cecily. + +“Have you any other little brothers or sisters?” asked Jean. + +“Me sister Katy.” + +“How old’s Katy?” + +“Dunno. She’s dead.” + +“Oh, is she dead? Poor little Katy!” Jean was disconcerted to have +brought up a family sorrow; but Nanno seemed to find pleasure in +reminiscence. + +“She died of ammonia,” she explained, Jean and Cecily looked at each +other and bit their lips. + +“We had a wake an’ candles!” Nanno went on. “It was awful pretty! An’ I +rode in a carriage to the funeral! I like funerals.” + +“You cunning thing!” laughed Jean. “_You_ didn’t have ‘ammonia,’ did +you?” + +“Nope,” said Nanno regretfully, and added brightening, “But me toofs is +fallin’ out!” She opened her mouth and displayed a hole being filled up +with a coming white tooth. Then she fell into a revery over her toast. + +“Do you think she’s getting h-o-m-e-s-i-c-k?” asked Jean anxiously. + +“No, I think she’s only sleepy,” replied Cecily. + +“I think I’ll get the d-o-l-l, anyway,” said Jean. She ran to their tent +and came back with the doll, to buy which a ten-miles drive had been +taken. It was the largest the shop had afforded,—a staring blonde, in a +scarlet dress and toque made by Cecily. + +“Aw! ain’t she lovully!” Nanno jumped down from her chair and received +the gay beauty into her arms. She cuddled it, gazed at it, kissed it, +and talked to it in her soft brogue, her smile stretching nearly to her +little pink ears, and nothing less than love-light in her blue eyes. +“Aw, look at her shoes! Look at her stockin’s! Aw, she’s got a petticawt +wid lace!” + +“What are you going to name her?” asked Jean. + +“Katy,” replied Nanno promptly. “She’s goin’ to have a wake an’ lots an’ +lots of candles!” + +But Nanno was too sleepy to hold a _wake_ that night, and the black +lashes were dropping again by the time that Betty and Frances, Nancy and +Carol, came to put her to bed in the tiny bedroom of the bungalow where +Amelie, too, was to sleep and be the night-guardian of the camp baby. + +“She’s as good as gold. We’re not going to have a bit of trouble with +her,” said Betty, the Sandman having rendered Nanno a docile cherub. + +“She’s a little rascal!” was Jean’s verdict, however, when she and +Cecily had labored for nearly an hour over their baby’s toilet the next +morning. Nanno had awakened with opinions of her own, strongly +prejudiced against the cold sponge bath to which Jean tried to entice +her; firmly resolved to dress herself without assistance, and vehemently +objecting to having a comb brought in contact with her tangled curls. + +“Nanno, which would you rather be? A nice, clean, pretty little girl, or +a piggy?” Jean had solemnly demanded, and Nanno’s unhesitating choice +had been the “piggy.” Alas, for the queen of the Silver Sword and her +bright dream of bringing up a daughter of the order! Alas, for the +princess of the Treasure, who had triumphantly robed the camp baby in +her nightgown, and who, before twenty-four hours were over, was reduced +to offering bribes of cookies and fudge to bring Nanno to obedience! + +It soon became clear that the one person in the whole camp of whom Nanno +stood in awe, the only one for whose mandates she cared a pin, was Mrs. +Brook. For her own lawful guardians, and the regiment of nursery maids, +she had no reverence whatever. Jean, Cecily and Betty coaxed, pleaded +and threatened. Little Miss Independence listened with her head on one +side, dimpling mouth, and roguery in her eyes, and proceeded to carry +out her own little plans unless withheld by main force. Frances looked +on at the struggles of her friends with the serenity of a Buddha, always +ready to encourage them with: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try +again!” but shamelessly refusing to take her share of the good work, +though Jean scolded, and even shook the faithless co-guardian. + +Jean’s cares might have proved too much for even her determined spirit, +if Mrs. Brook had not come to the rescue and provided Nanno with a +companion of suitable age. Little Leila Myra Penfield, who lived on a +farm near by,—received a standing invitation to come to the camp and +play with Nanno. Leila Myra quickly succumbed to Mavourneen’s tyranny, +and acted as if the little Irish witch had cast a spell upon her; for no +matter how often she departed in tears, leaving Nanno victorious after a +quarrel, she was back again the next day. The two children had gone to +housekeeping under the trees one hot afternoon. Eunice, reading in the +hammock near by, heard an indignant “Le’ go! It’s mine!” and looked up +to see the six-year-old hostess and her guest fighting for the +possession of the doll’s go-cart. She went to arbitrate, but Nanno met +her argument that Leila Myra was _company_, with the counter-argument, +“De go-cart’s _mine_!” So Eunice knelt down with an arm around each +claimant and explained the Golden Rule in alluring terms. “And now,” she +ended, “we’ll see which little girl is going to have the pleasure of +giving up to the other.” She returned to her book confident that there +would henceforth be harmony. Presently a pitiful wail, followed by the +rattling of the go-cart, made her glance up again. Leila Myra was +retiring in tears to the kitchen, to be consoled by Amelie, and Nanno +was gleefully cantering along dragging her property after her. + +“Miss Unie, dear!” called the camp baby. “Leila Myra’s had the pleasure +of givin’ up to me!” + +“Isn’t she as good as a circus!” said Nancy, when Eunice reported her +success as a peacemaker to her tent-mates. + +The mist hung over the lake, and the hills were looking out of +cloud-blankets the next morning when, soon after dawn, Miss Hamersley +stood on the shore with the four battle maids, watching Douglas and +Jack, each with a guide-boat, pulling for the dock. They were to row to +the foot of Eagle Cliff and climb the hill in time to see the sunrise. +Miss Hamersley, Frances and Cecily put off in Jack’s boat, and Jean and +Betty followed with Douglas. Jean had just taken up the long green +paddle to steer, when they heard a gleeful little shout from the land. +Looking back they saw a scarlet-robed fairy dancing gaily down the bank. + +“There’s Nanno!” groaned Jean and Betty together. + +Nanno it was, arrayed in the red flannel wrapper laboriously made for +her by her guardians, and carrying her doll now divested of clothing. + +“Hello, Pug-nose!” called Douglas. + +“Nanno, go back! Go right straight back to bed again!” cried Jean in +desperation. “Oh, bother! I’ll have to take her back myself!” + +“Katy’s goin’ bathin’!” shouted Nanno, trotting down to the pebbly +strand. + +“Nanno! Go back! Don’t go into the water!—Oh, there she goes! Douglas, +take me back quick!” Douglas backed water, but before they reached the +shore the mischief was done. Nanno had waded out into the ripples, +letting the skirt of her wrapper trail in the lake as she +conscientiously ducked her child. + +“Oh, look at that little rascal! Now I can’t go at all!” said Jean. +“I’ll have to get her dressed as quick as I can.” + +“No, I’ll stay home and dress her this time,” said Betty. “It’s my +turn.” + +“You sha’n’t do it! I promised I’d take care of the little bother and +I’m going to!” answered Jean. + +“We’ll row around a little and come back for you when you’ve dressed +Pug,” said Douglas. + +“No—there’s no use my trying to go anywhere, now she’s awake. You’ll +have to go without me,” returned Jean petulantly. + +“Katy’s gettin’ nice an’ clean, now,—she was awful dirty!” said Nanno, +as the boat hit the dock. + +“You naughty little monkey! I don’t see why you couldn’t have stayed +asleep!” grumbled Jean. “Oh, dear, look at your wrapper! It’s soaking! +And you’ve spoiled your nice worsted slippers!” + +“Dey ain’t spiled,—dey’ll dry,” Nanno assured her placidly. Jean led her +up to the bungalow with the air of an irate nursery-maid, but Nanno was +in a joyous humor, and proved it by all sorts of antics while she was +being dressed. + +“Now stand still and don’t hop! I can’t button a thing! Nanno, if you +don’t behave this minute, I’ll tell Mrs. Brook!” Jean threatened. Nanno +paused on one foot, her head cocked sidewise. + +“Ah, Nanno, if you’ll only be good, I’ll tell you a lovely fairy-story +as soon as you’re dressed,” pleaded Jean. And Nanno yielded to bribery. + +Jean soon had her charge dressed and munching gingersnaps. “Tell me the +story now,” said the child as they strolled out hand in hand. + +“Yes, yes,—I will,” answered Jean. “Let me see—.” She gazed up at the +sky where the silver mist was giving place to rosy clouds. “I’ll tell +you about the Sunrise Fairies. See that great pink cloud, Nanno! That’s +the house where the fairies of the sunrise live.” And her good humor +returned as she invented a tale about the elfin children who played in +the sunrise palace, and sailed through the sky in beautiful cloud boats. + +“Dey sell ice-pie up dere,” Nanno interrupted, with a yearning for the +products of the New York push-carts. + +“Oh, no, they don’t! But they have lovely pink cloud ice cream.” + +“Me an’ you’s goin’ to live up dere,” said Nanno, when the story was +over. “When we get dere, I’ll give you a pink kiss!” + +“Why, Babykins, what’s a pink kiss?” Jean asked. + +“It’s de best kind.” + +“And you’ll give me one? How beautiful!” + +“Yis, an’ I’m goin’ to give Miss Francie a lovully red kiss!” said +Nanno, who had a profound admiration for the Mouse. “An’ I’ll give Miss +Cecy a blue one.” + +“And what will you give Miss Betty?” + +“Oh, dest a white one,—dat’s good enough for _her_.” Nanno had found +Betty less long-suffering than Cecily and Jean. “I’ll give Douglas a red +kiss, an’ a blue kiss, an’ a yeller kiss,—an’ a _green_ kiss!” she +added, loyal to the color of the shamrock. “An’ I’ll give _Fryline_ a +ugly _black_ kiss!” + +“Poor Fräulein!” laughed Jean, recalling the little teacher’s endeavors +to discipline the spoilt pet of the camp. “Aren’t you going to give +anybody but me a _pink_ kiss?” + +Nanno shook her head. “Nope; dey’s all for you, ’cause I love you +_best_.” At this Jean hugged the giver of kisses till she wriggled +herself free. It was worth losing the sunrise excursion to find that she +had won Mavourneen’s heart. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + A MIDSUMMER DAY’S DREAM + + +The Forest Festival came off a few days after Nanno had become an inmate +of Camp Huairarwee. The letters appealing for contributions had been +answered by the arrival of mysterious packages which kept the girls in +constant excitement; and on the eve of the great event two donations +from unexpected sources were handed in. + +“Look what Leila Myra’s mother made for us!” said Jean, running up to +Carol and displaying a worsted disk crocheted in various inharmonious +shades of green, and adorned with a woolly border of loops. + +“What on earth is it?” asked Carol. + +“A lamp mat,” replied Jean. “Isn’t it _excruciating_! It sets my teeth +on edge! Oh, dear!” she laughed. “I nearly broke my shield of truth +trying to send a nice polite message of thanks. I _couldn’t_ say it was +pretty, but I said it was just right for the festival, because it was +green, like moss. That was true, I’m sure!” + +“A lamp mat!” Carol repeated. “Lamp capsizer, I should say, with that +hummocky border! Let’s put it on the fern table and label it, ‘Moss from +the Penfield Farm.’” + +Limpy herself had been deeply interested in the coming festival, little +suspecting for whom its proceeds were intended. When Jean and Cecily +paid her a call that afternoon she showed them a quaint little box, +covered with small fir-cones interspersed with acorns, and the whole +varnished over till it shone. + +“It’s for the festival,” she said shyly. “Douglas made me the box an’ +got the cones an’ acorns, an’ I put ’em on. Do you like it?” She looked +up anxiously. Jean and Cecily were able to pronounce the offering “too +dear for anything,” without risk to their golden shields, and Limpy +colored with pleasure at the compliments her handiwork received. + +“A Midsummer Day’s Dream”—that was what Dr. Hamilton named the Forest +Festival, to which all the other campers on the lake and the guests from +Halcyon Inn came flocking the following afternoon, and from which they +went away laden with all sorts of woodland trophies. The visitors came +by boat and canoe; and when they had paid their admittance fees to +Douglas, who was stationed on the landing, the first hostesses to +welcome them to the forest fairy-land were two water-nymphs, who sat at +the entrance of a grotto, an inviting little nook in the rocks above the +beach. Both were crowned with wreaths of pond-lilies in full bloom, and +their bare necks and arms were adorned with chains and bracelets of lily +stems. Their hair flowed loose over their shoulders, and the nymph with +the long dark locks and the deep blue eyes wore a robe white as the foam +on the crest of a wave; while her sunny-haired, hazel-eyed sister was +all in sea-green, which surely meant that she had come up from the +waters of Huairarwee bay. + +Jean and Cecily had taken nymph-hood on themselves, to serve orange and +raspberry ice and lemonade, and they kept these appropriately watery +delicacies in the cool depths of their grotto. Most beguiling lorelei +they proved themselves. Of the guests that they lured to their retreat +some returned a second, one or two even a third time, and every now and +then a white nymph or a green one would come flying up to the kitchen +(where Marie the cook and her daughters, Amelie and Toinette, were busy +over large freezers) and call “_More ice, please!_” + +Two fairies, the Fern Fairy and the Fruit Fairy, held sway on the top of +the bank. Betty was the Fern Fairy; great plumy ferns covered her white +dress, and her rosy face smiled at her customers from under a wreath of +maidenhair. Before her was a rustic table covered with a bank of moss; +and set forth on the green counter were birch-bark ferneries, big and +little, filled with moss and ferns, with scarlet bunch-berries and +partridge-berries to give them a tinge of brightness. Frances, the Fruit +Fairy, was literally overgrown with blackberry and strawberry vines from +her neck to the hem of her skirt; and on her head was a thimble-berry +crown, the fruit itself, ripe and crimson, peeping out from under its +leaves. Like Betty she had a rustic table covered with moss, but her +wares were blueberries, huckleberries, wild raspberries, and even a few +belated strawberries, to be sold in their birch-bark baskets, or served +in saucers with sugar and cream. + +The older girls had transformed themselves into trees. In a leafy booth +stood Eunice, Nancy, Grace and Winifred, their peaked caps, their belts +and the trimmings of their white gowns made of the bark of the golden +and the silver birch. Eunice and Nancy represented golden birches. +Eunice, with her fair hair fluffing out from under her shining yellow +headdress, was a tall and stately tree, and Nancy was the breeziest +little sapling that ever grew. Grace and Winifred were the silver +birches. The four girls had charge of a table on which was displayed +every imaginable device in birch bark, from glove-boxes to napkin rings; +and they also carried on a brisk traffic in Mrs. Brook’s home-made birch +beer. + +Near by, where the evergreens made a natural bower, stood a table laden +with balsam cushions, a variety of fancy articles and samples of the +girls’ own wood-carving. The pine trees and the balsams presided over +it. Helen and Marion were the pine trees; tufts of pine needles formed +their garlands and, together with cones, trimmed their dresses. Ruth and +Dorothy were the balsams, wearing wreaths and ruffles of spicy balsam +foliage; and it was Ruth, who, having exhibited Limpy’s box and told the +story of its making, sold it to a sympathetic old gentleman for the +extravagant price of five dollars. + +Then came a booth of beech and elder boughs. Here were Hope and Olive, +graceful young beeches, and Katrina and Louise, their gowns decked with +clusters of scarlet elderberries. At their table the classic beech leaf +and glowing elderberry appeared, painted by the camp artists, Marion and +Cecily, on dinner cards and blotters, paper folders and picture frames, +and embroidered on dainty pieces of needlework. + +Gladys, Ethel and Pamela, with their leafy trimmings and coronets, were +pronounced the sweetest of sugar maples, and very popular was _their_ +booth, for their wares were delicious maple-sugar cakes and candies. + +But the queen of the whole forest was Carol, the Christmas tree, and to +her all the children made an instantaneous rush, on landing. The top of +a baby spruce reared itself above her sunny chestnut curls; sprays cut +from spruce saplings adorned her bodice and made her broad collar. +Branches rayed out from her skirt just as the boughs of a good old +Christmas tree should spread; and she shone resplendent with chains and +balls of colored glass and showers of tinsel. At her feet was a basket +full of toys and nicknacks wrapped up in red tissue paper, and being a +most ungenerous and mercenary tree, she allowed no gift to be drawn +until ten cents had been dropped into the Christmas stocking that she +held. + +Flitting hither and thither, and much enamored of the Christmas tree, +was Nanno, who had changed her name to Black-eyed Susan. She was dressed +in bright yellow paper petals, and wore a gigantic paper +black-eyed-susan for a hat. The basket she carried was filled with wild +flowers—daisies, feathery meadow-rue and early asters; and her +irresistible Irish eyes and brogue, as she announced that her posies +were “foive cints a bunce,” caused her wares to vanish so early that she +ran in tears to the sea-nymphs, and had to be consoled with raspberry +ice. + +With fairies and nymphs and lovely tree maidens to welcome them, it was +no wonder that the guests who attended the Forest Festival awoke from +their “Midsummer Day’s Dream” to find their arms full of parcels and +their purses light. Court was destined to awake absolutely penniless. He +bought souvenirs from every table; he would have had far more than his +share of toys had not the Christmas tree warded him off with a prickly +branch; and he kept sending back his sherbet glass to be refilled with +ices till Cecily declared: “You sha’n’t have another spoonful, or there +won’t be any left for other people! You’re worse than Jack!” His sister +Rose, beholding his increasing bundles, ironically inquired whether he +expected their great-aunt, Miss Van Courtlandt, to pay his bills for +him; but her sarcasm only incited him to purchase the Penfield lampmat. + +“My, oh, my! That’s the thing to bring a tip from Aunt Sarah!” Court +exclaimed, lifting the woolly green horror from Betty’s fern table. +“I’ll send it to her for a present, and tell her I made it for her! Now +I can afford to spend my last ten cents on the Christmas tree! Hooray! +I’ll be a millionaire!” + +Court went home with the lamp mat pinned on his coat for a rosette. He +paid Camp Huairarwee another call, however, as the twilight was falling +and the girls were watching for Douglas to return after his supper to +build their camp-fire. + +“Douglas will be a little late this evening,” said Court. “He had +something to attend to, so I thought I’d offer my services to start your +fire. Have you counted up the money yet?” + +“Yes,” Jean answered triumphantly, “and we’ve cleared seventy-three +dollars and forty-nine cents! Of course we raised it to seventy-five.” + +“Good!” said Court. “Now, when I’m hard up I can borrow from Miss Stella +Olympia.” + +To celebrate their success he made alarming inroads on Mrs. Brook’s +woodpile, and built the girls a magnificent bonfire. The flames were +just beginning to leap high, when Jean, glancing out over the lake, +exclaimed, “For pity’s sake what _is_ that _creature_?” + +The others followed her gaze. An extraordinary and gigantic monster, +shadowy and mysterious in the dusk, had entered the bay and was swimming +toward their beach. + +“What under the moon and canopy!” cried Carol. + +“It’s the weirdest thing I ever saw in my life!” said Marion. “It’s +positively scary!” + +“It’s alive!” cried Betty. + +“It’s spouting fire!” exclaimed Cecily. + +“It’s a fiery dragon! It is! It is!” cried Jean. “Look at its snaky +tail!” + +“Oh, dear!” Frances, lamented. “I’m going to be gobbled up, and my mammy +and my daddy won’t know what’s become of me! I knew I was too good to +live!” + +“It has a dorsal fin!” said Nancy. “Girls, it’s a sea-serpent!” + +“Oh, joy!” said Carol. “The plesiosaurus has been sighted at last by +creditable witnesses! He’s a cultured and enlightened plessy, with a +fire in his jaws to roast us nicely before he swallows us.” + +“He’s a vertebrate, whatever else he is!” said Eunice. “There’s a spinal +column for you!” + +The colossal vertebrate was fully a hundred feet long, and to the eyes +of the girls his jointed tail looked at least twice that length. He had +a superb dorsal fin, and his monstrous head was upreared high above the +water. His eyes shone with red fire, his jaws were thrown wide, and he +was breathing out flames and smoke. + +“He’s glaring at us with his fiery eyes!” said Jean. + +“He’s a sea-serpent with a vengeance!” said Helen. “Look! He’s turning +this way! He’s making straight for us!” + +“A real sea-serpent! How jolly!” cried Cecily. “We’ll get Court to tame +him, and have him for a pet! Court’s so set up by his conquest of +Cyclone, I know he’ll do it for us! Break him to twenty side-saddles, +Court, won’t you?” + +“Cease, Cece, babbling Brook!” replied Court. “You little know what this +appearance means for you campers! Don’t you realize that this +sea-serpent proves an underground connection between Halcyon Lake and +the ocean? And now we shall have all sorts of dangerous things coming in +from the Atlantic,—sharks and sword-fish and octopuses! No more bathing +in the lake for you girls! No more boating! We hold your lives too +precious!” + +“And you stand there smiling serenely, with your arms folded!” cried +Carol. “Don’t you know your duty is to dive down and stuff up the subway +entrance with the things you’ve been buying to-day? They’d plug it so +watertight the slimmest eel couldn’t get through! You might at least get +that lamp mat to hurl down the monster’s throat and poison him with the +Paris green!” + +“I have too much regard for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to +Animals!” Court protested. “He won’t bite though. See, he’s wagging his +tail,—he’s pleased!” + +With his mighty tail rocking to and fro in the rough water, the +fire-breathing sea-serpent came swimming through the bay with the +evident intention of reposing his snaky form somewhere upon the pebbly +strand. Roderick Dhu, faithful to his duty as guardian of the camp, +rushed up and down in a frenzy of barking. + +“Mother must see it!” cried Cecily. + +“Call Bunny and Miss Hamersley too!” said Carol. + +“Get Marie and Amelie and Toinette!” added Jean. + +Cecily ran up to the bungalow and came back with all the other members +of the camp. + +The saurian reached the land off Camp-fire Rock, and lay in the rippling +water panting out flames in an exhausted manner, and writhing all down +the length of his spinal column, which, when viewed at close range, bore +a singular resemblance to canoes lashed together and covered with dark +green paper muslin. + +“Poor dear, he’s tired out! Let’s help him up on shore and put a collar +and bells on him! He’ll make a lovely pet!” laughed Jean. + +“Come and let’s dissect him,” said Carol. “I suspect we’ll find his +brains in his neck instead of in his head.” + +Heedless of soaked shoes, the girls stepped into the water to examine +the anatomy of the sea-serpent. The head was mounted on a rowboat, and, +concealed behind the giant cranium, were Jack and Douglas. + +“He swallowed us!” Douglas explained. “That’s why I couldn’t get up in +time to start your fire.” + +“We stuck in his throat, though,” said Jack. + +“I suppose you went down so quick you hadn’t time to catch fire in his +mouth!” said Cecily. + +“He’s a noble animal!” exclaimed Nancy, surveying the monster’s head +with its round eyes and gaping jaws, in which the fire was dying down. +“I hope you appreciate the honor of being swallowed by him. What a +stunning fin he has! He’s a regular charmer!” + +“He’s an awful blockhead, though,” said Douglas, tapping the wooden +skull. + +“Look at his mouth!” said Jean. “It’s an old wash boiler!” + +“He’d have got burned up if we hadn’t given him a tin mouth,” said +Douglas. + +“Look at those tin pails stuck in for his eyes!” said Betty. + +“What is he?” asked Eunice. “What’s his scientific name?” + +“He’s a full-blooded megalodonto-bronto-sauriosticos,” replied Jack. + +“Rose said you boys were up till midnight yesterday, and were all +late for breakfast this morning,” said Cecily. “Did the +megalo-what’s-his-name have anything to do with it?” + +“The _tale_ of last night’s experiences is longer than the +sea-serpent’s,” said Jack, shaking his head reflectively. + +“Do make meggy spout some more flames,” said Frances. And at her request +the megalo-donto-bronto-sauriosticos breathed forth the last of the red +fire saved from the Fourth of July. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + THE BATTLE MAID + + +Of the Stella Olympia Relief Fund it was decided to place $65 in the +savings bank. The morning after the Festival the campers took Limpy the +remaining ten, the sum of a doctor’s bill, long unpaid. A more +astonished lass and a happier was not to be found in the United States, +but for fear of giving her too much excitement the girls made their +visit a short one, Jean promising to come again on the following +afternoon. + +The next day Carol and her classmates went with Miss Hamersley on a +tally-ho party to Deer Lake, as the guests of Mrs. Clinton of Big Pine +Camp. After dinner Mrs. Brook took Cecily and Betty on a marketing +expedition to a farm twelve miles away, Douglas driving them in a +buckboard. While they were gone some of the girls held a tennis +tournament, and Jean watched them, her ears pricked up for the sound of +the coaching-horn, in hopes that Carol would return in time to go with +her to see Limpy. + +“Oh, dear! it’s four o’clock! I can’t wait any longer. I’ll just have to +go alone!” she sighed at, last. “Oh, I think Carol might come! Limpy may +get a heart attack, and I won’t know what to do. I just hate to go +alone, but I’ll have to,—I _promised_.” Choosing a story-book to read +aloud she set forth with a downcast countenance. + +“Jean, Jane, whar’s you gwine?” Frances called from the hammock. + +“To see Limpy,” replied Jean. “I have to go alone, because Carol hasn’t +come back, and Fräulein has such a headache I don’t like to ask her.” + +“Why didn’t you ask _me_? I’ll go with you,” said the friendly Mouse. + +“I didn’t ask _you_ because I knew you wouldn’t behave.” + +“Well, I’m going to be good now, anyway,” said Frances. “I haven’t +anything to do, so I’m going with you.” + +“Will you promise solemnly, on your honor, to be good?” Jean demanded. +“You know the least thing might give her a heart attack.” + +“Yes, I’ll be good. She’ll like me a great deal better than you.” But as +they crossed the Harrels’ daisy field, Frances said, “Don’t let’s go to +Limpy’s. Let’s go to the _flume_,—I’m crazy to see it!” + +Troublesome Path, the nearest way to the flume, was the wildest and most +perplexing trail in the whole region; and it began in the woods that +skirted the daisy field. The Hamiltons had taken Carol and Jean over it +a few days before, and the girls had brought back a thrilling report of +the deep gorge, with the brook roaring through it, and the natural +bridge spanning the chasm. + +“Oh, yes. I’d like to see ourselves marching off to the flume!” said +Jean. “We’d get a _nice_ big scolding!” + +“Nobody’d know, and nobody’d care,” said Frances. + +“Veritas!” And Jean planted the tip of her forefinger on Frances’s +golden shield. + +“Oh, shoot Veritas!” returned the Mouse. “Come on!” + +“I won’t do it!” declared Jean. “I’m going to Limpy’s and you are too, +so come along! This is Silver Sword work, and it’s time you did a +little, Miss Battle Maid!” + +“Oh, Giraffe, you’re such a crank! I did enough silver-swording making +candy for the festival. I’m going to the flume, whether you are or not. +Good-bye!” + +“No, you sha’n’t!” Jean caught Frances by the arm. “You’d lose the trail +in two minutes! Ah, Frisk, I think you’re terribly mean! You promised +you’d be good—I knew you were only pretending, though!” + +“All rightee, I’ll be good,” said Frances, who was really not at all +anxious to take the long, unknown walk, with only herself for company. +But when she reached the Harrels’ she balked again, and dropped into a +rickety chair under a tree. “I’m going to stay out here,” she announced. +“My daddy sent me to camp to be out in the fresh air all I could!” + +“Frances Browne, you’re just trying to be hateful! You _must_ come +in—I’ll _make_ you!” cried Jean, doing her best to drag the Mouse. + +“No,” said Frances, “I won’t. I can’t stand that cabbagey smell. I’ll +sit out here and cool off. But I won’t hang around waiting for you all +the afternoon. If you stay too long I _will_ go to the flume!” + +“Well, stay out then!” snapped Jean. The vision of a pale, unconscious +Limpy was rising before her, but she bravely went into the house by the +open front door. At the same moment Frances saw Tony Harrel come out by +the kitchen door and walk hurriedly away to the woods. + +Frances lolled back, fanning herself with her hat; then she took a light +luncheon from the Harrels’ sparse currant crop. Finally she strolled off +and began to climb the hill near by; and whom should she see coming down +but Bob and Ted Talcott, boys of fourteen and twelve, who were spending +a month under Dr. Hamilton’s care. They had struck up an acquaintance +with her at the festival over berries and cream. + +“Hello, Miss Fruit Fairy! Where are you going all by yourself?” asked +Bob. + +“Oh, nowhere,” said Frances. “I want to go to the flume. Do you know the +way?” + +“Sure. Went there yesterday with Jack.” + +“Take me there now, will you?” asked Frances eagerly. “I’m wild to see +it, and I haven’t anybody to go with.” + +“Too far for girls,” said Bob, with manly superiority. + +“It isn’t at all. Jean went there last week. If you’ll take me I’ll make +you some fudge to-morrow.” + +“All right, ma’am. Well take you to the flume, and we’ll come and call +on you too,” said Bob. + +“Won’t she squeal when we get her out on the bridge!” said his brother. + +“No, I won’t. I never get dizzy,” Frances declared. “Do you dare me to +cross it all alone?” + +“Nope.” + +“I dare myself, then!” said Frances in high glee. They ran down the hill +and turned into the Harrels’ place on their way to the trail. + +“You haven’t got a pencil and paper, have you?” asked Frances. + +“There you are!” Bob brought out a small red account book and a stubby +pencil. + +Frances tore out a page and wrote: “I’ve waited about three hours for +you, and now I’m going to the flume. Good-bye.” This note she fastened +with a hat-pin to the tree under which Jean had left her, and then set +off with the boys along Troublesome Path. + +Jean looked much bolder than she felt as she walked in at the Harrels’ +front door. She peeped into the parlor,—no one was there. She went into +the kitchen,—that was deserted too. It was a bad sign, and the horror of +perhaps finding Limpy unconscious almost made her play the coward. But +she rallied her flagging courage and stole upstairs. The door of Limpy’s +bedroom was open and she heard the sound of sobbing. She went in. There +was the poor girl in a heap on the floor beside the bed, her face buried +in her hands, shuddering with convulsive tremors. + +“Limpy, what’s the matter?” cried Jean. + +Limpy started, stared at her wildly for an instant; then, half raising +herself, she threw her arms around Jean’s waist, dragging her down on +the floor beside her and panted out: + +“Where’s Tony? Is he gone? Is he gone?” + +“Limpy, dear, please stop crying and tell me what’s happened,” said +Jean, putting her arms around the sobbing girl. + +“Tony come back last night. He lost his place,” answered Limpy. “An’ +he—he took my—money,—my ten dollars!” + +“He stole it?” Jean asked breathlessly. + +“No, he made me give it to him. He said—oh, dear! he’d kill me for +tellin’! Shut the door; he might hear us.” + +“Whisper; then he can’t hear,” said Jean, closing the door softly; and +Limpy went on in an undertone: “He said he was goin’ away again, an’ he +made me give him the ten dollars. I ain’t had no chance to give ’em to +Doctor. An’ Tony said if I ever told on him he’d ruin Douglas! So I +couldn’t do nothin’,—I just _had_ to give him the money. An’ I got to +give him all the rest. He said if I didn’t have it ready for him when he +come back next time, he’d set the woods afire, an’ burn up your camp an’ +the Hamiltons’! An’ he’ll do it! I know he will! He said he’d do it +_now_, if I told on him!” + +“No, he won’t!” answered Jean, desperately frightened herself, but +knowing that for Limpy’s sake she must hide her terror. “I’ll tell +everybody about it, and they’ll watch for him so he won’t get a chance. +Wait till I go and get Frances,—she’s waiting outside,—and then we’ll +stay with you till it’s time to go home. Don’t be frightened.” + +“Please come back quick then,” begged Limpy. “My heart’s beatin’ +terrible bad! I can’t hardly breathe.” + +“Oh, dear! Now she’s going to be _unconscious_,” thought Jean. “Come, +Limpy, get on the bed,—quick—and then you’ll feel better,” she urged, +her own heart beating fast with fear. She helped Limpy to the bed, and +sat beside her until the excited girl grew quieter. Then she slipped +softly down stairs, hurried out of doors and found that Frances had +deserted already. She could see her in the distance climbing the hill, +but she was afraid to leave Limpy alone and go after the runaway. + +Fighting the terror that gripped her, Jean went indoors again, her hands +icy and her ears alert for sounds of danger. She peeped cautiously into +each room in turn until she had proof positive that Tony was not in the +house. Then she went back to Limpy and forced herself to speak cheerily. + +“Frances has gone up the hill and I can’t make her hear,” she said. “But +let’s not worry any more about Tony. I’m sure he’s gone. I’ve brought a +lovely book and I’ll read to you.” + +Jean read for an hour or more, and then, though the clock in the kitchen +had stopped, she was sure that it was time to leave. “I’ll have to go +now,” said she. “It must be tea-time. But I’ll ask Mrs. Brook to send +somebody to stay with you. You won’t be left alone long.” + +As she went out Frances’ words came back to her: “If you stay too long I +_will_ go to the flume.” Spying the note pinned to the tree she took it +down and read it. “Mercy! She _has_ gone!” exclaimed poor Jean. “Oh, +dear! She’ll lose her way! I’ll have to go after her. She can’t have +gone far. I’ll soon catch up with her.” + +Running across the yard and through the fields to the woods, she set out +on the trail to the flume, calling, “Frances!” and “Ooh-ooh!” and +listening in vain for an answer. On she went, following with difficulty +Troublesome Path. She pushed her way through tangled underbrush and +scrambled over rocks, trying to find the trees on which blazes had been +cut. But the trail was so hard to make out that to keep the right course +proved a baffling problem. Pretty soon she was hopelessly perplexed, and +which was north, south, east or west, which way led home and which to +the flume she had not the least idea. It was growing dimmer and dimmer +in the forest; night would fall early in that dense shade, and suddenly +Jean realized that she was lost. Lost! It came upon her like a +nightmare. She was shut up in a vast dark prison; and it would have been +almost as easy to break through the walls of a cell as to find her way +out through that bewildering maze of trees. The fears of the afternoon +were nothing compared with the terror that rushed over her now. She +began to call, “Frances!” again, with all her strength, but deathlike +silence was the only answer. Suddenly she checked herself and shrank +back into the cleft of a rock with a new dread. Tony himself might be in +the woods! His vindictive eyes might even now be peering at her out of +the dusk. + +But she must not stay cowering there; she must go on before the night +should blind her; and so she tried again to pick out the way by which +she had come. She wondered whether she and Frances had already been +missed, and whether any one had yet been sent out to search for them; +and she asked herself how, in that vast forest, either of them could +ever be found. Then she was seized with a new alarm. She remembered +having heard of people being lost in forests and becoming crazed with +the horror of it. What if she should go crazy! Though lost, she must +control herself and keep her senses. She gathered up all her will power +and tried to fight down the fear that had mastered her. + +How dark it was growing! In some places Jean could hardly see. Wandering +on despairingly, she at last came out on the bank of a brook. This was +next best to seeing a friend. It might lead her out of the woods. It +_must_ lead somewhere, and following it she would have a path that she +could not lose. She walked along the edge of the stream, but before she +had gone far she noticed the smell of smoke. Then the terror that she +had been trying to conquer swept over her again. Tony might have +overheard Limpy telling her of his threat and have set fire to the woods +already! She must escape by way of the brook before he should find her, +or the fire spread. She hurried forward, but suddenly stopped, checked +by a new thought. There had been but little rain all summer, and Douglas +had told her that a fire once kindled in the dry woods might spread for +miles and even destroy the camps at Halcyon. He had said that a fire +once started even through carelessness would smoulder and spread through +the inflammable mat of dead leaves, twigs and moss, the “duff” as it was +called, and at last break out in violence to do its work of destruction. +Danger was near—not to herself alone, but to the homes over which the +fire might sweep. But it was a danger that it might be possible to +avert. + +Suddenly it seemed almost as if a voice said, “Battle Maid, take your +sword and conquer!” + +“I will!” said Jean. “This is a real battle! I’ll do the best I can!” + +She climbed the bank; pushed through the trees, and scrambled through a +windfall. Beyond the heap of boughs she came upon a patch of ground from +which little curls of smoke were rising. Here and there sparks gleamed +under the smoke. Could she do anything to check the spreading fire? The +brook was near, but all she had for a pail was her canvas hat, nearly +water-proof to be sure, but holding scarcely a cupful. Yet the +experiment seemed worth trying. She hurried back to the brook, filled +her hat, returned to the burning patch and poured out the water. There +was a fizzle, and the smoke disappeared from about as wide a space as +her palm could have covered. Back and forth she went between the brook +and the fire, each time a splutter and a few inches conquered, +encouraging her to continue. Her fears were lessening now that she had +work to do, and she toiled on, her path growing more and more obscured. +She had heard of beating out fires, and she struck at the smouldering +ground with a branch; but it was a dead one and broke at the second +blow. She took up her hat again, and this time, as she carried it to the +brook she could find her way only by groping. Returning she caught her +foot in the fallen branches and fell, bruising herself painfully. + +Then her utter helplessness overpowered poor Jean. The night had come +down at last, wrapping her around in a cloak of darkness, and she +crouched there among the fallen trees, alone and in pain. The wounded +battle maid could not help one sob of despair and a little low moan. The +moan ended in a prayer: “Oh, dear Lord, don’t let me die here. Make them +find me! Oh, Lord, please help me, and don’t let the woods burn!” And +then the agony of fear and the despair passed away. Suddenly Jean was +strong again and hopeful, though so helpless and all alone. She rose up +and groped her way back to her work again. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + FOREST AND FIRE + + +Mrs. Brook came home at tea-time and found Fräulein Bunsen looking +anxious, for Jean and Frances had not yet returned. + +“I’ll send Douglas for them,” said she. “Cecily, run and see if you can +catch him.” + +Cecily and Betty both flew. Douglas was out of sight and on the way to +the livery-stable with the buckboard by the time they reached the road, +but there they met Frances, Bob and Ted. + +“Why, Frances! Where’s Jean?” cried Cecily. + +“Poking over Limpy still, I suppose,” said the Mouse. “I was so sick and +tired of waiting for her, I took a walk with the boys. I left a note for +her.” + +“Well, you go in and tell Mother we’ve gone to meet her,” said Cecily, +hurrying away with Betty. + +Before they returned the tally-ho party arrived. + +“We’ve had a perfectly glorious time!” said Carol. “Just as we came to +Deer Lake Mrs. Clinton suddenly decided to go on to Blue Heron Pond and +have luncheon at the Inn. That’s why we were gone such ages. Where’s +that child of mine? I bought this stuffed heron at the Inn for her.” + +While Mrs. Brook was telling how Jean had kept her appointment, Douglas +came in, and a moment later Cecily and Betty appeared in great +excitement. + +“Jean started—to come back—more than an hour ago!” panted Cecily. “She +must have lost her way, or something’s happened to her!” Carol turned +white. + +“Don’t be frightened,” said Mrs. Brook. “We shall find her. We must +send—” + +“I’ll start right off,” Douglas interrupted. “Wait till I get a +lantern.” And he dashed away for a light. + +“I’m afraid she started out to look for you, Frances,” said Mrs. Brook. + +“Yes, I’m sure she did,” broke in Cecily. “What did you say in your +note?” + +Frances hesitated. + +“Yes, what did you say?” asked Miss Hamersley sternly. + +“I told her I was going to the flume,” said Frances faintly. + +“To the flume!” exclaimed Mrs. Brook. + +“Bob and Ted took me,” murmured Frances, “but she wouldn’t have gone +after _me_.” + +“That’s just what she’s done!” cried Carol. “And it will be pitch dark +in the woods soon! She’s certain to lose her way, and she’ll go crazy +with fright!” Carol’s grip on Frances’ arm, her white face, and the fire +flashing in her eyes so terrified the culprit that she burst out crying, +and the rest of her confession came out with sobs. + +“I’m off for the flume now,” said Douglas, who had come back with a +lantern. + +“Take Rod with you,” said Cecily. “He’ll find her,—I know he will!” She +knelt down, took her collie’s head between her hands, and said: “Rod, +find Jean. Find Jean.” + +The dog’s intelligent eyes looked into his mistress’s and answered, “I +promise.” + +“Get something to give him the scent,” said Douglas. “Got a shoe?” + +Cecily brought one of Jean’s shoes, and the boy and the dog went off +towards the woods. + +“Now,” said Mrs. Brook, “someone must go to Hurricane and send one of +the boys to the Inn for guides. We must get search parties started.” + +“I’ll go!” And Carol darted away, with Miss Hamersley after her, on the +Hurricane trail. + +“Don’t be worried,” said Court consolingly, when the breathless +messengers had told their errand. “She’ll be found soon,—I haven’t a +doubt of it. Jack, go over to the Inn and order out the guides. I’ll +start along Troublesome Path.” + +“I’ll go with you, Court,” said his father, as Jack rushed down to the +dock. They accompanied Miss Hamersley and Carol to Huairarwee, and then +with the dogs, Blarny and Blunder, hastened away on their quest. + +And now followed a long, anxious waiting. + +Frances had run away in the midst of her fit of crying, and was +discovered by Cecily under the platform of her tent, crouching on the +cold earth, a heap of woe! + +“Come out, Frances! Don’t cry so dreadfully,” coaxed Cecily, ready to +cry herself. “Come and get your supper.” + +“I’m—afraid—she’s tumbled—down a—precipice! I just know I’ve killed +her!” sobbed poor Frances. “Leave me alone! I don’t want any supper!” +And no pleading could draw forth the wretched Mouse. + +Carol too was suffering bitterly. All the hopeful words her friends +could offer were powerless to comfort. She paced up and down out of +doors, straining her eyes in the darkness for the flash of a lantern +heralding the wanderer’s return, and working herself into a frenzy by +picturing all the accidents that might have befallen Jean. + +No second sight enabled the heavy-hearted watchers to follow Douglas and +Roderick Dhu. From the beginning of the flume trail, onward for some +distance, the dog’s keen nose traced Jean’s course. + +“It’s up to us to find her now!” said Douglas. “That’s tight! Go it, old +boy! We must get her before she’s scared to death. She won’t lose her +grit in a hurry though,—you can bet your life on that! Hello! what’s the +matter?” The collie had stopped short. Douglas shouted and hallooed. Rod +ran about sniffing and suddenly grew excited over a fresh scent. +“Hooray! Now we’ve got it! Now we’ll run her down _sure_, won’t we, old +fellow?” The dog ran on, nose to the ground, until the scent failed him +once more. Then he looked up and confessed by his apologetic eyes and +whine that he was nonplussed. + +“Stumped, are you?” said Douglas. “Oh, come now! What’s the matter with +you? Can’t you smell out a scent two hours old? Here,—try the shoe +again!” But the poor dog whined and snuffled hopelessly about. “You’re +no good! It’s because you’re a girl’s dog! They didn’t teach you +anything but how to shake hands!” Roderick Dhu’s tail drooped. “Poor old +duffer! You’ll just have to follow me.” + +Douglas patted Rod. The dog cheered up and his plume began to wave once +more. He followed Douglas, who was trying what might once have been a +trail. The boy made turn after turn, calling and listening, and casting +his light on every hollow or nook suggesting a pitfall or place of +shelter. All the time it was growing darker, and the farther he pushed +on the denser the woods became. + +Clever young woodsman though he was he soon found that he had lost his +bearings. + +“Hello! That was a close call!” He had almost fallen over a ledge of +rock. “Suppose she’s tumbled over a place like that!” He set his teeth +as he thought how Jean might be lying injured and helpless after some +dreadful fall; and he pushed on, shouting himself hoarse. At last the +clue came; the dog’s nose had found it. + +“Hooray! Good boy, Rod!” said Douglas. The collie led him through a +clump of alders, down a bank to a half dried brook, and along its stony +bed. Suddenly the boy began to sniff too. “Smoke!” he exclaimed. “I’ll +have to see to that next! Hello! Where’re you going now?” The dog had +left the brook and was trotting up the slope. Douglas followed, shouting +Jean’s name, and this time a faint cry answered him. It sounded like, +“Here! Here!” + +“I’m coming!” he called, and led by Rod he reached the windfall, through +which the dog bounded. A sharp bark, a joyful cry, and Douglas knew that +Jean was found. He crashed through the fallen trees, and as he stepped +out he heard, “Oh, Rod, you darling, dear old dog!” + +There stood Jean, struggling to keep her balance as Roderick Dhu, with +his paws on her shoulders and his nose in her face, showered her with +kisses; and there, almost at her feet, the smoke was rising. The boy +dashed to her side. + +“Here I am, Jean! Hooray! I’ve found you! Get down, Rod,—don’t eat her +up!” + +“Oh, Douglas! How did you ever find me? I’ve been lost hours and hours, +and I was so terribly frightened! Oh, I’m so glad! I’m so glad!” Jean +clung to him quivering, in the rush of joy and relief. + +“You poor little thing!” said Douglas soothingly. “I should think you’d +have gone crazy! It was awful for you! But you’re all right now! I’ve +got you safe, and I’m going to take you right home. What are you +standing in the fire for? Don’t you see it’s burning all around you?” + +“Yes, and I’ve been trying to put it out, but I can’t.” + +“Great guns! You’ve been trying to put it out? Jean, you’re a brick! +What were you doing? Stamping it out?” + +“No. I carried water in my hat!” + +Douglas began to laugh. + +“It’s a _canvas_ hat,” Jean explained; “but it doesn’t hold much. Can’t +_you_ put it out, Douglas? The woods’ll all get on fire if you don’t.” + +“Yes, I’ll stamp it out. I only want to see if you’re all right first. +How did you ever get over here? You’re way off the trail.” + +“I don’t know. I was trying to get to the flume to find Frances. She’s +lost too!” + +“_She!_ Not much! She was off larking with Bob and Ted. She got back all +right. I bet all the guides are out after you by this time! We’ve beaten +them all to smithereens, haven’t we, Rod? Get down, sir, get down! +That’s right, Jean,—hold on to me. You’re all shaky! What’s the matter? +Didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” + +“No, not much.” + +“Look here! You’re not going to cry, are you?” asked Douglas in sudden +alarm. + +“Of course I’m not going to cry!” + +“That’s right! You’re the stuff!” Douglas patted her on the back. “Now,” +he added, “I’m going to beat that fire out. Wait till I get a stick.” He +attacked the smoking ground with a branch from the windfall, and stamped +with his heavy boots. Jean sat on a fallen tree, fondling Rod, and +watching while her enemy was conquered. + +“Are they terribly worried about me at home?” she called. + +“Seared stiff!” Douglas called back. “Lucky you didn’t pitch down one of +those gullies! I was afraid you had.” + +“I was sure you’d come after me,” said Jean, “but I thought you’d +_never_ find me!” + +“Rod did it mostly,” answered Douglas. + +Jean patted the dog. “Wasn’t he splendid!” said she. + +Upturning, beating, stamping, Douglas kept at his work until he had gone +over every inch of ground touched by the fire, and crushed out every +spark. + +“It’s out now, every bit of it!” he cried at last. “I wonder how it +started.” + +“Tony Harrel did it,” said Jean. + +“Great, Cæsar! Tony? What do you mean?” + +“I can’t tell you here. He might be around.” + +“Well, if he’s around there are enough people out looking for you to +catch him and chuck him into the flume,” said Douglas. + +“Oh, hush! Don’t talk so loud,” begged Jean. “Let’s start home quick. +I’ll tell you as we go.” + +“Look here! I’m lost myself,” said Douglas. “We’ll have to follow that +brook down. I bet it’s the one that cuts across the flume trail.” + +They began the homeward tramp, and Jean told him as they went the whole +story of the afternoon. + +“Tony’s a sneak! He ought to be shot!” said Douglas. “He didn’t start +that fire though.” + +“Why, how do you know?” asked Jean. + +“Oh, he was just bluffing to scare Limpy. That fire hadn’t just started, +either. It must have been creeping through the duff for ever so long.” + +It was a rough road down the stony edge of the brook, but they found +that Douglas had guessed right, for it crossed the flume trail. + +“We’re on the home run now,” said the boy. But to Jean it looked like a +very long slow run indeed. Suddenly they heard voices; then lanterns +shone out. Dr. Hamilton and Court were coming back from a fruitless +journey to the flume. The weary march ended at once. Court and his +father made a queen’s chair and Jean rode home in triumph. + +As they neared the camp Douglas ran ahead and shouted, “Here she is!” +The girls came running to meet her, Carol and Cecily first of all, and +she was caught and clasped in her friends’ arms. + +“Douglas found her!” said Court. “She was putting out a forest fire! She +and Douglas have saved the woods! She’s a trump!” + +“She’s a brick!” said Douglas. + +“She’s a heroine!” said Dr. Hamilton. “She’s proved herself a true +battle maid.” + +While Jean and Douglas were having their supper, they told their story +together, their excited hearers interrupting with praises of Jean’s +courage, and giving Douglas and Roderick Dhu their full share of glory. + +“Where’s Frances? Isn’t she glad I’m back?” asked Jean. The Mouse had +not come to welcome her, but they found her face downward on her cot. +She would not raise her head till Jean bent over her, saying, “Please, +Friskie, look up. I can’t go to bed till you give me a kiss.” Then she +sat up, displaying tear-wet cheeks, and red, swollen eyes. + +“Oh, Jean,” she said, “I didn’t mean to get you lost! Oh, I—I +thought—you were dead!” + +“Well, I’m not,” Jean answered cheerily. “Don’t cry, Mousie. I’m glad I +was lost. If I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have found the fire.” She gave +Frances a kiss, but it lighted on the crown of her head, for the poor +Mouse ducked in self-abasement. + +Carol did not leave Jean for a moment till she was safely tucked in bed. +When the light was out she knelt beside the cot, put her arms around +Jean, and laid her head on the pillow beside her. + +“Shall I keep you awake if I stay here a few minutes, darling?” she +asked. “I want to be sure I have you safe again.” + +“I wish you’d stay till I go to sleep,” said Jean. “It’s so good to have +_you_ again, Big Sister, dear! I thought at one time I’d never get home. +I thought I’d just have to die there!” + +The clasp of Carol’s arms tightened. “Oh, my precious Little Sister!” +she whispered. “I never knew before how much I loved you!” + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + CINDERELLA + + +“I wonder how Limpy is,” said Jean, as she awoke next day to find Carol +at her bedside. “Can’t we go down and see her right after breakfast?” + +“Your majesty can’t,” said Carol. “You’re to have your breakfast in bed, +and take a rest cure. Mrs. Brook’s going to see her herself this +morning, so I’ll stay and take care of _you_.” + +Jean was quite willing to lie still a while longer, for she was worn out +after the fatigue and excitement of yesterday. When her breakfast was +brought to her, it was a subdued and pensive Frances who carried in the +plate of flapjacks, with which Marie insisted upon regaling the heroine. + +She was up and dressed by ten o’clock, but there was no exercise on the +lake for her that morning. Carol settled her cozily in a hammock, with +pillows at her back, and all Jean’s pleading could not induce Cecily and +Betty to forsake her. + +“No, your majesty, your battle maids are going to stay and wait on you,” +said Cecily. “I’ll be Court Reader, and Betty’ll be Court Swinger.” She +seated herself on the grass with a book to read aloud; Betty began to +swing Jean gently to and fro; and Frances, who had been condemned to +pass a day of sackcloth and ashes within the bounds of Huairarwee, +proved the sincerity of her repentance by assisting Nanno to hold a wake +for Katy, thus distracting the camp baby from her determination to +“jounce up and down” on the feet of her guardian-in-chief. + +“Joan of Arc, can I trust you not to jump out of the hammock and skip +off to better the world the minute my back’s turned?” Carol gave this +parting admonition before going out on the water. + +“Yes, Big Sister, I’ll be good,” Jean promised. + +“I’ll hold her down,” said Frances, drawing the Navajo blanket over +Jean’s head. + +“Frisk is a reformed character this morning,” said Carol, as she and +Eunice and Nancy went down to the landing. + +“Poor little soul! She must have cried oceans, last night!” said Nancy. + +“I know one thing,” said Carol. “If it hadn’t been for Frisky we +wouldn’t have found out what stuff my Jeanie’s made of! I’m going to +write to Miss Carlton to-day, and tell her what a heroine she is! And +I’ll tell her she’s in dead earnest about trying to make the world +better. Pretty big job she has on her hands! If we three had an ounce of +energy between us, we’d do a little bettering on our own account!” + +“I think you and Jean are a pretty good pair,” said Eunice. “But I +really _do_ think I might stir up my lazy bones and do something for +somebody!” + +“Come along then!” said Carol. “I have an _idea_. Let’s go over to +picnic island and have a pow-wow.” + +The girls came back from their pow-wow to find Mrs. Brook just returned +from her visit to Limpy. They seized her and drew her away to a private +consultation. + +Early in the afternoon Douglas drove up in a surrey. He was whistling in +high good humor, and gave Jean a mischievous look when she called from +the hammock, “Why, Douglas! Who’s going out driving?” + +“Miss Carol and Miss Eunice,” said he. + +“What on earth are you going off alone for?” asked Jean, as Eunice and +Carol came out of their tent. + +“Mayn’t I have my chum to myself once in a while?” said Carol. “Jump in, +Una! Bye-bye, Queenie,” and she sprang into the surrey after Eunice. + +“Are you going to stop and see Limpy?” Jean asked. + +“Yes, we’ll look in on her,” answered Carol. + +As they drove away Mrs. Brook said, “Cecily, I think it would do Jean +good to have a row this afternoon. You and Betty take her over to Water +Lily Cove, and bring some lilies for the table.” + +The three girls managed to dispose of a good two hours in their visit to +the Cove. They returned with a big bunch of the white and yellow +beauties, and down to the dock to meet them rushed Frances, her spirits +already on the rebound. + +“What do you think Motherling and I’ve been up to?” said she. “We’ve +been rigging up a cozy corner! Come and see it!” She hurried them away +to Mrs. Brook’s tent, and they found that a part of it had been screened +off. + +“Now you look as sweet as a peach, and sweeter!” They heard Carol’s +voice from the hidden cozy corner, and there came a soft laugh in +answer. Frances pushed aside the screen and revealed a new bedroom. +There on a cot sat a fair-haired girl, in Carol’s pink kimono, which +Carol herself was fastening at the throat with one of her own +brooches,—a tiny enameled daisy. + +“Limpy!” Jean and Cecily flew to the pinkrobed girl, who sprang up with +her arms outstretched. + +“I’m comin’ to visit! to stay all summer!” said Limpy. + +“All summer! How perfectly gorgeous!” cried Jean. “Carolie, that’s what +you and Eunice went off alone for!” + +“That was it!” Carol acknowledged. “We went to steal Cinderella and +carry her off to the ball! And wasn’t she surprised when she found what +her fairy godmothers had come for!” + +“Now I know why Mammykins sent us off after water-lilies,” said Cecily. +“It was a trick to get rid of us while she fixed up this room and you +brought Limpy. It’ll be lovely to have you here, Limpy!” + +“And we’ll take splendid care of you,” said Betty. + +“I’m so happy I don’t know what to do!” said Limpy. “But, oh! Jean, I +was so frightened about you last night. Pa come home an’ said they was +all out lookin’ for you. Oh, wasn’t you grand an’ brave!” + +“Cinderella, you’ve danced enough jigs,” said Carol. “Let me try on your +glass slippers, and then you must have a nice long rest.” Limpy dropped +down on the bed obediently, and Carol completed the new costume by +adding a pretty pair of moccasins. + +“She’s given ’em to me!” said the happy little Cinderella. “An’ she give +me this!” She smoothed out the rosy kimono reverently. “Ain’t it +beautiful! I’m so afraid I’ll muss it. An’ this pin! Ain’t it just the +loveliest! I didn’t think I’d ever have any _jewelry_!” Then she threw +her arms around Carol’s neck and gave her a kiss of passionate +gratitude. “An’ just look at the room they’ve fixed for me!” she added. +Her happy eyes roamed again over her little nest, with its rustic table +fitted up as a washstand, a mirror hanging over it, its green wicker +chair with scarlet cushions, and the snug cot with its flowered chintz +coverlet. “Oh, it’s just too sweet!” she murmured. + +Limpy was too tired to be at supper with twenty lively girls all +laughing and talking at once, so a little tea-table was set on the tent +veranda, and there the queen and her maidens entertained the damsel no +longer distressed. + +“I don’t know what’s the matter with me! I just can’t stop laughin’, an’ +yesterday I couldn’t stop cryin’!” said Limpy. “Oh, I’m so happy! I +can’t never tell you how happy I am!” + +“We’re just as happy as you are,” said Cecily. “And we’re not going to +let Jean keep you all to herself. We’ll all be your sisters.” + +“Oh, Jean, let’s make her a member of the Order!” said Betty. + +“Splendid! Of course she must belong!” cried Jean. “I’ll knight her +right away.” She ran to Cecily’s flower bed and came back with a long +spray of gladiolus. Then she made Limpy kneel before her and struck her +on the shoulder with the sword-flower. “Stella Olympia,” she said, “I +dub thee battle maid of the Order of the Silver Sword. Be always +faithful to the sword of love and the shield of truth. Rise, Battle +Maid!” And up rose Limpy, radiant at this overwhelming honor. + +Carol, Eunice and Nancy had planned to pay Limpy’s board themselves, but +Mrs. Brook refused to accept a penny. And while from their own wardrobes +they were making up an outfit to take the place of the forlorn little +bundle of clothes with which Limpy had arrived, and of which she seemed +ashamed, Jean, Cecily, Betty and Frances rushed to their own tent, fired +with eagerness to despoil themselves likewise. They found this +self-robbery so fascinating that when Carol looked in upon them, she +declared that the sacrificial pyre reached to the ridge-pole of the +tent. Jean’s contribution included her new organdie with its pink +ribbons, her jaunty white duck suit, and the only warm coat that she had +brought to camp. + +“_My_ dresses won’t fit her at all,—I’m such a shorty!” Frances +lamented. “I know—I’ll give her my Sunday hat!” + +When Mrs. Brook saw the lavish display she made a small and judicious +selection from it, and insisted that nothing more should be given. The +girls’ faces fell; but when the simple and tasteful outfit was complete, +it had in Cinderella’s delighted eyes all the splendor of a rich bridal +trousseau. + +But it was not the new clothes that soon changed Limpy almost beyond +recognition. It was the love and brightness around her that brought out +all the long hidden sunshine of her nature. + +“I wish I had a pretty name like you girls have,” she said one day to +Jean. “I can’t bear _Limpy_! I used to like _Olympia_, but I don’t now. +Do you?” + +“No,” answered Jean frankly. “But I love _Stella_, and it means a star!” + +“Does it? Honest? Ain’t that pretty,—I mean _isn’t_ it?” said Limpy, +whom Miss Hamersley was drilling in the rules of grammar. + +“Yes, it’s the Latin for _star_,” explained Jean. “Wouldn’t you like to +have us call you Stella? I wanted to all the time, but I was afraid it +would hurt your feelings if I said I didn’t like ‘Limpy.’” + +“Why, I wouldn’t have minded. I’ll be awful glad if you’ll call me +Stella,—it _is_ real pretty, I think.” + +“All right, we will,” said Jean. “Now you’ll be our _star_!” And so the +old name was discarded with the old unhappy life. + +“But _I_ shall always call you _Limpy_,—it’s the name I’ve known and +loved you by!” said Frances, her black eyes dancing with fun. She +unclasped her pretty coral necklace as she spoke, and slyly slipped it +around Stella’s throat, with a little kiss on the ear of the new maid of +honor. + + * * * * * + +Cinderella made her début in her new world of sunshine in good time,—not +to attend the “prince’s ball,”—but to enjoy the merry-makings on the +camp-mother’s birthday. + +“I didn’t know folks ever got presents on their birthdays,” Stella said +to Cecily when, a few days before the important occasion, she heard the +question of gifts discussed. “Do you girls _always_ get presents?” + +“Yes, indeed we do,” replied Cecily. “I got all my best painting +materials on my last birthday. What a pity yours isn’t coming this +summer, instead of way off in December! It would be such fun to +celebrate yours too!” Then through Cecily’s mind flashed an idea which +sent her away to hold private consultation with the other battle maids. + +The birthday dawned, bright and clear, and the gay notes of Carol’s +_reveille_ summoned the campers to begin the festivities. Five minutes +after the bugle call, Mrs. Brook and Stella heard a merry chorus outside +their tent. “Many happy returns of the day, Motherling! Many happy +returns, Stella!” + +“What are they saying that to _me_ for?” asked the wondering girl. + +“This is _your_ birthday too, Stella!” Cecily’s voice answered. “Your +half-past fifteenth birthday! You’re only a very little over fifteen and +a half, you know.” + +“We’re going to celebrate Nanno’s too!” called Jean. “She’s only _just_ +over six.” + +“And Leila Myra’s,” added Carol. “We knew if Nanno got any more toys to +quarrel over, the carnage would be ghastly, unless her poor abused +_company_ had something to console her!” + +When breakfast time came, Stella, her pale cheeks turning pink with +happy excitement, learned that the exhibition of water sports to be +given that morning had been planned partly in her honor. At half-past +ten she and Mrs. Brook were escorted down to Camp-Fire Rock, now the +grand stand, draped with the Stars and Stripes, and a troop of girls in +bathing suits entertained them with a varied program. + +First came a swimming race between five of the “freshies,”—Winifred +Russell, Lou Phillips, Ethel Merryman, Dorothy Stone and Jean. + +“Did you ever see anybody take _fun_ in such dead earnest as Queenie!” +said Carol to Nancy. “Look at her! Even her pigtail says ‘do or die!’” + +The youngest “freshie” did indeed have the air of one going into battle, +as she stepped into the skiff to be taken by Douglas out to the float. + +“Go in and win now, Jean!” said he, before the others joined them. + +“I’ll do my level best!” she answered. But she knew that she had +formidable rivals, and that the majority of the campers expected +athletic Winifred to carry off the prize. + +The girls took their places, some in Douglas’s boat, some in Miss +Hamersley’s, and were rowed out to their starting point. Standing on the +float, they formed in line with arms extended above their heads. Miss +Hamersley blew her whistle, and they dived as one, and coming up again +struck out, all five abreast, for the anchored canoe,—their goal. + +“Jean’s dropped behind!” cried Betty. + +“No, that’s Dot!” said Cecily. + +“Which is which, anyway?” exclaimed Carol. “They look like so many +seals!” + +The watchers on the shore saw three competitors one after the other drop +back from the line, until a blond head and a dark one were in advance of +the rest. + +“Good for Win! She’s going to be winner!” cried Helen Westover, who had +taught Winifred of the light locks to swim. “Go in and _Win_—ifred!” she +called. + +“Don’t get your hopes up, Wild Woolly One,” said Carol. “Jean’s going to +leave her _nowhere_ in a moment!” + +“I bet a cookie on Win!” Helen returned. + +“I bet the whole cookie-jar full on Jean!” Carol stoutly declared. + +Winifred was a strong swimmer, but Jean proved a determined little +antagonist, keeping up with her neck and neck. + +“Get ahead of her, Winnie,—for the honor of the Juniors!” called Grace +Gardner. “Don’t let a little lower classman beat you!” + +“Oh, Jean,” cried Cecily, “Beat! for the honor of the Silver Sword!” + +Stella squeezed Betty’s hand in her suspense. And now there remained +only a few strokes before the finish. “Jean’s ahead!” screamed Cecily. A +moment more and cheers burst forth. Jean was clinging to the canoe! Two +more strokes brought Winifred up to the goal. The others came up one by +one. The five clung to the canoe till they had regained their breath, +and then came swimming back to shore. + +Carol waded out to meet the victor. “Come to my arms, my pupil! I’d +rather lose a hundred races myself than have _you_ beaten!” she cried, +extinguishing Jean in a watery embrace. “Little Sister, I’m so proud of +you,—I feel like cabling the news to Brazil!” + +“I thought I was going to give out just before I got there,” said Jean. +“I felt as if I _couldn’t_ keep it up; but I knew you wanted me to beat, +terribly, and I was bound to do it, so I just struck out again as hard +as I could, and the first thing I knew there I was at the goal!” + +“Three cheers, Joan of Arc!” cried Cecily, splashing up to them. “I’m so +tickled we’ve beaten the Juniors, I don’t know what to do! Come and get +your prize.” + +They led Jean up to the grand stand. “Oh, Jean!” said Stella, “I’m so +glad! I was just crazy to have you beat!” + +“Congratulations, my battle maid,” said Mrs. Brook, and placed in her +hands the prize, a well-appointed picnic luncheon basket, with straps to +sling it from her shoulders. + +Races between expert swimmers followed. Then came walking the wet pole. +The Huairarwee flag staff had been uprooted for the occasion and had +been fastened horizontally to the dock, so as to stretch out over the +water; and the feat consisted in walking the length of it to capture the +tiny flag at the end. Olive Spencer was the first to make the attempt. +She slipped at the third step and jumped into the water. Grace tried +next, reached the middle of the pole, swayed, and went down +ignominiously. Then, with arms outstretched to balance herself, Cecily +walked confidently along the slippery way; but as she neared the end the +pole wobbled: she took two running steps and snatched at the flag, only +to knock it into the water, she herself plunging in with a splash. She +had struck the colors, not captured them, and in great chagrin she +returned to the dock. Girl after girl tried unsuccessfully. Poor Jean +lost her balance the instant she heard Frances call, “Go it, Giraffe!” +and reappeared, declaring, “That was _your_ fault, you wretch!” + +“Now you watch _me_ get the flag!” said the Mouse, who had furtively +slipped on an extra pair of stocking-feet, while the eyes of the other +spectators were fixed on Cecily. She was standing on a rain-cloak meant +to wrap around chilly competitors, and now, as she raised her right foot +to step upon the pole, a sleeve rose with it. She kicked herself free, +but at the next step the cloak stuck fast to her left sole. Giggling, +she tore it away. + +“Hold up, Mousie!” cried Jean. “You must have glue on your paws!” + +She and Carol arrested Frances, and obliged her to display her soles. +Carol burst out laughing. “Plaster!” she exclaimed. “Adhesive plaster! +The Brown Mouse is guilty of fraudulent methods!” + +“No, I’m not!” Frances answered coolly. “This is a ‘Go-as-you-please +race,’ and I pleased to go sticky! I was going to own up as soon as I +got the flag.” + +“All right, Mousie, _go_ as you please!” said Carol. “Let’s see how the +experiment works. That’s _my_ rain-cloak you were obligingly walking off +with, I beg to inform you, Miss Francie-Prancie-Dancie!” + +“Stick tight, Frisk!” laughed Jean. “_Adhese_—I mean adhere—as hard as +you can!” + +But even the best surgeon’s adhesive plaster could avail nothing without +the art of poising. Frances should have added a balancing-pole, for at +the fifth step she dropped with a shriek. + +“Oh, dear! My Mammy gave me that plaster in case I got hurt, and now +I’ve used it all up on that old pole!” complained the discomforted +Mouse. “I don’t care—it was a cheat anyhow! It hadn’t any _stick_! Now +let’s see Betsy tumble off!” + +Betty was the poorest swimmer in camp, and was expected, at best, to +carry off only a consolation prize that day; but to the astonishment of +all beholders she kept her equilibrium where even the most athletic had +failed, and when at last she did plunge down it was amid vociferous +cheers, for the flag was clutched triumphantly in her hand. Cecily and +Jean together led her to the grand stand to receive her prize,—a new +trout-pole. + +Betty’s rivals repeated their attempts till three more flags had been +captured, Jean failing to the last, but Cecily carrying one off at her +second essay. Then, after an interval of rest on the sunny beach, came +guide-boat and canoe races; and that day, as on many a preceding one, +Carol and Cecily gave proof that they excelled all the others in skill +at the paddle. + +The water contests were followed by the birthday dinner. Mrs. Brook and +Stella, with Nanno and her much enduring guest, Leila Myra, were ushered +into the living-room to find the long camp dining-table in gala trim. In +a corner a small round table was set for two, and in its center was a +frosted cake with six candles. Here Nanno discovered a gay doll’s +tea-set at her place, and Leila Myra sat down on the floor in rapture +over a red go-cart, the exact counterpart of Nanno’s. At the main table +were two more cakes, one at Mrs. Brook’s place and one at Stella’s, both +elaborately ornamented with designs in chocolate icing, wrought by +artistic Cecily. These cakes blazed with candles, the camp-mother’s +having a double row, and Stella’s fifteen, with a half taper twinkling +in the center. Around each was a ring of small parcels; but before +Stella could untie any of hers, exclamations were heard all up and down +the table. + +“Hello! What’s this?” + +“I didn’t know it was _my_ birthday!” + +“Why, everybody has a present!” + +“This must be a birthday for all Camp Huairarwee!” + +Every one of Stella’s summer sisters had found a parcel on her plate; +and so had Mrs. Brook, Fräulein and Miss Hamersley. A general unwrapping +took place. Jean and Cecily, Betty and Frances found jewelry +cases—little boxes covered with tiny varnished fir-cones and acorns. The +other girls and the teachers had all been presented with miniature +cocked hats made of odds and ends of silk, and lined with layers of +chamois skin. + +“Motherling, did _you_ make us these darling ducks of pen-wipers?” asked +Marion. But Mrs. Brook shook her head. + +“I know who made these jewelry boxes!” said Jean, and she and Cecily +fell upon Stella, who was blushing and giggling between them. + +“And I saw somebody _sewing_ something the other day, and she wouldn’t +tell what it was!” said Dorothy Stone. The girls crowded around Stella, +and she was brought to confession. + +“I wanted to do _something_ for you,—you’re all so lovely to me! +Fräulein showed me how to make the hats, and I worked while you were off +bathing and out walking, and when you thought I was taking naps in my +tent!” + +“You Sly-boots!” cried Carol. + +“I thought Mrs. Brook’s birthday would be a nice time to give ’em to +you. But I never dreamt it was going to be _my_ birthday too!” laughed +Stella. + +She was kissed and thanked, and her little offerings heartily praised. +Then she was allowed to open her own parcels, of which there were no +less than twenty-three. Jean had donated her own favorite book, _Lorna +Doone_; Cecily had made her a roly-poly pincushion; Betty and Frances +had bought Indian baskets; Carol had contributed her new belt with its +oriental buckle; Eunice one of her dainty handkerchiefs; Nancy a pretty +necktie; and the other girls had added each some trifle to swell the +birthday store. When she had thanked the givers, Stella sat brooding in +delight over her riches, while Mrs. Brook was making a speech in +acknowledgment of her own gifts. + +“Stella acts as if we’d given her a gold watch, a diamond necklace, and +an automobile at least!” remarked Nancy. “I believe if I’d presented her +with a spool of darning cotton she’d have said it was ‘simply +_elegant_!’” And Stella declared: “I _know_ I’m the happiest girl in the +world! Nobody _ever_ had such lovely things done for her! I don’t wonder +folks keep birthdays! I think they’re just _grand_!” + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + THE HEMLOCK AND THE HIST-OH-HIST + + +A week before the birthdays were celebrated, a challenge had come to +Huairarwee. There were four boys’ camps, all within a radius of twenty +miles from Halcyon: Poke-o’-Moonshine at Blue Heron Pond, Pitch-off at +Crystal Lake, Tamarack and Catamount at Lake Algonquin,—and the time had +come for their annual regatta. Halcyon Lake had been chosen for the +contest on account of its central position and as the region of +Huairarwee was to be invaded, the boys had gallantly sent the girls a +challenge for the doubles, offering them a good handicap. The girls +accepted with enthusiasm, and immediately selected Carol and Cecily as +their champions. + +The course was to run from Big Pine Camp on the opposite shore, around a +stake-boat and back again,—a distance of half a mile; and on hearing +that the girls were to take part Mr. Clinton offered a cup as the prize. + +Carol sent home for her own beautiful cedar canoe, the _Hist-oh-Hist_, +and the night before the regatta it arrived, revarnished and polished +smooth and consigned to the care of Hiram Bolster, the Halcyon boatman, +who had pledged himself to have it unpacked and delivered at Huairarwee +in ample time for the race. + +The eventful morning came; nine o’clock passed,—no Bolster, no canoe. +Douglas was despatched to hurry up matters, and brought back a message +from Hiram’s wife that “Pa was off somewheres, but he wouldn’t fergit.” + +“I’d like to _dynamite_ that old Bolster!” exclaimed Carol. “He promised +faithfully he’d have that canoe up in time, and here it’s five minutes +after ten! Well, we’ll simply have to take one of _these_ canoes. Oh, +dear! but it’s too maddening! I want my own little _Hist-oh-Hist_. We’re +chums and we understand each other! Hiram Bolster, you’re a double-dyed +fraud! Well, come along!” she added. “Let’s take the _Yale_. That ought +to bring us luck!” + +Carol took her place in the _Yale_ with Eunice and Nancy to paddle her +to the rendezvous; and Cecily embarked with Helen and Betty in the +_Glide-away_. Most of the girls were going by boat to the races, but +Jean and Frances were among those left to drive with Fräulein Bunsen and +Stella around the head of the lake to Big Pine Camp. + +“Jean!” Carol called back, “if Bolster should come before you start, +make him bring the _Hist_ on after us as fast as he can. There’s just a +chance we might get it in time!” + +“I will,” Jean promised, “I’ll stay right here and watch for him.” She +and Frances stayed on the beach skipping stones over the water, while +the other girls waited in the road for the carriage. + +“Hello!” a voice like a foghorn roared behind them. Both girls jumped. +There stood Bob and Ted Talcott, who had just emerged from the Hurricane +trail, and stolen softly up to them. The older boy had a megaphone at +his lips. + +“Gracious! How you scared me!” cried Jean. + +“You nearly made me deaf for life!” declared Frances. “Aren’t you boys +going to the races?” + +“Nope,” said Bob. + +“Why not?” + +“We went shooting with Douglas’s rifle, and Dr. Hamilton found it out, +so he’s keeping us out of the fun.” + +“But we’re going up in your big hemlock,” added Ted. “We can see the +stake-boat, anyhow, and holler at ’em through the megaphone. Come on up, +too!” + +“I just _will_!” cried Jean. “Then if we see Bolster I’ll megaphone to +him not to stop, but to take the canoe right on as quick as he can. The +old poke hasn’t brought Carol’s canoe yet,” she explained. “Hurry up, +before the carriage comes!” + +“I’m going up, too,—we’ll break our necks, but what do _we_ care!” said +Frances gaily. + +“We’ll go ahead and pull you up when you get stuck,” said Bob. + +“We don’t need to be helped. We can get up as well as you can!” said +Frances scornfully. + +Mrs. Brook’s hemlock was famous—a real giant, dwarfing all the other +trees for miles around. Years before, a series of steps had been nailed +up the trunk, and a platform built far up among the lofty branches, the +lowest of which were at a dizzy height. If Mrs. Brook had not forbidden +the campers to climb the hemlock it was because she had not dreamed that +even the leader of the battle maids would be fired with such an +ambition. + +Jean and Frances felt their hearts fail them a little as they gazed up. +The steps were mere wooden chunks, and the rickety platform looked +alarmingly near the clouds. But the honor of Huairarwee was at stake, +and they would not show the white feather. Ted put himself at the head +of the climbers; Bob followed; Frances was a shrieking, giggling third, +and Jean brought up the rear. Step by step the procession mounted. The +wooden chunks were slippery, and some of them wobbled in a nerve-shaking +manner. Jean found that to glance down was to turn giddy, and to look up +was to feel discouragingly far below the branches. But at last the +lowest branch was reached, and working their way from bough to bough +they gained the platform. Far in the distance they could see the +stake-boat with its flags, but there was no sign of the recreant +Bolster. + +“There’s a boat going to the races!” exclaimed Frances. + +“Those must be the Fultons who came to our festival! Give me the +megaphone, quick!” cried Jean, seized with a brilliant idea, and she +called through the great horn, “Hello! hello! Tell them to wait for Miss +Armstrong’s canoe!” The others helped her in her wild hallooing by +shouting at the top of their lungs, Frances executing a very war-dance +in her excitement. The young people in the boat looked up and waved, but +Jean dropped the megaphone. “Horrors! It isn’t the Fultons at all!” she +groaned. “I’ve been yelling at strangers!” + +A whistle sounded from below. Douglas was coming to announce that the +buckboard was waiting. “Hello! How did you get up there?” he called, +stopping beneath the hemlock. + +“Lay low! Here comes teacher! Now we’ll catch it!” said Ted, for at that +moment Fräulein came out to see what the shouting meant. + +If Jean and Frances had waved their hands to her from an air-ship +Fräulein could not have been more amazed. Her exclamation ran up the +scale to high “C” as she rushed to the foot of the tree. + +“We came up to signal to Bolster,” Jean called down. + +“Come up too, Fräulein! It’s as easy as pie!” shouted Frances. + +“You ask me to climb up! to kill myself!” cried Fräulein. “No, but I +make Douglas go after you to help you down—dat you break not your necks! +You, Bob and Ted, it is _you_ vat took my girls up dat tree! I tell Dr. +Hamilton, and he vill export you from his camp!” + +Douglas went up the tree as easily as a monkey. “Well, you’re great old +climbers!” he said admiringly, when he reached the platform. “It was +mighty nervy work for girls!” + +“Do you think we’ll be in time for the doubles?” asked Jean. + +“We’ll have to hustle,” replied Douglas. + +They came down slowly and cautiously, poor Fräulein watching them +anxiously. + +“Meine kinder, how could you!” said Fräulein, reproachfully, as they +reached the ground. “Suppose you had been killed,—den vat vould de poor +parents do?” + +“Mine would say I was a child without a fault,” replied the Mouse. + +“Dis is no laughing matter, Frances,” said Fräulein severely. “It is a +vunder you did not lose your lives! You did very, very wrong! Ach, did +you not know better? Ach, weh, your frocks,—how dirty! And Jean, how you +haff torn your skirt!” + +Then for the first time the girls noticed the state of their apparel. +Frances ruefully examined the sleeves of her white guimpe which were +torn and soiled, though her brown linen skirt had withstood the climb. +Jean looked down aghast at her blue chambray, ripped at the belt and +displaying a jagged rent. + +“Too bad! That’s such a dinky dress!” said Douglas, sympathetically. + +“My children,” said Fräulein, her kind heart aching, “it does me much +sorrow to tell you, but if ve start not directly, ve shall be too late +to see our girls race, and so ve haff to leaf you behind. Dere is no +time to vait for you to change your frocks.” + +“It won’t take a second,” said Frances. + +“Why, Fräulein, we can’t stay at home!” cried Jean. “We _must_ see Carol +and Cecily race! We’ll be ready in five minutes!” + +“Can’t we wait for them? I’ll drive fast,” said Douglas. + +But Fräulein was firm. “If ve vait for you no vun vill see our race,” +she said. “I cannot disappoint Gladys and Grace and Pamela.” + +“Then we’ll go without changing our dresses!” cried Jean, with growing +excitement. “People won’t be looking at _us_! They’ll be looking at the +races! I _must_ go, Fräulein! I _will_! My best friends are going to +race, and I _must_ see them! They’ll feel dreadfully if I don’t!” + +“They can roll up in the carriage robes,—then they won’t show,” Douglas +suggested. “Say, Jean, if you had a pin,—” + +“No, you cannot go to de Clintons’ camp like vild Indians; all de summer +people vill be dere,” said Fräulein. “Ve cannot disgrace Mrs. Brook. You +vould haff to dress your hair too, and dere is no time; ve are late now. +I am sorry, dear girls, but if you _vill_ be jimboys!” + +“_Jimboys!_” tittered Frances. “Jean, you and I are _jimboys_!” + +“Go to your tent, Frances!” Fräulein commanded sternly. “And you, +naughty boys, go home immediately!” Sheepishly the young squires +departed. + +“I will _not_ stay at home!” declared Jean, her eyes flashing. But +Fräulein could not stay to argue. She hurried Douglas away, and Jean +could only follow Frances to their tent. She changed her dress in a +fury, throwing the torn chambray across the floor. + +While Jean was still in the tent, storming in the bitterness of her +disappointment, Frances, in a clean guimpe, went off to the kitchen to +console herself with cookies, and came running back with the tidings; +“The canoe’s come!” Out flew Jean, fastening a last button. Sure enough, +there, floating jauntily, tied to the stern of a guide-boat, was the +cedar canoe, a dainty little queen of the water. + +“Bolster must have come while we were dressing, and now he’s gone!” +exclaimed Jean. “Frances, I’m going to take it over, myself! There may +be time yet!” + +“Good for you, Giraffe! I’ll go too, and we’ll have a jolly old lark!” +said Frances, joyously. + +“We’ll have to take the guide-boat and tow the canoe,” said Jean. “Let +me row,—I’m the stronger.” + +They had a good deal of difficulty in pushing the boat off, but finally +succeeded in getting afloat. Jean took the oars and began to pull +vigorously for the opposite shore. + +“I’m going to untie the canoe and tow it myself,” said Frances. Suddenly +she exclaimed, “What _am_ I kicking?” and bending over she picked up a +can. “Ooh! Ugh! It’s bait! Horrid little worms!” + +“What’s bait doing here in one of our boats?” asked Jean in disgust. + +“This isn’t _our_ boat, child!” replied the Mouse calmly. “It’s +Bolster’s. He’s in the kitchen, hobnobbing with Marie.” + +“My senses! And you knew it, and you never breathed a word!” Jean burst +into a peal of laughter. “Well, I can’t help it, now. I’ve got to get +that canoe to Carol in time.” + +The fear of being late grew strong, and Jean toiled on until they were +nearly abreast of Pleasure Island, off which the stake-boat, gay with +flags, was anchored. There were two men on board, and as their skiff +drew near they hailed the girls with warning shouts. + +“They’re yelling for us to go back!” said Frances. + +“I can’t help it!” answered Jean, and she called, “We’re bringing Miss +Armstrong’s canoe! Canoe for the race! Canoe for the race!” + +The obstinate little rowboat rounded the island, and then,—a cry from +Frances! “Oh, Jean, there come the canoes! Go into shore, quick!” + +Jean looked over her shoulder. A quarter of a mile up the lake she could +see Big Pine Camp and the crowd of boats. But between the girls and +their goal four canoes were shooting toward them. Jean pulled with all +her might to bring the boat nearer the island. On came the canoes, +rounded the stake-boat, and shot down the lake again. It was the race of +the younger boys. + +“Oh, dear! We won’t be in time!” sighed Jean. She rowed desperately, +with aching arms and back, but before she had cleared a quarter of the +distance that lay before her, the first race was over and another had +begun. + +“Good gracious! The motor boats are coming now!” screamed Frances, and +Jean looked again. + +A friend of the Hamiltons had lately lent them a motor boat, and in this +race Court and Jack with the _Shark_ and Tom Clinton with his +_Lightning_ were the competitors. Now the _Shark_ and the _Lightning_ +came rushing down upon the frightened girls. Jean tried to turn in +toward the mainland, but in her excitement she pulled on the wrong oar. +Frances was shouting at her, her brain was in a whirl, and the boat was +gyrating in every direction. + +The _Lightning_ in the lead suddenly swerved and darted by, giving the +rowboat a wide berth. The _Shark_ followed suit the next moment. + +“Get in to shore!” the brothers shouted. They whizzed by, and the +rowboat was left tossing in the swells. + +“Go in to shore, can’t you?—before those old things come back!” cried +Frances. “What’s the matter with you, Jean? You’re crazy! Pull on your +right oar,—I mean your left!” + +“Well, do stop screeching,—you rattle me so! I’d like to see _you_ get +to shore!” returned Jean. She collected her wits sufficiently to pull +the proper oar, and brought the boat well in toward the land. Frances, +looking forward, could see the crowded dock and the judge’s stand, a +float with flags waving over it. Jean, facing the other way, could watch +the race as it swept around the stakeboat. + +“Good! Court and Jack are catching up! Look, Frisk!” she cried. Unlucky +order! The sudden turn which Frances made sent her cookies off her lap. +She dived for them, and upset, not the boat,—but the bait! Over went the +can, and forth crawled the earthworms. + +“Ooh! The horrid wiggly worms! Ooh!” Frances drew her feet out of harm’s +way. + +“Frances, the canoe!” At Jean’s shriek of anguish, Francis looked back. +She had been towing the canoe carelessly with one hand and had let go in +her excitement. The _Hist-oh-Hist_ was putting a distance between +herself and the rowboat as fast as the breeze could carry her, and +making coquettish little bows of farewell as she danced on the wavelets. + +“Give me an oar, quick!” cried Frances. + +Jean wrenched an oar from the rowlock and passed it to Frances, but the +Mouse in her frantic haste missed it, and with a splash it went swimming +away after the canoe. + +“You idiot! Why didn’t you catch it? Now we’re stuck—we’ll lose the +canoe! Oh, what made you!” scolded Jean, backing water madly with one +oar and sending the boat around in a circle. + +“Well, I couldn’t help it!” said Frances, with injured innocence. “Let’s +yell for somebody to come and get us!” Both girls waved their hands and +screamed, “Help! Help!” at the top of their voices. But they had already +become objects of curiosity, and a skiff was pushing off to their +relief. + +The motor boats came rushing back, the _Shark_ now abreast of the +_Lightning_. + +“Take it easy! Well come back for you after the race!” shouted Court. +But the course for the motor boats was to be three times around the +stake-boat, and meanwhile the rescuer in the skiff was speeding toward +the girls. + +“It’s Douglas!” they cried. + +“Keep cool! You’re all right!” he called as he came skimming up to them. +“Hooray! You got here after all, didn’t you! And brought the canoe +within hailing distance, anyway!” + +Jean and Frances greeted him with the story of the lost _Hist_. + +“You’re in time,” said he. “They put off our race. It comes next.” + +“Oh, joy!” exclaimed Jean. “Go after the canoe, Douglas! Leave us here.” + +“No, I’ve got to get you into port,” said the boy, seizing their +painter. “Court and Jack’ll get her after the race. Well, you _have_ got +pluck! First you go up the big hemlock, and then you get into the races! +I’d like to see the thing _you’re_ afraid of!” + +“We were afraid of those motor boats!” laughed Jean. + +“It looked as if you were going to get rammed, sure thing!” said +Douglas. “Wasn’t it lucky,—I’d just put the horses up and got into the +boat when you started waving. Say! you must have worked like blazes to +get that boat up!” + +Keeping well in shore he towed the boat up to the dock. The +Huairarwee-ites were wrought up to a high pitch of excitement at finding +who the girls were who had run foul of the races. + +“We’ve brought the _Hist_!” called Jean, “only Frances let go and we +lost her! She’s way down there!” + +“You loves! You lambkins! You little bricks! You’ve saved the day!” +cried Carol. “How in the world did you do it without being drowned?” + +The heroines disembarked amid a babel of questioning, and told their +tale, both speaking at once in a wild jumble. + +“Girls, it was perfectly splendid of you!” said Cecily. “You were +terribly plucky!” + +“I’m _so_ glad you won’t have to miss the race!” said Carol. “I was +ready to wring my hands and tear my hair when I found they’d left you at +home, and St. Cecilia nearly wept!” + +But poor Fräulein tragically declared, “Never, never again vill I trust +you out of my sight!” + +The _Shark_ was in the lead as the motor boats came back to the goal for +the third time, and as she reached the red flag ten seconds ahead of her +rival a cheer hailed the Hamiltons. But the brothers did not stop to be +congratulated. They shot down the lake again after the fugitive _Hist_. + +It was while awaiting their return that Jean heard a young lady behind +her say, “That looks like one of the girls that were up in that great +tree! Isn’t she the one that shouted at us through the megaphone?” + +“Yes,” a man’s voice responded, “that tree must be their signal station. +They must have a strenuous lot of girls over at Black Bear Camp! They’ve +named it ‘Camp Huairarwee,’ now,—haven’t they? They ought to call it +‘Camp Hurrah-wee!’” + +Jean’s cheeks grew hot. Involuntarily she glanced back and recognized +two of the young people whom she had mistaken for the Fultons. Carol +glanced back too. Then, putting her arm around Jean, she said to the +speakers, “Excuse me,—the girls mistook you for people they knew. They +were trying to send a message to have my race postponed till my own +canoe could get here.” Her cheeks as well as Jean’s were flushed, and +the quiet dignity of her manner was enough to check any further comment +on the strenuous girls of Huairarwee. + +Jean forgot her embarrassment as she saw the _Shark_ returning with the +_Hist-oh-Hist_ in tow, bobbing gaily over the water. Court and Jack +presented the captured canoe to Carol and had their reward in the thanks +of the radiant girl. + +Then it became a reality—the race that had already been lost and won in +Carol’s and Cecily’s dreams. The ten competitors became the center of +interest: eight bronzed, athletic young fellows, a tall, lithe lass, the +bonniest of all the girl campers, and a fair-haired slip of a damsel in +whom the spirit of a battle maid was stirring. The girls took their +places first, Carol in the stern of the _Hist_, Cecily in the bow, and +paddled away to their starting point, fifty yards beyond that of their +rivals. The blue canoes of Pitch-off and Tamarack, green Catamount, and +red Poke-o’-Moonshine were brought into line. A pistol was fired,—the +paddles, ready poised, cut the clear water, and the race began! + +Thrilling, tingling exultation and delight Carol and Cecily found it at +first, as they plunged their paddles downward and lifted them again from +the foaming water to cleave it once more, quick as lightning, with +another strong, perfect stroke. Muscle and will-power, they threw all +into the work. Carol felt almost as if the _Hist_ was consciously +obeying her, and as if she could infuse her own spirit into this summer +friend of hers; and Cecily, doing her best to bring glory to Huairarwee, +could feel how Carol’s skill and greater strength were helping to keep +them ahead. On and on they rushed. Larger and larger the stake-boat +loomed, but as they neared it the splash of other paddles made them +throw one backward look. Poke-o’-Moonshine seemed to be fast gaining on +them; Catamount was pressing her hard; Pitch-off and Tamarack were +closing in. + +Now they were nearly up to the boat with its rainbow of flags, and they +could hear “Go it, Huairarwee!” “Hit her up, Poke-o’-Moonshine!” Arms +aching, wills resolute, the girls gathered up that reserve strength that +lies ready for the moment of need. The _Hist_ fairly leaped forward, and +with a dextrous turn of her paddle Carol made her sweep round the +stake-boat, almost grazing its stern. They heard a cheer, and were on +the homeward course. Less than a quarter of a mile more! but the +exultation in the work was gone. The race had become for them nothing +but desperate effort—dizzying swiftness of motion. Poke-o’-Moonshine was +fast eating up the distance between them. Every stroke was pain now, but +both girls had the same resolve, “I don’t care what happens to me. I +_will_ do it! I _will_!” They gathered up all their remaining strength +and threw it into the last moments of the contest. + +The crowd of onlookers saw the _Hist_ darting up to the finish with her +red antagonist almost bumping her, the three others following them +close. Boys were shouting to their champions to “Hit her up!” and girls, +half mad with excitement, were calling encouragement to their sisters in +the cedar canoe. + +“Oh, Carol! Cecily! beat, beat, beat!” Jean’s whole eager soul was +crying out. As if in answer, the _Hist_ shot forward. Again, again, +again, the paddles left the water, the foam boiled up around the bows, +and then—a cheer! The _Hist-oh-Hist_ had passed the scarlet flag half a +canoe’s length ahead of Poke-o’-Moonshine! Amid the storm of applause +the winners glided up to the dock. + + [Illustration: AS IF IN ANSWER THE “HIST” SHOT FORWARD.] + +Court, at the top pitch of enthusiasm, helped them from the canoe, and +while he was congratulating them Jean hurled herself on Carol’s neck, +then on Cecily’s, and hugged them tight. + +Freak races and tilting followed; and then, the regatta over, the +victors received their prizes. Each of the boys was presented with a +banner, and a blue and gold flag was soon flaunting proudly at the stern +of the _Shark_. + +“The cup is awarded to Miss Carol Armstrong and Miss Cecily Brook, of +Camp Huairarwee!” Mr. Clinton announced. The girl champions stepped +forward and received a great two-handled silver cup beautifully +embossed. + +“We present this cup to Camp Huairarwee,” said Carol, and, while Cecily +held the silver trophy aloft, she took Jean and Frances each by the +hand. “We four won it together,” she said. And Huairarwee cheered again. + +But two of the victorious quartette found themselves soon tumbling down +from the mountain-top of glory. After the triumphant return to camp, and +the merry dinner in honor of the day, Miss Hamersley, with an ominous +face, called Jean and Frances to her tent. + +“Now for a squelching,” quoth the Mouse. Jean’s head went up proudly. + +“Keep a grip on your sword, now, Queenie,” whispered Carol, with a +sympathizing pat on Jean’s shoulder, as the two battle maids marched +past her to the court-marshal. + +Miss Hamersley sternly reproved her adventurous charges for having run +headlong into danger, warning them that if they showed themselves so +foolhardy again they might expect to find themselves sent home. With a +sarcastic smile she also reminded Jean that _Bob_ might have been +entrusted with the intended megaphone message to Bolster, and she +assured them that she considered the hemlock escapade not only dangerous +but hoydenish and unladylike. This cut Jean to the quick, and though she +closed her teeth tight to imprison the Storm Child spirit, she retired +to her own tent with angry steps, there to pace up and down burning with +indignation. + +“I never knew anything so unjust! We helped to win the race, and in +return we’re told we may be sent home and disgraced forever!” + +Suddenly, with a rush like a mountain gale, Carol came in, caught Jean, +whirled her round, pulled her down on a cot, and gave her a warm kiss. +“What’s all this declaiming about?” she asked, laughing. + +“Was I talking aloud?” asked Jean. + +“_Were_ you? I thought it was Hamlet at least! Poor little Queenie! Did +Miss Hamersley hammer so hard that she had to go off and play +Shakespeare all by her little lonesome?” + +“Carol, Miss Hamersley’s too unjust for anything! She threatened to send +us away from camp!” + +“That was only a warning, to keep you from drowning yourselves, +childie!” + +“We weren’t in any real danger,” said Jean. + +“Yes, Jean, you were.” Carol’s merry face grew serious. “You don’t know +yet how to manage a boat in a sudden emergency. Suppose you’d been +swamped by those motor boats! And it was dreadfully risky, climbing the +hemlock, too! Jean,”—and the clear brown eyes looked steadily into the +blue ones—“promise me you won’t do such things again. It would break my +heart if anything happened to my Little Sister.” + +“But I had to get that canoe up to you somehow,” Jean protested. “You +said yourself it helped you to win.” + +“Yes, I’m sure it did,” said Carol. “And you were a splendid, brave Joan +of Arc to do it. Cecily’s name for you suits you to a ‘t.’ And you +pretty nearly did get burned at the stake in those dreadful woods, +didn’t you, poor little martyr? But, Jean darling, which do you think I +care most about, _you_ or winning races?” + +“Me, I suppose,” said Jean with a laugh. + +“I should rather think I did! millions and millions of times! If +anything had happened to you to-day, Jean, I wouldn’t have gotten over +it as long as I lived.” + +Jean’s eyes were fixed on her friend’s earnest face. Suddenly she threw +her arms around Carol’s neck. “I’ll never do anything to worry you +again, Carolie dear!” she said. “I promise.” + +“Come out, Giraffe!” sang a merry voice. Frances was peeping around the +tent-flap. + +“Come in, Mousie, and comfort your Queen,” said Carol. + +“Carol,” said Frances, dropping down on the cot beside her, “don’t you +think Miss Hamersley’s terribly old-maidy to call us hoydens? I don’t +see why it was any worse for us to be yelling at strangers from the top +of a tree than it was for Bob and Ted. We’re only little girls, anyway.” + +“Rather sizable and imposing girls, I should say,” remarked Carol. + +“But wasn’t it hateful of those people to talk about my shouting, and +say we must be a strenuous lot of girls!” said Jean. “I’m glad you spoke +up for us, Carol. My, but you looked high and haughty!” + +“I was furious!” said Carol. “But we poor ‘Hurrah-wee girls’ have bobbed +up serenely from our troubles by this time—haven’t we?” + +“Yes, indeed, and I’ll look three times before I shout, after this,” +said Jean, laughing. “You’ve smoothed me out beautifully, you dear, old +Big Sister!” + + * * * * * + +That evening around the camp-fire, an exultant ring of girls woke the +echoes with the latest Huairarwee yell: + + “One, two, three, four! + Two, three, one, four! + What are we for? + Huairarwee? + With a C. and an A. and an R. O. L., + and a _Ce_ and a _Ci_ and an L. and a Y.! + Armstrong and Brook! + And the cup they took! + Huair rah! rah! rah! rah! rahwee!” + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + CONSPIRATORS + + +“Douglas, that’s going to sail like a dream!” + +“Like a nightmare!” Douglas corrected. He was busy with wood and canvas +over a model of an air-ship, to the building of which he had been +devoting his leisure moments. + +“You’re going to turn out an inventor—I know you are!” said optimistic +Jean. “Some day you’ll build an air-ship that’ll beat all the others +they’ve ever made, and make your fortune!” + +“Oh, sure! Some day! Some thirtieth of February!” said Douglas. + +“Thirtieth of February!” repeated Jean. “Oh, pshaw! there isn’t any. +Well, I know something you could do now, anyway. Why don’t you make +little toy air-ships just like this one? I’m sure they’d sell like +everything.” + +“That’s an _idee_!” said Douglas. + +“Oh, do it, Douglas!” begged Jean. “I’m sure you could earn lots of +money. You might make enough to pay your way right through school. You +might start a regular fad for toy air-ships! Do try!” + +“I wonder if I _could_ make a hit with this sort of thing,” said +Douglas. “It would help me out a good bit.” + +“You’ll earn enough here this summer to get to school _this_ year, won’t +you?” + +“I can get to _night_ school all right.” + +“Night school! Why, what’ll you have to do that for?” + +“Because I’ll have to work through the day,” he replied. “I can get a +place in a store easy enough, and pay my board that way.” + +“How much will your board cost?” asked Jean. + +“Oh, about a hundred.” + +“Fury! But you’re saving up six dollars a week here, you told me. And +you’ll be here till—?” + +“Till September fifteenth,” said Douglas. “I’ll have sixty-six dollars +by that time.” + +“Why, that isn’t much more than half your board! But there are the +twenty-five Court gave you for your canoe.” + +“I had to use that to pay back a man in Algonquin. He lent me +twenty-five after Father died,—when I was coming here.” + +“Oh, Douglas, it’ll be just horrid for you to go to night school and +work all day in a store! You’ll kill yourself!” + +“I wouldn’t be good for much if I wasn’t tough enough for that,” +answered Douglas. + +“I’m going to ask Father to help him, when he comes on,” thought Jean, +as Douglas ran off in answer to a call to launch a canoe. “But oh, dear, +that won’t be till October, and it’s so long to wait!” + +A letter from Jean’s parents was due, and it arrived the next morning +and sent her darting through the camp to find Carol. “Carolie, I’m going +to have a canoe of my own!” she cried. + +“Jean! not really! How perfect!” exclaimed Carol. + +“Yes! It’s a birthday present ahead of time! Father says he knows I’d +rather have a canoe than anything else, so he’s giving me my present now +instead of in October. He’s sent word to Mr. McLean,—that’s his partner +here,—to send me thirty-five dollars to buy one. Now you’ll have the +_Hist-oh-Hist_, and I shall have _my_ canoe, and we can go out together. +Isn’t it the loveliest thing that ever happened!” + +“I should think it was! He’s a daddy worth having!” said Carol. “You +deserve a canoe—you’ve worked so hard learning to paddle, and you do it +so splendidly now. Let’s get Cecily and Douglas to go with us over to +Crystal Lake, and we’ll pick out a beauty for you.” + +“I do hope Mr. McLean’ll hurry up and send the money,” said Jean. “I +want to have all the time I can to paddle my own canoe! Oh, my daddy’s +such an old darling! I must write to him this minute!” And setting off +at her usual whirlwind pace she ran pell-mell into Douglas’s air-ship, +which lay on the ground awaiting its builder. Happily no damage was +done, but when she had smoothed the crumpled sail, she went on slowly, +with a thoughtful wrinkle in her forehead. + +When the afternoon’s mail brought her the expected check Jean surprised +her friends by her quiet way of receiving her birthday gift. + + * * * * * + +A deer-jacking excursion was planned for that evening, and the Hamiltons +and several guides were to come with skiffs and lanterns to take the +Huairarwee campers out on the bloodless hunt. Night fell; the stars +began to twinkle between clouds that promised showers before morning, +and while the other girls were having an impromptu dance in the +bungalow, Jean ran down to the beach on an errand of her own. Presently +a small sun shining out in the gloom, and a manly baritone, a boyish +treble and a sweet contralto, singing “Here’s to good old Yale” +announced that Court and Rose, with one of the Talcott boys, were rowing +toward Huairarwee with a jack-lantern at their bow. + +“Land ho! Hello, Jean!” called Ted, turning the lantern light upon the +solitary figure standing like a sentinel on Camp-fire Rock. Jean ran +down to the landing. + +“Well, the deer are all ready for us,” said Court as he stepped ashore +and helped his sister out. “I’ve rounded up all the crack herds in the +Adirondacks, and they’re waiting for us over at Lonesome Pond, with +their company smiles on.” + +“I’ll go and tell the girls we’re here,” said Rose, starting up the path +toward the camp. + +Ted busied himself tying the boat, and Jean seized the opportunity to +whisper to Court, “I want to speak to you about something. It’s a +secret. I can’t tell anybody but you.” + +“Whew, that’s a compliment!” said Court: “I feel my head expanding.” + +A second sun shone out over the dark water, and they heard a whistle +like a screech owl’s cry. + +“Oh, that’s Douglas!” said Jean. “Come into the boat-house quick—he +mustn’t hear for the world!” + +“The plot thickens! I’m getting excited,” remarked Court. “Ted, I have +something to see Jean about. You stay here and patrol the coast.” He +hurried with the eager girl into the safe retreat of the boat-house. + +“We’re all right here,” said he. “Go ahead! I’ll be an oyster.” + +“I don’t want to tell Carol till I’ve done it, because I’m afraid she’ll +stop me off, and I _do_ want to help him!” began Jean. + +“First rate policy! Do what you want first, and ask advice +afterwards—that’s _my_ way!” said Court. “_Him_ means Tony Harrel, of +course.” + +“No indeed! It’s Douglas!” laughed Jean. “He isn’t earning half enough! +He’ll have only sixty-six dollars saved when his work’s over this +summer, and his board in the city is going to cost him a hundred; so he +says he’ll have to work in a store next winter, and just go to night +school.” + +“Yes, I know,” said Court. “He’s going to find it pretty up-hill work, +I’m afraid.” + +“But if he gets thirty-five more,” Jean went on, “that’ll be one hundred +and one dollars, and then he can pay his board and go to _day_ school, +and won’t have to work. And I’m sure he ought to get ten dollars for his +air-ship—it’s such a beauty. That’ll help to buy him some new clothes.” + +“That sounds like good arithmetic,” Court assented. “But as to the +air-ship business, why, as we say, he’d better not take an inventory of +his gallinaceous fowls till they’ve passed the egg-shell stage! And +where are the thirty-five coming from?” + +“Here they are!” said Jean triumphantly, holding out the precious check. +“It’s my birthday present. Father meant me to buy a canoe, but I know +he’ll let me spend it any way I like. So won’t you please take it and +get it cashed and give Douglas the money, without telling him where it +comes from? He won’t take it if _I_ give it to him. Will you, please?” + +Her earnest, pleading look would have made it hard to refuse her +anything. Court looked down at her with a new expression in his merry +face. But he hesitated. “Jean, you ought not to,” he said. “It’s too +much, and it’s your birthday present. You mustn’t give it away like +that. We’ll find some way to set Douglas on his feet without spoiling +your birthday. He’s got to rough it, anyhow. It’ll make a man of him.” + +“It’ll spoil my birthday if I _don’t_ do it,” Jean declared. “Please, +Court! I thought you’d help me, because you bought his canoe, and you’re +all the time doing things for people. Mrs. Brook says so.” + +“Oh, my great-aunt’s going to foot all _my_ bills, you know,” said +Court. “Jean, you’re a trump to want to do it, but you ought not to, +really. Your father wants you to have the canoe, and _you_ want it like +everything, too, I know you do! Douglas wouldn’t have you spend your +money on him for a good deal!” + +“But he won’t know it’s my money! And I don’t want a canoe half as much +as I want to help him, really and truly and honestly! I’m going to give +the money to Douglas _anyway_—only I don’t know how I can do it unless +you’ll help me.” + +Court looked at her with an odd smile. “Hasn’t that pin something to do +with it?” he asked, laying a finger on the sword Caritas. Jean nodded +with an answering smile. + +“All right. I’ll do it,” said Court. “And I’ll tell Douglas _your_ +great-aunt sent it. Shall I?” + +“I’m afraid he’d guess, then,” laughed Jean. + +“Well, suppose we don’t give it to him till the fall. He won’t need it +till then, and you’ll be safe out of the way by that time, so he can’t +give it back!” + +“That’s a fine idea!” said Jean, delighted. “But please take the check +now and keep it for me, won’t you? The girls will just try to make me +buy the canoe if _I_ keep it.” + +“All right. I’ll give you a receipt for it. You’ll have to endorse it, +though. Here’s my fountain pen. Write your name across _there_.” + +Jean wrote her name on the back of the check. “Thank you ever so much!” +she said gratefully. “I’m so glad you’ll help me.” + +Her confederate gave her a brotherly pat on the shoulder. “Jean, I’m +proud to know you!” He took the slim little hand in his big strong one +and shook it heartily. “But we’ll have to come out of hiding now, if we +don’t want to be caught!” + +“You won’t tell a soul, will you?” Jean asked. + +“Mum’s the word!” + +They stole out of their covert in the nick of time. Douglas had landed +already. Jack was putting in to port; the rest of the guideboats were +following in his wake; and the Huairarwee girls were hurrying down to +the dock. + +“You come with Rose and me, won’t you, Carol?” asked Court. “We’ve got +to keep Toddles in order, and we need consolation.” + +“Toddles! Is that his new name for you, Ted?” exclaimed Carol. “I +wouldn’t allow such an insult if I were you! I’ll come with pleasure and +console _Ted_! I’m sure he needs it the most.” + +“Dandy dark night for it, isn’t it?” said Douglas to Jean. “We can get +close up to the deer. They won’t see us at all. You come in my boat and +work the lantern!” + +“I’d love to!” cried Jean. + +“Say! Who’s coming with _me_?” called Jack. + +“Betty and I,” replied Cecily. + +“I’m going to manage the _jack_!” said Betty. + +“Which? me or the lantern?” Jack inquired. + +“Both of you!” giggled Betty. + +“Frances,” said Fräulein Bunsen, “Dr. Hamilton says you are to go in his +ship. Now promise me dat you and Bob vill not play tricks.” + +The flotilla was soon under way, and there was something delightfully +eerie in gliding through the gloom with the hush of night over lake and +forest, except where the weird hoot of an owl pierced the stillness. + +“Did I ever tell you about the fawn I fished out of Lake Algonquin?” +asked Douglas. + +“No. Tell me!” said Jean eagerly. + +“It was last April. I found a doe trying to teach her little fawn to +swim. He was a poor, weak little fellow, and the water was snappy cold. +He was out way up to his neck, and so freezing he couldn’t get back. He +was nearly drowned!” + +“Poor little darling! What a mean old mother to make him go bathing in +_April_!” cried Jean indignantly. + +“She _was_ a kind of a Spartan mother, wasn’t she?” said Douglas. “Well, +I reached over and fished him out and rubbed him and dried him, and if +that doe didn’t stand there watching me, as pleased as Punch! Then they +trotted off into the woods.” + +“Why didn’t you take them both home and keep them for pets?” asked Jean. +“Oh, I hope some fawns’ll go swimming to-night!” + +Sky and water were black by the time they reached the extreme end of the +lake, some five miles from camp. Then came a march over the “carry,” the +men hauling the boats over the short spongy trail, to re-embark on the +inky waters of Lonesome Pond. In another half hour they were nearing the +place where the deer were accustomed to come down to drink, undisturbed +by the blaze of camp-fires or the sound of human voices. + +“I feel as if we were Pilgrim Fathers escaping from the Indians!” +whispered Jean. The searchlight lanterns had been fastened to the bows +of the boats, and she never tired of turning hers from side to side, +lighting up the black water, now on the right, now on the left. + +“There’s a doe with two fawns!” Douglas whispered. + +“Where?” asked Jean under her breath. + +“Right ahead there!” + +She flashed her jack forward. There, with their feet in the ripples, +stood the doe and her twin fawns. Dazzled by the strange light, the wild +mother and her children waited motionless, as if the lantern were +Medusa’s head and had turned them into stone. Their smooth coats looked +white as snow as the light shone upon them, and Jean wished that they +would _stay_ spell-bound, that she might stroke the pretty heads of +those bewitching babies. But any sign betraying the human beings behind +that blinding glare would have sent the trio bounding back into the +depths of the woods; and the canoe passed on, leaving the doe and fawns +to wonder at the next lantern, which was Betty’s. + +A two-year-old buck—a most graceful young prince of the forest—gazed +fascinated at their light, a half mile further on; and as many as six +deer, in all, rewarded their search before they finally turned homeward. + +Thunder was growling as the party came skimming back toward Huairarwee, +and a pelting shower broke over them just as the girls reached their +tents. Once safe under the canvas, there was no temptation to step out +again into the rain; but Carol, as she turned to put out her light, saw +an envelope—pierced through with the point of an umbrella—intrude itself +under her tent-flap. Opening it, she read: + + _Dear Big Sister_, + + I can’t go to bed without telling you, because I never keep any + secrets from _you_. I’m _not_ going to buy a canoe, after all. Don’t + tell any one, but I gave my check to Court to-night, and he is going + to give the money to Douglas after we have gone away, to help him + through school next winter. Please don’t try to make me take it back + again, for I _won’t do it_. + + JEAN. + +Presently an envelope came riding into _Jean’s_ tent on an umbrella tip, +and the note that she found in it said: + + _Darling little Sister_, + + The sacrifice is worthy of the queen! You and I together will get + Douglas through school somehow, won’t we? Good-night and a kiss, + from + + CAROL. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + THE RUNAWAY + + +“You dear old Cyclone! I wish they’d let _me_ ride you, some day! You +behaved beautifully with Carol. You’d be just as good if _I_ were on +your back, wouldn’t you, Beauty?” Jean stood holding the bridle of +Court’s mettlesome horse, and playing with the jet black mane. + +Cyclone had completed his post-graduate course, and a few days before +Carol had ridden him and enjoyed a glorious gallop. In fact, a riding +mania had developed among the campers, the girls having learned that +there were saddle-horses to be hired. Three, warranted gentle as +kittens, were regularly engaged, and weekly riding parties were now the +rule, the girls taking turns. Jean had possessed a pony before she came +to school, and could ride well, but so far her turn had not come, and +she now looked longingly at Eunice, Nancy and Helen, whom Court and Jack +were helping into the saddles of Buttercup, Prince and Bess. + +A fishing excursion was on foot as well, and the cavalcade set forth for +Shadow Brook, famous for its trout. Court on Cyclone, and Jack on Tom +Clinton’s Dandy, escorted the three girls on horseback. Douglas drove +Fräulein and ten jolly young campers in a four-seated wagon, while Miss +Hamersley and Carol were in charge of two surreys. A long journey over +hilly roads brought the party to a farm where the horses were left, and +then came a tramp through the woods to the brook. + +Two hours of whipping the stream were rewarded with a fine catch. At +noon a fire was built, panful after panful of trout set sizzling, and +luncheon laid out on a rock by the brookside. The deliciously crisped +little fish were pronounced the best ever fried; but none of them did +Jean count as the result of her angling. She had, to be sure, landed one +little red-speckled beauty, but her heart had so smitten her at its +pathetic floundering that she had restored it to the water, refusing to +bereave any more Shadow Brook families. + +After luncheon came a shooting match, for Carol and Douglas had brought +their rifles. Carol, Court and Jack proved themselves excellent shots, +but the honors were unanimously awarded to Douglas. After beating all +the rest at the hundred-yard range, he fastened a large piece of white +birch bark to a tree, and fired at it from a distance of twenty yards. +It looked like poor marksmanship when his first shot pierced the bark +near the top instead of in the center, as Jean had hoped; but his next +was cleverly put directly below the first, the third and fourth each +exactly under the last. + +“Hold up, Scotchy! You’re wasting shot,” said Jack. But Douglas +continued to blaze away, and presently Jean, standing at his side, +beheld a large J on the birch target. + +“Go it, old Hawkeye!” laughed Court, and Douglas did “go it,” until a +perfectly formed L appeared beside the J. + +“How do you like my embroidery?” he asked Jean, presenting her with her +initials. + +To Jean that target was a precious trophy, and she tucked it safely away +in her luncheon basket, resolved that it should have an honored place in +_Castle Afterglow_ next fall. + +It was now high time to start home, and they tramped back to the farm. +Horses and carriages were brought out, and Frances, in high feather, was +helped by Jack into Buttercup’s saddle, for she was learning to ride and +was to take Eunice’s place on the journey back to camp. + +“All aboard, Queenie! Hurry up, or you’ll be left behind! Get in with +me!” called Carol. Jean turned from the farmyard fence through which she +was petting two pretty Jersey calves, to find that the wagons were +filling. Snatching a handful of clover, she gave Carol’s bay span, Major +and Billy, a nibble apiece; then climbed into the surrey beside Dorothy +Stone, for Eunice was already sitting with the driver. + +Carol kept at the head of the procession. Jack, on Dandy, led Buttercup +by a strap, keeping company with the four-seater driven by Douglas. +Court, Nancy and Helen, riding behind the second surrey, brought up the +rear. + +On the homeward road the party suddenly encountered two enormous bears, +although hitherto the campers had penetrated the forests again and again +without meeting any larger beasts than rabbits and porcupines. These +were tame bruins, however, and their swarthy savoyard masters were +leading them towards Halcyon Inn. But wild or tame, it was all the same +to Major, on whose side the clumsy creatures came waddling out from a +cross-road. The bay span had been recommended as well broken to +automobiles, but no one had thought of inquiring whether they could +stand another and very different test of a horse’s courage, the +proximity of a bear. Major disgraced his military title by shying +violently to Billy’s side of the road, crowding his mate into the ditch. +This was too much for Billy’s equanimity. Major’s jumping and dancing +were infectious. Both horses were now plunging; a moment more and they +were running! Carol braced herself and dragged at the reins with all her +might, without the slightest effect. It all happened with the swiftness +of a dreadful dream. The terrified girls were borne onward with a fury +that made earth and sky swim before their vision. Trees whirled past, +stones flew, the carriage bounded from side to side and swayed as if it +would go over. Happily, the road was level for a space, but not far +ahead it descended a steep hill to Beaver Bridge, where it turned +sharply at right angles. _There_, unless this headlong pace could be +stayed in time, the runaway must have a fearful ending. Carol wound the +reins about her wrists and pulled in with all her strength. She might as +well have tried to check the mill-race at Beaver dam. Eunice, grasping +the side of the wagon with one hand, tried to help Carol with the other. +Behind her Jean sat, gripping the arm of her seat, dazed with the horror +of that frenzy of motion. + +“Oh, let’s jump!” cried Dorothy, starting up; and the impulse to spring +out seized poor Jean also. + +“No, don’t jump!” shouted Carol, over her shoulder. “Sit still! Hold +her, Jean!” + +The quick command brought Jean to her senses. It came from the girl whom +she had learned to cling to and to trust. Before Dorothy could throw +herself from the carriage Jean flung her arms around her and forced her +back into her place. “Sit still, Dorothy! sit still!” she cried. “You’ll +be killed if you jump!” She dragged Dorothy down upon the floor of the +rocking, swaying carriage, and held her fast. As the frightened girl +ceased struggling there came a clatter of hoofs behind. Like a black +thunderbolt Cyclone swept up alongside the runaway, and Court seized +Billy’s bridle. + + * * * * * + +The instant that Major had shied and plunged at the sight of the bears +Douglas and Miss Hamersley had pulled up, telling the girls to get out +and stand by the roadside. Court ordered Nancy and Helen to ride back to +a safe distance, lest their horses should become excited, and then, +putting Cyclone to the gallop, shot after the runaway. Jack dismounted +and lifted Frances from her horse; then, vaulting into his saddle again +he galloped after his brother. Douglas, as the last girl leaped from his +wagon, sprang down and held his horses with one hand and the now dancing +sorrel with the other. The bears came padding toward them, but Douglas +shouted at their stupid masters, and finally succeeded in turning them +back into the cross-road from whence they had come. + +When Cyclone caught up with the runaway it so happened that the team had +swerved over toward Major’s side of the road, and Court had no choice +but to dash in on the side of the less terrified animal. Hope filled the +girls’ hearts as they saw him seize Billy’s bridle, but the clattering +up of Cyclone had only excited Major the more. Taking the bit in his +teeth he forced his mate along in a still madder gallop toward the pitch +of the hill. + +But Court instantly changed his tactics. Jack was within speaking +distance now, and his brother, dropping Billy’s rein, shouted back to +him, “Do as you see me do!” Then, giving Cyclone his head, he dashed +forward in advance. + +If the descent of the hill were once reached at this tremendous pace by +the flying team, Court knew that all chance of rescue would be over. So +did Carol, and strained desperately on the reins. To the four terrified +girls it looked as if their last hope was gone when they saw their +would-be rescuer let go of Billy and leave them. But the young man knew +what he was about, and galloped furiously on ahead, followed by Jack, +whose spirited mount was quite as swift as Cyclone. Court let his +brother come abreast and shouted his commands. Suddenly, when they had +gained fifty or sixty yards on the runaway, the girls saw them pull up +and spring to the ground. Letting Cyclone and Dandy go, they faced about +with arms outstretched, covering the whole breadth of the road. + +On came the charging horses, the carriage lurching from side to side +behind them. But even Major was not so blind with crazy terror that he +could not see the human barrier before him. He slackened his pace. In +another instant the brothers, leaping to either side, sprang for the +bridles. Court grasped Major’s—Jack, Billy’s. But agile as he was, +Jack’s boyish strength proved unequal to the task. Carried off his feet, +he lost his hold and fell, barely escaping hoofs and wheels. But the +young athlete who had broken Cyclone was clinging to Major with a grip +of iron. He was swept off his feet, indeed, but nothing could break his +hold, and Major, with a strong man’s weight dragging from his head, and +with his nostrils compressed by sinewy fingers, shutting off his wind, +had no choice but to bring his wild course to an end. Before the +declivity was reached it was all over. Panting, quivering, yet subdued, +the horses stopped and stood still. Court held them and calmed them. A +moment more and Jack, too, was at their heads. The girls sprang down. + +“Oh, Court!” cried Carol. “You’ve saved our lives! How can we ever thank +you! Are you really not hurt? Oh, I thought you’d be killed! How _did_ +you do it? How _could_ you hold on?” + +“Oh, that’s nothing when you’re in training. _You_ held on finely, +Carol!” Court tossed his own action lightly off. + +“Eunice helped me splendidly,” said Carol, loyal to her chum. + +“You were mighty plucky, both of you!” said Court. “How do you all feel? +Pretty badly shaken up?” + +“I’m afraid poor Dorothy is,” answered Eunice. “Come and rest on the +bank till you feel better, Dot.” + +Dorothy was weak, and trembling from head to foot, and the other girls, +too, were badly shaken, as their white faces showed. But they poured out +their gratitude, all in one breath, to the hero who had saved them and +the hero, just as brave, who had failed. + +“Much good _I_ was!” growled Jack. “Got yanked off, the first thing!” + +“You risked your life to save us!” said Carol. + +“Yes,” Jean broke in. “You were perfectly splendid, Jack! You jumped +right for Billy and grabbed him, and you’re not nearly as big as Court!” + +“Jackyboy’s all right!” said the taller hero, slapping his disconsolate +brother on the shoulder. “Half the battle was in making the horses slow +up before they got to us. Didn’t you see how Major weakened when he saw +us standing up in front of him like two scarecrows? And Billy, he just +wanted an excuse for stopping, and Jacky gave him a good one.” + +“Jean’s a heroine, too!” said Dorothy. “I wanted to jump, but she +dragged me down on the floor and held me so tight, I couldn’t! She saved +my life!” + +“I wanted to jump, myself, first,” said Jean, as Dorothy squeezed her +hand. + +“You can always trust my battle maid!” said Carol. Her arm trembled as +it stole around the “little sister,” whose life had been put in her +keeping that day. + +In a few moments the four-seater was brought up by Douglas, whose blood +had been all on fire to ride to the rescue. Cecily sprang from the +carriage first of all, caught Jean in her arms, held her tight, and +could not speak a word. The whole party was soon reunited; but there was +no driving home with the runaway team—the teachers would not hear of it, +even though Court offered to take the reins; nor would they allow +Frances to mount Buttercup again. Beyond the bridge was a farmyard, near +which Cyclone and Dandy were found quietly grazing. There, while the +rest went on, with Jack riding as escort, Carol, Eunice, Dorothy and +Jean waited with Court, until Douglas returned to drive them back to +camp. Major and Billy were left at the farm to be called for later. + +“Isn’t somebody going to ride with me?” asked Court, as he prepared to +mount Cyclone and lead Buttercup. + +Eunice and Dorothy were too much unnerved for anything but a carriage. + +“My wrists are too badly strained,” said Carol. “They haven’t any _pull_ +left in them. Jean hasn’t had a ride yet. How do you feel, Jeanie?” + +“Fine! I’m all ready!” answered Jean, keyed up by the excitement. + +“You’re a little brick!” said Court. “See here! A girl with your pluck +ought to be riding Cyclone. Want to try him?” + +“Oh, Court! Really? Will you let me?” cried Jean, in ecstasy. + +“I think he’s the horse for you! I’ll put the leading-strap on him—just +to please Fräulein, you know.” Court put the side-saddle on the big +black horse, changed his own to the sorrel, and jumped Jean up on +Cyclone’s back. + +“The Storm Child riding the Cyclone!” remarked Carol, as she pinned a +linen dust-robe about her for a riding-skirt. + +There was nothing to fear, for, with all his fire, Cyclone was obedient +to his master’s least word; and for Jean that ride was the most glorious +experience of that wonderful summer. As they neared home Court undid the +leading-strap—and to the amazement of her summer sisters, guiding her +spirited charger alone, and rising lightly to his swift trot, the queen +of the battle maids came riding into camp. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + UP THE GOTHICS + + + And, oh, Mammy dear, the best is to come! To-morrow Douglas and Jack + are to take us up the splendid old Gothics, _if_ Mrs. Brook will let + us go. It will be the biggest climb we have had. + + Good-night, Mother darling, + Your own little girl. + +So closed the journal letter that Jean had been writing in her spare +moments. Camp Huairarwee had lately divided its forces. While the +majority of the girls had gone with Miss Hamersley on a trip to +Montreal, the Silver Sword quintette and Nanno, with Carol and Eunice, +Fräulein and Mrs. Brook, had taken the two days’ drive to the beautiful +St. Hubert’s region, to enjoy a taste of mountain climbing. A friend of +Mrs. Brook’s had offered them—for as long as they should desire +it—Chipmunk Lodge, a tiny cottage in the woods; and here a week had +passed, with glorious climbs up Noonmark, Indian Head, and the great +Giant himself, and finally a night in camp on the wild shore of Upper +Ausable Lake. + +Meanwhile, Court and some college friends, with Jack and Douglas, had +set out on a walking trip, and had reached St. Hubert’s in time to join +the girls in a climb or two. To-morrow would be the last day at Chipmunk +Lodge. The young men were booked for a hard, all-day’s tramp, the “round +trip” of the principal peaks, but the boys had planned to spend the day +on the Gothics, and as Jean’s aspiring soul longed to conquer one more +mountain, they had begged the girls to go with them. Douglas had been +over the trail once, and, as he said, he knew “where to go to go on.” +Mrs. Brook was afraid that her charges would be too tired for the drive +back to Halcyon, but though she had not yet given her consent, the boys +had promised to stop on their way to the Gothics, to see whether she had +relented. As Jean was addressing her letter, in came Douglas to return +her sweater, which, having been packed away in his guide-basket, he had +absent-mindedly carried all the way to his lodgings. He took her letter +to mail, and Stella, the stay-at-home on tramping days, followed him to +the door. + +“I hope you won’t get lost on those Gothics to-morrow, without any +guide!” she called after him. Lingering awhile, gazing out into the +dusk, she caught the sound of footsteps, and saw a man slip out from +behind the corner of the porch and disappear among the trees. + +“Oh, dear! Maybe he wanted to steal something!” Stella retreated +indoors, and peeped through the window. But in the shadows no one was to +be seen. + +The girls awoke next morning fresh as mountain thrushes, and as +Fräulein, too, was ready to spread her wings again, Mrs. Brook yielded. + + * * * * * + +“Well, how’s this for a sky-scraper mountain?” Douglas asked Jean, as, +after the long steep climb, they stood at last on the summit. + +“I’m sure it’s as good as an _Alp_!” Jean declared. + +The climbers were standing deliciously near to danger, looking down over +the precipitous mountain-side; and beneath them, on the breast of the +steep incline, stretched the glory of the Gothics, the beautiful, +perilous slides! Great, bold expanses of rock they were, colored with +green and rose, traced with wavy ripples, and leading to the dark forest +that swept downward to the Lower Ausable Lake. + +“Wouldn’t that be a corking place to shoot the chutes!” exclaimed Jack. +“Want to try, Frances?” + +“All right,” she agreed. “Come on!” + +“Nein, mein kindchen, dat vill you _not_!” said Fräulein decidedly. + +“Why not? Douglas says he’s been down,” said Frances. + +“Ach, Frances! eemposseeble!” cried Fräulein. “None but an Alpine guide +could go down _dere_!” + +“Yes, he _did_ go down last year, with his father. Didn’t you, Douglas?” +said Jean proudly. + +“That’s what we did!” answered Douglas. + +“How did you ever do it without breaking your necks?” asked Cecily. + +“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” replied Douglas. “We didn’t take the top +slide—that’s almost straight up and down. We started in through the +trees over there on that side, and kept on till we came out on the big +middle slide. We had tennis shoes, so we could walk all right. But you +can’t take a step without rubber soles. We got in some pretty tight +places, too, I can tell you!” + +“Suppose you had slipped?” said Eunice. + +“We’d have been goners!” answered Douglas. “See those slides way down +there, where the bushes are? That’s the place to get smashed up! There +are awful pitch-off places down there, and it’s full of broken rocks.” + +“What did you do when you got down to the end of the slides?” asked +Carol. + +“We struck Rainbow Brook and followed it down to the Falls. Come over +this way and I’ll show you where we started.” Douglas led the way along +the edge to the bushes on the right of the rocky incline. “There!” he +said, “we went down through those balsams. The ground’s all full of big +holes.” + +“We’ll be blown off if we stay in this wind any longer,” said Eunice. +“Let’s have luncheon. I’m starving.” A sheltered rock was found for a +table, the baskets unpacked, fuel gathered, and a fire built. A pail of +chocolate was heated, ears of corn were roasted, and the merriest of +picnics began. + +“What are the principal parts of gingerbread?” Douglas inquired, as +Cecily was cutting a loaf of that delicacy. + +“Molasses and flour and butter and spices,” replied Cecily, who had made +the loaf. + +“Wrong,” said Douglas. “It’s conjugated, ‘Jingo, gingery, gingerbread, +gimme some!’” + +“Not much ginger in that!” scoffed Jack. “Plant Scotchy’s jokes and +what’ll come up? A grove of chestnuts.” + +“Plant Jack, and what’ll come up? Something young and green,” Douglas +retorted. + +“Plant Douglas, and what’ll come up?” asked Jack. But what was to sprout +no one ever learned. Another climber had arrived on top of the Gothics, +some distance from them; and just then Douglas, presenting his tin cup +for Jean to fill, looked up and saw the shabbily dressed newcomer. The +man’s face was turned away, but there was something striking about his +slight, active figure. Douglas let his hand drop and gazed intently. + +“What _are_ you staring at?” asked Jean, and she turned her head. “Why, +that looks like Tony!” she exclaimed. The other girls started. Jack, who +was lying down at the feast like an ancient Roman, glanced up lazily +over his shoulder. + +“It _does_ look like him!” cried Cecily. + +“It is. I _know_ it is!” Jean insisted. + +“Why, you silly things! What would Tony be doing here of all places?” +laughed Carol. + +“That’s just what I’d like to know,” said Douglas. “He was back at +Halcyon, the last I knew. But it does look mighty like him!” + +“Hi, Tony!” said Jack. “Come here and say howdy! He’s got a grouch on +him—he won’t look around.” + +“If we could only have seen his face!” said Jean. + +“If you want to see his face, I’ll bring him back,” said Douglas. + +“No, don’t! Don’t go for anything!” she begged. “If it’s Tony he might +attack you! He’s your enemy!” + +“Oh, he’s not my enemy!” said Douglas, laughing. “I’m going after him;” +and he started up. + +“Oh, now, Douglas, do leave him alone!” pleaded Eunice. + +“Don’t go after him—_please_!” Betty implored. + +“Scotchy, sit down! You’re frightening the ladies,” said Jack. + +Douglas good-naturedly returned to his sandwiches, and the man +disappeared over the brow of the mountain. + +“I’m perfectly certain it was Tony,” Jean declared. + +“He had a slouch hat just like Tony’s,” said Betty. + +“Oh, I hope he hasn’t bothered Mother!” said Cecily. + +“I hope Stella hasn’t seen him,” added Eunice. + +Carol burst out laughing. “You think that man must have been Tony +because he had black hair and was thin and was dressed something like +him,” she said. “It’s too ridiculous! And you act as if you thought he +was going to murder you!” + +“He hustled off as if he thought _we_ were going to murder _him_,” said +Douglas. “I don’t suppose it really was Tony, though.” + +“It was, too!” declared Frances. “It was just his wicked looking back!” + +“Well, he’s gone now, whoever he is,” said Jack. + +The man did not return to disturb the luncheon again, nor the fun that +followed it, as the party explored the mountain-top, penetrated a small +cave, took snapshots of each other, and played “talking games” as they +lounged among the balsams. + +“Somebody think up a new game,” said Cecily, when all the favorites had +been exhausted. + +“I know what would be fun,” said Jean. “Let’s all make up rhymes. And we +must make them up in five minutes or pay forfeits.” + +Groans followed this proposal. + +“That’s all very well for _you_, Miss Poet, but I couldn’t make up a +rhyme if you gave me a year,” said Betty. + +“Oh, yes, you could!” Jean assured her. “This is only fun—not really +poetry.” + +“Make it ten minutes, and maybe I can wring out two lines from my +tortured brain,” said Carol. “We must have paper and pencils, though. +Bunny, dear, may we steal from you?” + +Fräulein, who was sketching the distant view, sacrificed half a dozen +pencils, as well as several pages from her drawing book, and the boys +produced two more pencils from their pockets. + +“One, two, three—go!” said Douglas, watch in hand, and for ten minutes +there was scribbling and sighing for words. “Time’s up!” he called. + +“Oh, pshaw! I was just thinking of a second verse,” complained Cecily. + +“Eunice, you begin,” said Carol. + +“No, _you_ read—I haven’t the face to,” said Eunice. And Carol read: + + “Oh, girls of Huairarwee, pray where are we now? + Under the sky, on the Gothics’ broad brow. + And here’s a charade that I beg you to guess, + Lest your brains should grow rusty with long idle-_ness_. + My _first_ on your shoulder you never should carry. + My _second_ must solemnly vow not to marry. + My _third_ in a wilderness vast was once sighed for. + My _whole_ through next winter will often be cried for, + When sadly for mountains and valleys we yearn, + And long for the free forest life to return!” + +“You did that in ten minutes! Good work!” said Douglas, and Carol’s +audience clapped vigorously. + +“_Nuns_ have to vow not to marry,” said Cecily, as they studied the +paper. + +“So do _monks_,” said Jean. “Monk—chipmunk! Never carry a chip on your +shoulder!” + +“‘O for a _lodge_ in some vast wilderness,’” quoted Eunice. + +“Chipmunk Lodge!” said Betty. “I’m sure _I’ll_ cry for it next winter +when I’m digging away at school.” + +“So say we all of us,” agreed Jack. + +“I’m more ashamed of mine than ever,” said Eunice, and the valedictorian +of Hazelhurst, from whom some wonderful flight of genius had been +expected, gave them a single couplet: + + “I really can’t think of a word to say! + The wind has blown my wits away!” + +“Poor Una! If we’d only asked you to translate a page of the Iliad you’d +have done it in _one_ minute!” said Carol sympathetically. “Douglas, you +come next.” + +“I’m afraid my voice’ll tremble; mine’s very sad,” said Douglas. He read +in pathetic tones: + + “A chocolate pail up hill I bore; + Of sandwiches ten pounds or more, + Some corn, and all the ladies’ wraps— + But Jack, he carried the gingersnaps! + + And when on top we had our spread, + Old Jacky he came out ahead! + The lunch _I_ carried up, _he_ ate,— + Since then, they say, he’s gained in weight!” + +“I’ll sue you for libel!” Jack fiercely declared, amid the clapping. + +“Now, don’t you boys get fighting till the rhymes are over,” laughed +Cecily. “It’s your turn, Jack.” + +“Ah! ahem! Mine’s called ‘An Ode to Saint Cecilia,’” said Jack. Cecily +started, and grew rosier and rosier as her cousin read his ode: + + “We are a party blithe and gay, + And we have a patron saint. + She does not on the organ play,— + Cecilia, here, doth paint. + + A shining halo is her hair; + Her eyes are like the nut. + I mean they are than stars more fair, + And a beautiful hazel,—but + + No rhyme for hazel do I know, + So I had to say _nut_ instead. + Her cheeks like garden roses glow,— + A dainty pink, not red. + + Her voice is like a silver chime, + We all of us adore her! + +“I couldn’t get any farther,” explained Jack. “The time was up while I +was trying to see how to bring in an _arctic explorer_ to rhyme with +‘_adore her_.’” + +“Jack, I think you’re perfectly awful! You make me feel so silly!” cried +poor Cecily. + +“Well, I like that! Is that all you can say when you have an ode written +to you?” said Jack in an injured tone. “Never mind, the others +appreciate it, if you don’t! They’re encoring! I’ll have to read it over +again: + + ‘We are a party blithe and gay + And we have a....’” + +Cecily tried to snatch the paper away, but Jack coolly rose and stood +before the audience, and she was held by Frances while the ode was +repeated. Her own turn came next. + +“Mine’s too silly for anything, but you know I can’t write poetry,” she +apologized, and she read: + + “I love the beautiful Gothics, + With the view and the rocks and the trees. + The smell of the lovely balsam + My little nose doth please.” + +“You dear little St. Cecilia, that’s just as dear as you are!” said +Eunice. + +“Now, Frances, it’s up to you,” said Jack. + +“I couldn’t do it,” said the Mouse. “I couldn’t think of any words that +rhyme but _giraffe_ and _laugh_, and I promised never to call Jean +‘Giraffe’ again, so I had to give it up.” + +“Read yours, then, Betsy,” said Cecily. And Betty replied: + + “I shan’t + For I can’t.” + +That was all she had written, but it was undeniably a couplet. + +“Good for Queenie! She’s parodied ‘The Skeleton in Armor,’” said Carol, +looking over Jean’s shoulder. Whereupon Jean read the last rhyme: + + “Speak, speak, thou fearful guest, + Who, on the Gothics’ crest, + In shabby garments dress’t, + Comest to daunt us! + We’d rather, in the dark, + Meet a big, hungry shark, + Than have thee, wicked Mark + Antony, haunt us! + + Break a leg, Tony, do! + Also an arm or two! + Then we shall feel less blue, + Horrible Harrel! + We girls would breathe more free + If thou in jail shouldst be; + We’re so afraid of thee,— + All except Carol.” + +“How dare you make me rhyme with Harrel?” cried Carol, as she joined +with a will in the applause. + +“Jean, you’re great! Let’s mail that to Tony!” said Douglas. + +“My poets, it is time to go home, before de night catch us,” said +Fräulein, glancing at her watch. + +“Oh, Fräulein, not yet!” they pleaded. + +“Look at those people!” said Jean. “They’ve just come up. _They_ don’t +think it’s late!” + +A guide and three young men had just appeared on the top, but if they +considered it early, Fräulein could not be brought to agree with them. +So the baskets were shouldered, and the young folks began their tramp +down the trail. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII. + DOWN THE SLIDES + + +“My watch! I’ve lost it!” Jean’s cry of distress made Douglas face +about. + +“Your watch? Why, it’s gone, isn’t it!” he exclaimed. + +“What’s the matter?” called Cecily, rushing down to them. + +“My darling watch! I’ve lost it!” wailed Jean. + +“Oh, Jean! And it was such a love! How _did_ you lose it?” cried Cecily. + +“I lost it because I was an idiot! I knew the pin wasn’t firm, but I +thought it would hold. Oh, why was I so silly? Oh, dear! I’ll never find +it! Carol!” as Carol and Eunice came running down the trail, “I’ve lost +my watch!” + +“Jean! Your beautiful watch!” The older girls joined in the mourning. + +“Oh, we’ll find it,” said Douglas. “I’ll go back and hunt.” + +“I’m going with you,” said Jean. + +“I am, too,” said Cecily. + +“So am I,” said Carol. + +“I suppose I _can’t_, then!” said Eunice. “I’ll have to run on and tell +Bunny. She’ll be frightened out of her five senses if she finds us all +mysteriously vanished! Don’t stay long up there. If you don’t find it +quickly, come right down, or we’ll send the whole force of guides after +you. The boys can go and look for it to-morrow. But you _must_ get back +before dark. Take good care of them, Douglas!” + +The rest of the party were well in advance. Frances, ambitious to reach +home first, had scurried on ahead, pursued by Jack and Betty. Fräulein, +who was never at ease when the Mouse was out of sight, had sped after +the runaways. Eunice now hurried after Fräulein, while Douglas and Jean, +Carol and Cecily, retraced their steps to the top. The three men and the +guide whom they had seen on the summit passed them as they went up, and +in reply to their questioning said they had seen nothing of the missing +treasure. They had met a man near the slides; maybe he had picked it up. + +“I’m going to hunt around in that cave,” said Jean, as they reached the +top. “I remember how I kept catching on the bushes when I was crawling +in.” + +“We’d better divide up, two and two, and hunt in different places,” said +Carol. She and Cecily turned away to find the clump of balsams where the +rhymes had been written. + +Jean and Douglas searched the cave in vain, and coming back walked along +the edge of the precipice, studying every step of their path. No tiny +crystal face or golden disk appeared, and no happy cry of “Found!” came +from the other searchers. + +“Hello! There’s a man down there on the slides!” Douglas suddenly cried +out. + +“Oh! Do you think that’s the man we saw?” + +“Get out the glass,” said Douglas. + +Jean had slung Eunice’s field-glass across her shoulder for the homeward +tramp. She whipped it from the case and tried to keep her gaze steadily +fastened on the figure far below. + +“I’m sure it is!” she cried. “Only the glass wiggles so! I can’t keep it +still! _You_ look.” Douglas took the glass, and while he gazed in his +turn, Jean watched the man breathlessly. He had stepped out from the +trees bordering the edge of the middle slide, and was standing on the +great central expanse of rock. + +“Isn’t it he?” asked Jean. + +“Can’t tell from here, but it looks like him, and I bet he’s got your +watch!” said Douglas. + +Jean started. “Douglas, I _know_ he has! Oh, look! He’s going down!” + +They saw the man drop down upon all-fours, crawl out to the middle of +the slide, and then, crouching, coast downward. + +“I wonder where the old sneak was hiding all the time!” said Douglas. +“Took a nap in that cave, maybe. You old rascal, we’ll send detectives +after you if we don’t find that watch. He doesn’t know there’re two +detectives looking at him now through a glass, does he? Thinks he can +sneak off and nobody spot him!” + +They watched the coaster slide and stop, and slide and stop. + + “‘Break a leg, Tony, do! + Also an arm or two!’” + +quoted Douglas. + +“Oh, don’t! He might!” said Jean. + +“Why, don’t you want him to? My dear sir, + + ‘We’d breathe more free + if thou in jail shouldst be!’” + +A moment later Jean gave a sharp cry. The man was falling. His feet had +shot out from under him, and he was sliding swiftly, helplessly down +that terrible sweep of rock to rocks more terrible below. Jean drew back +and shut her eyes. All at once there came a glad cry from Douglas. “He’s +stopped! He’s caught!” Jean looked again. Some ridge of rock must have +checked the man in his rush to almost certain death, and there he lay, +nearly at the bottom of the central slide. Douglas looked through the +glass and saw the man move as if trying to rise, then drop back and lie +motionless. + +“I’m afraid he’s awfully hurt,” said the boy. “I’ll have to go down to +him.” + +“Oh, Douglas, don’t! Don’t go down!” + +“I’ll have to. He’s hurt, or he wouldn’t he still like that. I can’t +leave him there all alone.” + +“But I’m sure it’s Tony!” + +“What if it is? He’s hurt, and there’s nothing to do but go down and +help him.” + +“But he may not really be much hurt, and he might hurt _you_!” + +“Don’t worry—I’ll be all right.” + +“But you might fall!” + +“Not with tennis shoes. Can you take home the guide-basket?” + +“Yes, but listen! You know I want to save him, just as much as you do! +But why can’t we hurry down and send out guides to help him instead? You +can’t do any good. You can’t carry him down the slides all by yourself!” + +“Well, I can’t leave him there alone, anyhow. If he’s too much hurt to +go on down, I’ll wigwag up to you, and then you hurry along and send the +guides after us.” + +Obscured by the bushes, but lying directly below them, was the top +slide, that almost perpendicular wall, and Douglas took a step downward +through the balsams. Jean caught his arm. + +“Douglas, stop! You’re not going down _that_ way!” + +“Yes, I am. It’s the quickest. Don’t be so scary. I’ll hang on to the +bushes along the edge, and I’ll be all right. Good-by—take care of +yourself.” + +“Good-by, Douglas. I’ll wait here, and then if you signal, I’ll _tear_ +down and get the guides.” + +Jean watched him plunge in among the balsams; then she turned. In the +distance she saw Carol and Cecily, all unconscious of what had happened. +She called to them. + +“Have you found it?” called Cecily, and she and Carol came up on a run. + +“Tony’s fallen down the slides and Douglas has gone after him!” was +Jean’s greeting. + +Carol and Cecily rushed to look over the precipice. “He’s killed!” cried +Cecily, as she saw the motionless figure below. + +“No, he’s not; but he’s hurt, and Douglas has started down right over +the slide here! I couldn’t stop him. He would go!” + +“Isn’t that just like a boy, to choose the wildest way to do a thing!” +exclaimed Carol. “Oh, dear, I hope he knows what he’s about! Where’s +that place we saw the top slide from?” They hurried to a spot where the +bushes no longer hid the slide from their view, and saw the boy +cautiously descending the danger-path. + +“Oh, look! That man’s moving! He’s sitting up!” cried Jean, suddenly, +looking through the field-glass. She handed it to Carol. + +“Now he’s lying down again. He must have broken a leg,” said Carol. + +By this time Douglas had reached the end of the first slide. He pushed +through the bushes at its foot and came out on the central one. The +glass passed from hand to hand as they watched his progress. Without a +misstep he reached his goal, and they saw him drop down by the man’s +side. They waited for him to wave for help, but the signal did not come. + +“They’re going down!” cried Jean. Without rising, the man began to let +himself down slowly, Douglas walking at his side. Hurt or not, he was +able to make his way downward, and the sure-footed boy kept close to +him. They disappeared for a while among the low trees and boulders +separating the slides. But Douglas came into view again, and suddenly +the man was standing erect beside him. The next moment only _one_ was +standing there. A cry of horror broke from the girls. Douglas had fallen +and was plunging down over the cruel rocks, down the cliff to the forest +at its base. + +“Tony struck him! I saw him! He struck him!” Carol’s voice was tense and +strained, and she was white to the lips. Looking through the field-glass +she had seen what the others had not, and the glass had almost fallen +from her hands in the shock. The man who had struck the blow she no +longer doubted was Tony Harrel. + +“He’s killed him! Oh, Carol! He’s killed him!” cried Jean, clinging in +an agony to the older girl. + +“Oh, Carol, do you think he’s dead?” asked Cecily, trembling and +awestruck. + +“No, no!” answered Carol. “I _won’t_ think _that_! But he must be +fearfully hurt. There’s only one thing to do! I must go down to him!” + +“Oh, Carol, no!” began Cecily. + +“Yes I must. It’s the only thing to do. You and Jean must go home as +fast as you can, and send back guides to help us. Can you find your way +down the mountain alone?” + +“Yes, yes,” said Cecily. “But you mustn’t go down, Carol. You’ll kill +yourself! Oh, _don’t_!” + +“I’m going with you, Carol!” cried Jean. “Let Cecily go for the guides. +I won’t let you go alone. Tony might kill you!” + +“No, Jean, you must _not_ go with me! If Cecily goes alone she may lose +her way, or fall, and nobody’ll know what’s happened to any of us; but +if you go together you can help one another.” + +“No, I’m going down to Douglas, too! I _will_ go! I _will_! You _shan’t_ +stop me!” Jean declared passionately. + +Carol laid her hands on Jean’s shoulders, and looked into the wild, +frightened eyes. Her girlish face had grown stern in its resolution, and +Jean felt the power of that steadfast gaze. “You _must_ obey me!” she +said. “It’s the only way to save his life.” + +“But don’t go down those frightful slides, Carol!” pleaded Cecily. +“Can’t you keep in the woods all the way? Tony might try to hurt you!” + +“No, he won’t. There’s not the slightest danger. He wouldn’t _dare_ to +touch me! I’m not one bit afraid of him.” + +“Oh, look! look!” exclaimed Jean. “There he goes now!” + +The boulder from which Douglas had fallen was not far from the border of +the slide, and the man, instead of continuing the descent of the cliff, +had crawled rapidly among the rocks and bushes to the edge. Now they saw +him rise up and disappear into the woods. + +“There now!” said Carol. “You see he’s gone another way. I’m going down +the slides—if a boy can do it, _I_ can! I’ll only keep in the woods till +I get to the middle slide; then I shan’t meet him at all. Now, Jean, +give in. Every moment we waste here counts!” + +“I want to go _with_ you!” cried Jean piteously. “Cecily won’t be hurt; +she’ll catch up with the others. But you’re my sister—if you’re killed, +I want to be killed, too! Let me go with you!” + +“Jean, darling,” said Carol, “don’t you love me enough to do the only +thing that will help me? If you want to save _me_, as well as Douglas, +do what I say and get the guides.” + +“Oh, Jean, _do_ come!” Cecily begged. “We’ve got to obey orders.” + +“Yes—I will—I’ll go for the guides.” The words came hard, but Jean had +yielded. + +“Now then,” said Carol, “we haven’t a minute to lose. Give me your +handkerchiefs, girls—I must have something for bandages—and your +ribbons—your belts—your neckties—anything to bind!” While she spoke she +was examining the contents of the guide-basket. “Here’s Fräulein’s +cloak—that’s good—and the pail—I’ll need it for water. Douglas said +there was a brook down there.” + +“Take my sweater, too,” said Jean. + +“And mine,” said Cecily. + +“Yes, I’ll tie them around my waist. Put the other things in the +basket.” They packed the basket with lightning haste and fastened it to +her shoulders. “Now, girls,” she said, “don’t stop another second!” + +“Carol, go slowly,” begged Jean. “Don’t slip! Be careful! For _my_ +sake!” + +“I will. Good-by!” + +Jean and Cecily threw one look at Carol starting fearlessly on her way. +Then they darted over the mountain-top to the trail. Down it they ran +recklessly, making good speed at first. But the running and jumping over +roots and stones proved too much for one of Cecily’s overtaxed shoes. +The sole broke, and after that there was no more hurrying. Poor Cecily +could only shuffle painfully along, and they lost all hope of overtaking +the others. It seemed as if they spent hours and hours upon that trail, +and by the time they reached the base of the mountain night appeared to +have fallen already, so dark were the woods. But at last they were out +of the forest, and on the road, where it was only dusk. A long walk was +still before them, but they plodded on bravely until, the weary +pilgrimage over, they saw the lighted windows of Chipmunk Lodge. Mrs. +Brook, Fräulein and Eunice were on the doorstep anxiously awaiting them. + +“Children, are you here at last?” cried Mrs. Brook. + +“Where are Carol and Douglas?” asked Fräulein and Eunice together. + +“Don’t be frightened, Mother; we had to come back alone,” Cecily began, +as they stepped into the living-room. + +“Tony knocked Douglas down the slides, and Carol’s gone down after him!” +interrupted Jean. + +“Stop, Jean, you’re frightening Mother! Let _me_ tell,” said Cecily. +Betty, Frances and Stella had sprung from the fireside, and there was a +confusion of questioning. + +“Girls, you must keep quiet till Cecily can tell us what has happened,” +said Mrs. Brook. And calmed by her mother’s comforting presence, Cecily +told the story. + +Poor Stella knelt on the hearth, her cold hand locked in Jean’s. “_It +was Tony!_” she suddenly burst out. “I’m _sure_ it was! I saw a man +around here last night, but it was so dark I couldn’t tell who it was. +And, oh, I remember I told Douglas I hoped he wouldn’t get lost on those +Gothics! Tony must have heard me—and that’s how he knew Douglas was +going up! He always hated him!” + +“These children must have their supper right away,” said Mrs. Brook, +when the story was ended. “Bring it here, and let them have it by the +fire, girls. I must go after the guides.” + +“I’ll go with you,” said Frances. She lighted a lantern, and they set +out for the guides’ headquarters. + +“Fräulein,” said Eunice, “let’s go and tell Court. He’ll know what to +do. I’m sure he’ll want to start right off, himself, to find them.” She +brought another lantern, and, with Fräulein, hurried down the dark hill +to Court’s lodgings. + +Half an hour later Mrs. Brook and Frances came back, ready to despair. +All the guides were out, and of those expected home that night no +tidings had as yet been received. There was nothing to be done but wait +for Court; and Mrs. Brook ordered the worn-out girls to bed. + +“Let me stay up with you,” Stella pleaded. “I _couldn’t sleep_! And +there’s nothing else I can do to help.” + +Mrs. Brook looked into the white, imploring face. “Yes, Stella,” she +answered, “you may stay, but no one else.” + +“I’ll go upstairs, but I _can’t_ go to bed,” said Jean. “I _must_ be up +when they bring Carol and Douglas back. I don’t care if I _am_ tired +out! It was all my fault for losing my watch!” She went up to her room, +threw herself down on her cot, and tossed about in her misery. + +It was after midnight when she heard the door open and Court’s voice +saying, “Here we are!” She sprang from her bed in sudden hope and dashed +downstairs. It was only Fräulein and Eunice he had brought. + +“Aunt Alice, it’s been an outrageous delay!” he said. “But we’re only +just back from our tramp. We’re all ready to start now, though. I’m +going to take the guide we had to-day and go to the top and then down +the slides, and Clinton and some other fellows are going to follow up +along Rainbow Brook to meet us. Give me a wrap for Carol. We’ve got +everything else.” + +His aunt handed him her own heavy cloak, and some luncheon that she had +prepared. + +“Do you think you’ll save them?” asked Jean faintly. + +“Save them? Of course!” answered Court. “Douglas is a great strapping +fellow—he can stand anything! And Carol, why, I’d trust her to climb the +Matterhorn! Cheer up,” he called back, as he went out. “We’ll have them +home before you know it!” + +“We must all go to bed now, and get what rest we can,” said Mrs. Brook. +Very tenderly she kissed the three sad-faced girls, Eunice, Jean and +Stella. + +There was nothing to wait for now. Jean went forlornly upstairs again, +and buried her face in her pillow. Court’s words had cheered her only +for a moment. “It was all my carelessness!” she sobbed, in a passion of +tears, the bitterest she had ever shed. “I’ve killed Douglas—and I’ve +killed my Carol! Oh, Carol, you darling, you darling!” + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV. + LIFE OR DEATH + + +Carol started down over the steep of the Gothics, conscious that she was +going into grave danger, but her excitement was so great that she felt +no fear. She had a cool head and a steady eye, and could look down into +those terrible depths without giddiness. She descended cautiously +through the low bushes which grew just under the bare rock of the +mountain-top. Soon, however, the balsams rose higher than her head. It +was like venturing out beyond one’s depth when one has hardly learned +the swimming stroke. The trees closed over her and she was drowned in a +sea of evergreens. Down, down, she burrowed her way. Her face and hands +were scratched, but she had no thought to spare for her own discomfort. +In desperation she fought her way blindly, in constant danger from the +holes hidden in that treacherous ground. At last the stretch of balsams +gave place to a growth of trees larger and less dense. Taking fresh +heart, Carol pushed on, ever downward, step by step, occasional glimpses +of the slides showing her that she had kept a straighter course than she +had dared to hope. For some time a sharp ravine separated her from her +goal, but it grew shallower as she went on, until it suddenly ended, and +she found herself out of the woods and standing on the great central +slide. + +Above her and beneath spread the Gothics’ mighty breastplate of stone. +She gazed up at the frowning mountain, and then down the awful and +precipitous incline at her feet, down over the vast dark forest below to +the narrow black line of the lake. Then she began her descent of the +slide, keeping close to the edge. The wind came sweeping in fierce +gusts, threatening to carry her off her feet. She braced herself against +the gale by grasping at the branches of the frail little trees bordering +the slide. The fear of hidden holes such as had lain in wait for her in +the woods above, and the need of seeing where she was going, made her +keep to the rock. Firmly she planted her steps. To lose her footing +would, she felt, mean to lose life itself. Steadily, steadily down that +headlong slant she went, until she reached the broken boulders at its +foot. Below these again were sheer perpendicular falls of rock. It +seemed impossible to descend further. But she had come to save a life; +she must hold her own less precious, and go on. Resolutely Carol turned +her face to the cliff and let herself down, inch by inch. Again and +again she had to support her weight by clinging with her hands to sharp +and jagged ledges, while her feet sought resting places beneath, well +knowing that, failing to discover a foothold, she must fall to the +broken rocks below. The gale continued its assaults. Once a furious gust +drove her for refuge behind a boulder that seemed to hang poised and +ready to roll thundering down the mountain-side. + +How the desperate feat was accomplished she hardly knew herself, but at +last, those steeps and ledges safely passed, she crossed the gentler +slope of the last slide. The trees made a dark wall in front of her; and +somewhere near her, she knew, Douglas lay, bruised, and helpless—perhaps +dead. She felt a dread of coming upon that white face and seeing all the +cruel marks of the fall; but a moment more and she had stepped boldly +through the trees. She found herself in a twilight of deep shade. Just +below her was the dry bed of a brook, and there on the stones lay the +boy, his face upturned. Carol stepped quickly down the bank and dropped +on her knees beside him. + +His eyes were closed, and there was perfect stillness. A great cut ran +backward from his temple, and the blood had flowed freely, drenching his +thick, fair hair. She touched his face softly—the skin was cool in the +chill air, but there was no unnatural coldness. She lifted his hand—it +was icy, and no pulse-beat answered her pressure. Had the throbbing +stopped forever? She unslung her heavy guide-basket, and laid her ear +against his heart. There was a slow but regular beating. Life was there! + +She loosened his collar and belt to give him ease in breathing, and drew +his jacket over his chest for warmth; then turned to unpack the few +things that she had brought to help her in her fight against death. One +of the sweaters she rolled up and laid under the boy’s head to protect +it from the stones. + +Her brain worked as busily as her hands. Water! Of all things she must +have water first! Here was the bed of Rainbow Brook, but where was the +stream itself? She took the tin pail and went down along the stony +channel. She had not far to go. There was the water, a mere thread of a +rill, coming up from the stones under which it had been trickling. Carol +filled her pail with the aid of her tin cup. Then she went back to +Douglas, and kneeling beside him sprinkled the cold water on his face, +and raising his head tried to pour a little between his lips. She bathed +his face and bound a folded handkerchief over the wound. Then she rubbed +his hands and wrists vigorously. + +Now for the other restorative—heat. Douglas had lighted the picnic fire, +and she found his match-box in his pocket. But to protect him from the +cold before a fire could be built she spread out beside him the cloak +that she had brought, and putting all her strength into the work slowly +and carefully raised and turned him until he was lying upon it. While +moving him she heard a low moan. The cloak served both for bed and +covering. She laid a sweater over his chest for additional warmth, and +wrapped her own about his feet. Gathering sticks and dry leaves she +kindled her little fire, and built a half circle of stones around it to +keep in the heat. She took the cover of the pail and Douglas’s bent +drinking-cup and set them on the hot stones. Her own cup she filled and +placed among the embers. When the tins were heated she put them in the +folds of the sweater which she had wrapped about the boy’s feet. + +Douglas turned his head slightly. She began to rub his hands again, and +as she worked his eyelids opened, closed again and opened once more. +Carol took the smoking cup of water from the fire, cooled its brim from +her pail and brought it to her patient. + +“Jean,” murmured the boy, as she raised his head to give him the hot +drink. + +“This isn’t Jean,—this is Carol,” she said. “Here’s water, Douglas. Try +it, just a sip.” She put the cup to his lips and found that he could +swallow; but after two or three sips he seemed exhausted and closed his +eyes again. She put back the cup to keep hot. Then she looked about her. +How dark it was growing! Night was coming on, and a cold night too! What +time was it? She looked for the boy’s watch: it was gone! Skirting the +slides Tony must have come down and robbed the unconscious lad. + +Carol pushed her way through the woods again to collect all the fuel she +could find before the darkness should make further search impossible. By +the time she had an encouraging pile, there was blackness everywhere +except in that small circle around the fire. Douglas was now conscious, +but pitifully weak and bewildered. + +“What happened?” he asked. + +“You had a fall, dear,” she answered. + +“He had it!” he murmured. + +“He had what, Douglas?” + +“The watch.” + +“Jean’s watch?” + +“Yes.” + +“Douglas, do you know me?” she asked. + +“Miss Carol,” he said faintly. Then he moaned. + +“What hurts you, Douglas? Tell me where the pain is.” + +“My leg,—my head!” + +Carol found by pressure that a spot on the right leg gave him intense +pain. “It’s broken!” she thought. “What can I do for the poor boy?” She +chose out several thin branches from her little woodpile, stripped them +and lashed them together with ribbons and ties, making two very fair +splints. These she placed one on each side of the broken leg, fastening +them firmly but gently with the strap of the guide-basket and the belts. +What other injuries there might be she could not tell, but he was +evidently suffering greatly. It tortured her to think of the miserable +little she could do for him. To tend the fire, to give sips of water in +his conscious moments, to keep him from casting off the wraps in his +restlessness, to try with her soft voice and touch to sooth him,—this +was all. + +Carol realized that her own plight was wretched enough. For the first +time in her life she was learning what suffering with hunger meant. A +cup of hot water was her only supper—there was not a crumb left in the +basket. And she was cold, without her sweater. It was hard to believe +that this was August. Fortunately, the gale had subsided; but her heap +of fuel was dwindling alarmingly. She strained her ears for the sound of +voices, but in vain. And the longer she waited the more convinced she +became that harm had befallen Jean and Cecily. + +The night wore on. A score of times she groped her way up the bank to +the foot of the slides in the faint hope that she might see help coming. +How darkly the mountain loomed! How black the sky was! Long before dawn +she threw her last stick on the fire. + +“He’ll die if the night lasts much longer!” thought Carol. She dropped +down by the boy’s side, put her arms about him to keep the cold away, +and so waited for the first gray of morning. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV. + THE VIGIL ENDED + + +While night still hung black in the forest Carol rose up from her +sleepless vigil, faint with hunger and cramped and stiff with cold, and +went out into the open again to look for the morning. The wind was dying +down and the sky had changed from black to deep purple-gray,—the +twilight of earliest dawn. Back she went to her post. + +“It’s beginning to be morning, dear,” she said softly. “You won’t have +to lie here much longer now. They must come soon.” + +The boy did not seem to hear. She put her arms about him again, her head +drooping with weariness, and ringing with hunger-faintness; and waited +till daybreak should find its way among the trees and give her light to +search for more wood. Suddenly came a sound,—a call. She sprang up and +listened. It came again. Exhaustion was all forgotten. She scrambled up +the bank and dashed through the trees. Dawn was coming quickly, and in +the gray light two figures appeared far above her at the top of the last +slide. + +“Hello! hello!” rang out, and lanterns were flourished. + +“Here I am! Here! here!” she called, and waved her arms. + +“We’re coming!” one of them shouted back. He did not wait to call a +second time. Down he shot, clearing the whole length of the slide in +what seemed but a moment. + +Carol held out both hands to him as he reached her side. And after the +long agony of the night came her cry of relief. + +“Oh, Court! Court! I’m so glad! I thought you’d never come!” + +“Carol! Thank God you’re safe!” Down went the lantern. Court gathered up +her cold hands in his strong, tight grasp that hurt yet comforted, and +looked down into her face with anxious intensity, as if not even touch +and sight could convince him that he had found her at last. + +But Carol withdrew her hands from that kind clasp and turned away. She +could have fought on bravely had she been called to endure still the +loneliness and fear, the torture of seeing the pain that she could not +ease; but this coming of safety, comfort, protection, was breaking down +her fortitude. A great lump had risen in her throat; her lips were +trembling. The tears had started; she would not let them fall. But that +strange faintness was coming back. Suddenly she felt a strong arm around +her. Court was holding her, steadying her. + +“Carol! You poor little girl! It’s nearly killed you!” he cried. “What +is it? Tell me!” + +“Are Jean and Cecily safe?” she asked, her voice quivering. + +“Yes, they’re all safe. I didn’t get home till nearly midnight. I +started right off as soon as I heard,—but it’s taken all this time! +Carol, tell me, where’s Douglas? Is he badly hurt?” + +“Come down to him,—quick! I think he’s dying.” + +“Where is he?” Court’s voice was low and awed. + +“Down there. He’s fearfully hurt and he’s growing weaker. He’s almost +unconscious again. Oh, he’s suffered so! Come—quick! I can’t leave him.” + +“This way!” Court called to the guide, and taking up his lantern, he +followed Carol. + +She led him to the spot where Douglas lay. + +“I’ve been trying all night to keep him alive!” she whispered. “I +thought he’d die before anybody came!” + +Court knelt down beside the boy and took his hand. The closed eyes +opened. “Do you know me, old man?” he asked, his fingers on the flagging +pulse. + +“Yes,” came faintly. + +“That’s right!” Court gave Carol a reassuring smile. “How do you feel, +old fellow?” + +“I—had a—fall.” + +“Yes, I know you did. And you feel pretty mean now, don’t you? Well, +we’re going to take you right home and patch you up. Only we’ll give you +some breakfast first.” + +“Do you think he’ll live?” whispered Carol. + +“I’m _sure_ he will.” + +“He’ll pull through all right,” said the guide, who had joined them, and +was studying the boy with an experienced eye. + +“How are you going to get him home?” Carol asked anxiously. + +“Oh, easy enough,” said Court. “Tom Clinton and some other fellows are +on their way up the brook to meet us.” He turned to Douglas. “Now, old +man, we’re going to make you as comfortable as we can while we’re +waiting for the others. Say, Harry, spread those blankets down here and +we’ll put him on them.” While the guide was unfolding the blankets, +Court fell to plundering the basket which the man had slipped from his +shoulders. Mrs. Brook’s cloak came out first and he put it around Carol. + +“Oh, don’t!” she protested. “I don’t need it. Put it over Douglas, +_please_!” + +“Now, see here! I’m captain of this ship! I’ve brought my poncho for +Douglas. But I’m going to attend to _you_ first. He’s a good deal warmer +than you are!” Court fastened the cloak under her chin. “Have you gone +all night with nothing over that thin thing?” he asked. “Didn’t you have +a sweater?” + +“I put it around his feet.” + +“And never stopped to think of yourself! Carol, you’re _sure_ you’re not +hurt? Just worn out, isn’t that all?” he questioned anxiously, for the +whiteness of her face had startled him. + +“Yes, that’s all. It’s been such a dreadful night!” + +“Tony didn’t come back to trouble you, did he?” + +“Oh, no!” she answered; but her face told its story of suffering. + +“It’s been enough to kill you!” Court declared fiercely. “But it’s over +now. I’ve got you safe. I’m going to take care of you. Now I’m going to +start you on your breakfast.” + +She smiled up at him gratefully, but she asked, “Can’t you give Douglas +something right away?” + +“You’re both of you going to have some coffee as soon as we can heat it +up,” he answered. He brought the famished girl a package of sandwiches, +but she could not eat until she saw Douglas laid on his new bed. + +Court stooped over the lad. “Now, then,” he said to the guide; “You take +his feet while I lift him.” + +“Oh, be careful!” cried Carol. “His leg’s broken.” + +“We’ll look out for it,” said Court. “Hello! Why, if you haven’t got it +into splints! How did you learn to be such a surgeon? They’re first-rate +splints! Now it won’t hurt him a bit to move him.” + +But it did hurt badly, and the boy’s groan and look of suffering as he +was lifted gently, made Court’s face betray the anxiety he was trying +his best to hide. + +“Poor boy! You won’t have to wait much longer now,” said Carol. They +wrapped Douglas in the warm poncho. A new fire was soon built and the +coffee heating; and seeing her patient well cared for, Carol could enjoy +her own breakfast. “Oh, but it does taste good!” she said. + +“Poor girl! You must be starved!” said Court. “You haven’t had a +mouthful since your lunch yesterday, have you?” + +“No, not since yesterday noon.” + +“And it’s after four now!” he exclaimed. “Sixteen hours!” + +“I was growing pretty faint,” she admitted. + +“It was fearful for you! Carol, you’re the bravest girl that ever lived! +To think of your going down those awful slides alone! Risking your life, +and staying at your post all night! You beat all the _men_ I ever heard +of!” He was far gone in heroine worship, and he listened eagerly while +Carol told her story. + +“We’ll catch Tony yet,” said Court. “I’ll see they get a warrant out for +his arrest. Hurry up that coffee, Harry!” + +“She’s het up pretty good now, I guess,” said the guide. He lifted the +can from the fire. + +Court filled a cup and gave it to Carol. + +“Give it to Douglas first,” she said. + +“No, you take this. I’ve got to get out my tin spoon to feed him. Keep +her cup filled up, Harry!” + +Court knelt down beside Douglas, with his tin cup and spoon. Slowly and +carefully he fed him, and a few spoonfuls brought the boy back to fuller +consciousness. + +The waiting time was over soon. Carol’s quick ears suddenly caught the +sound of distant voices, and she sprang up. “Oh, listen!” she cried. +“They’re coming!” + +Court hallooed and was answered. He started down the brook and returned +with Tom Clinton and his relief corps. There was no time to lose. The +rescue party had brought bandages, and with these Court bound up the +boy’s shoulder, which, he noticed, had hung down when he was lifted. A +blanket served for a stretcher, and the guides carried Douglas between +them. + +“You’d better let us carry you, too,” said Court to Carol. “It’s an +awfully long tramp and awfully rough.” + +“Oh, thank you, but I wouldn’t be carried for the world! I feel ready +for anything now,” said Carol bravely. But long before the journey down +the wild, rocky brook was over, she was glad of the strong arms that +came to her help, and at every difficult place carried her safely +across. + +It was a weary road, but Rainbow Falls was reached at last, and soon +they were at the end of the trail. Awaiting them was a stage, which had +been turned into a temporary ambulance, and the doctor who had come with +it to meet them received the suffering boy into his care. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI. + A “STOOT HERT” AND A “STEY BRAE” + + +“I’m going up the road to look for them!” called Jack, through the open +window of Chipmunk Lodge. He had been kept out of the rescue party +sorely against his will. + +“I’m going too!” Jean called back. The early breakfast was over. Out she +rushed, and they hurried together up the forest road. + +Before they had gone far the stage came into view. Jean darted forward +with a cry of joy, for in front she saw Carol, waving her hand. The boy +and girl dashed up to the wagon. There on a mattress lay Douglas, +watched over by Dr. Allen, Tom Clinton and Court. The stage halted. In a +flash Jean had climbed up and was in Carol’s arms. Jack mounted the step +at the back and his face grew ashy as he looked at Douglas lying so +white and still. + +“Is he dead?” he asked in a low voice. + +“No more than you are!” answered Court. “Don’t talk. We’ve got to keep +him quiet.” + +The hush of awe that rested on the group of waiting girls, made the +welcome at the Lodge a strangely quiet one. “Is he living?” was the +question that the anxious faces asked. Carol sprang down as the wagon +stopped, and was caught by Eunice in a quick embrace. + +The largest bedroom had been prepared for the boy, for Mrs. Brook was +determined to nurse him, herself. Court and Tom carried the mattress +into the cottage. Jean was standing so near that they touched her in +passing. She was silent, but Douglas turned his head weakly toward her +and smiled. + +“Hello, Jean,” he murmured faintly. + +The smile with which she answered him made her sorrowful face radiant. +His hand lay on the edge of the mattress and she gave it one soft loving +squeeze. + +Dr. Allen worked over his patient with Mrs. Brook and Court for +assistants. Jack stationed himself outside the bedroom door, awaiting +the verdict. At last Court came out, whispered to his brother and went +back again. And Jack left his post to report gloomily, “He’s +compound-fractured his leg and broken his collar-bone, and his head’s +hurt awfully!” After that he did not leave the door till his brother +reappeared, saying, “Come in and have a look at Douglas.” + +Mrs. Brook left the sick room as Jack entered it, and joined the group +of anxious girls. “The doctor is all through, and Douglas is in much +less pain now,” said she. “But the house must be kept very quiet, and I +must not keep any larger family here than is necessary. So most of you +must go home to-day, just as we planned, with Fräulein.” + +“Mother, dearie, _I_ can’t leave you!” began Cecily. + +“You don’t mean to send _me_ home!” cried Carol. “Because I’m not going. +I shall stay right here and help you nurse Douglas.” + +“Don’t make _me_ go!” begged Jean. + +“Wait, girls,—wait till you hear me out,” said Mrs. Brook. “I can’t +spare _you_, Cecily. I shall engage a woman from the village to do the +cooking, but you will have to stay and keep house. And I don’t mean to +send _you_ home, either, Carol. You’re not fit to travel to-day. I shall +put you right to bed, you poor tired-out child, and when you’re rested +you shall help me in the nursing. But all the rest must go.” + +“I _can’t_ leave Carol!” Eunice protested. + +“Stella needs you more,” said Mrs. Brook. “I shall put her in your +special care for the journey home.” + +“Don’t send _me_ away,—don’t!” Jean implored. “I won’t be one bit of +trouble! I know I can help you! _Please_ let me stay!” + +“Yes, do let her stay!” urged Carol. “She can help us beautifully. I’ll +be fearfully lonely if I have to lose my chum and my Little Sister, too! +Let me keep her.” + +“Jean will have to stay, Auntie,” put in Court, who had come into the +room in time to hear part of the discussion. “If they catch Tony, she +and Carol and Cecily will all be summoned as witnesses. Can’t we send +Jack home in her place? I’m going to stay here myself, and help you till +Douglas is out of the woods. But Jack had better go back with the girls. +They’ll need him.” + +With the law itself demanding Jean’s presence, Mrs. Brook was forced to +yield. + +“I’ll take care of Nanno for you, Jean,” said Betty. + +“We’ll do it together,” said Frances. “I’ve never done anything worth a +cent yet, but I’m going to _now_!” + +By noon the carriages were at the door, and the travellers drove away, +the girls throwing back kisses, and all smiling so bravely that no one +would have guessed what a weight lay on those young hearts. + +Douglas was in a high fever by the next morning and delirium had come +on. During the anxious days that followed, Carol, as assistant nurse, +was constantly at his bedside, while Court was always at hand ready for +any service. The two battle maids kept their silver swords unsheathed, +and with many a brave thrust made rifts in the cloud of trouble,—Jean +always eager to fly on errands, and Cecily proving herself a born +housewife, as she helped and directed Tillie Blungie, the +maid-of-all-work. + +On that first morning a ray of sunlight broke the gloom. Court, who had +been mysteriously absent for two hours or more, returned, in his hand a +tiny gold watch fastened to a white enameled pin. Jean seized the watch +and kissed it, and her cry of joy brought Cecily from the kitchen. + +“Well, Tony’s caught, and on his way to jail,” said the young man +triumphantly, and to his excited audience of two he told of the arrest. + +“A guide brought word to the constable this morning that he’d just +passed a fellow answering Tony’s description on the Chapel Pond road. So +the constable sent for me to come along and identify him and we went and +caught up with him near the pond. It was our man sure enough! He was +limping along, quite lame,—he must have stayed hiding in the woods all +yesterday. He turned around just before we reached him, and you ought to +have seen him when he recognized me! I saw him drop something into the +bushes, and I looked and found it was the two watches. He declared _he_ +hadn’t dropped them,—said he’d never seen them! He’s trying to bluff it +out still.” + +“Where’s Douglas’s watch?” asked Jean. + +“The constable has it. He’s going to take Tony before the justice of the +peace. If he’s held to the Grand Jury they’ll keep the watch for an +exhibit till everything’s over.” + +“They’ll put him in prison, won’t they?” asked Cecily. + +“If he’s brought to trial, and there’s hardly a doubt he will be, +there’s enough evidence to send him to State’s Prison for assault. By +the way, there was a party of men on the Gothics just when he was +starting for the slides. They talked with him, and their guide +identified him just now.” + +“Those must have been the men we saw on the mountain,” said Jean. + +“Yes; they’ll have plenty of witnesses. We’ll all have to pay a visit to +the Justice before long.” And, a day or two later, the visit was paid. + +Douglas made a brave fight for life, and one morning Court came from his +night vigil by the bedside, to say, “He’s better! The fever’s going down +and he’s sleeping like a baby.” The boy awoke with the fever gone, but +Dr. Allen said that it would be a long time before he was well and +months before he regained his full strength. + +One afternoon Jean electrified Carol with the announcement, “I’ve got a +situation!” + +“What under the sun—!” began Carol. + +“Why, you know,” Jean continued eagerly, “It’ll be ever so long before +Douglas can earn his living again. Well, I was trying to think how I +could earn some money for him, and as I was up at the Inn, mailing the +letters, I saw Mrs. Elton’s children squabbling. So I told them a story +and got them good again, and then we played _Witch_. We had a beautiful +time! And Mrs. Elton came out and said she wished I was their sister! +She said their nurse didn’t know how to amuse them, and she couldn’t +feel happy going off on excursions and leaving them behind. And then I +told her I wanted to earn some money for Douglas, and I asked her if +she’d be willing to hire _me_ to amuse Dicky and Marguerite.” + +“Give me the lavender salts before I faint away!” gasped Carol. + +“And she was perfectly delighted,” Jean went on, “and she told some +other ladies, and they said they wished I’d amuse their children too. So +I’m going there every morning to play with them from nine to half-past +twelve. I’ve got four girls and two boys, and I’m going to have fifty +cents a day for each one, and we’re going to play games and act Mother +Goose rhymes, and—” + +Jean got no further for Carol pulled the breadwinner into her lap and +hugged her tight. “You precious little Jeanie Queen! You’re just a +bundle of _Caritas_! You little mother with four girls and two boys! I +never knew anything so dear as you in all my life!” + +The happy work proved a godsend both to Jean and to the little people, +who adored their new playmate. The flock increased from six to eight and +Jean came to be known as the little “old woman who lived in the shoe”; +and great was her pride when she brought home her first week’s +salary,—twenty dollars! + +A day or two after Jean was launched in her profession, Dr. Allen said +to her, “You and Douglas must be great chums. He’s been talking about +you, and now he’s asking to see you. I think I’ll have to let you pay +him a call every day.” He led her into the room where Douglas lay, too +weak to raise his head from the pillow. The boy’s thin face still bore +traces of the injuries it had received, but the bright smile that she +knew so well broke over it as she came in. + +“Don’t I look pretty, Jean?” he asked. “I got nicely bunged up, didn’t +I?” His voice was faint but it had the old merry ring. + +She knelt down by the bed. “I wanted to come in dreadfully before,” said +she. “Only they wouldn’t let me. But the doctor says I may come in and +see you every day now.” + +Douglas’s eyes sparkled. “Bully for doc!” he murmured feebly, and he lay +smiling contentedly, not strong enough for many words, until the doctor +announced, “Time’s up.” + +“Here I am again,” said Jean, coming into the room a few days later. +“You look ever so much better now, Douglas.” + +“Oh, I’m in great shape to-day,” he answered brightly. + +“I’ll leave you in charge, Jean,” said Carol. “I must get the beef-tea.” + +“I tell you she’s a dandy nurse!” said Douglas, as Carol left the room. +“It doesn’t seem as if she belonged down here, does it? She’s so +stunning and beautiful and sky-high above us all! A—a—a sort of an +angel!” + +“Oh, lovely!” laughed Jean. “I’m going to tell her she’s a +sky-high-above-us sort of an angel!” + +“Don’t you do it!” said Douglas, reddening. “She told me what a regular +brick you were too. She said you wanted to go down the slides after me, +yourself!” + +“It was all my fault!” said Jean. + +“It wasn’t either! You tried to keep me back! But it’s funny the way you +forget when you’re ill. All I can remember is that when I got near Tony +he was looking at something in his hand, and when he saw me he popped it +into his pocket, and I was sure it was the watch. And then we climbed +down together, and when he found he could get along he began to get +ugly. He said you and I had told people he had set the woods afire, and +he was going to pay me back right then. I was mad, too, by that time, +and told him he’d stolen your watch. He must have struck me just then, +for that’s the last I remember.” + +“Oh, I don’t see how he could have been so cruel, when you went down to +help him!” said Jean. + +“I’d like to have a look at my watch again,” said Douglas presently. “It +was my grandfather’s. Did I ever show you the Scotch motto inside +it,—’Pit a stoot hert tae a stey brae’?” + +“Why, how queer!” exclaimed Jean. “We have _my_ grandfather’s watch and +it has the same motto!” + +“That’s funny! You know what it means, don’t you?” said Douglas. “Put a +stout heart to a stiff hill. Good motto for a fellow that’s got to fight +his own way, isn’t it?” + +“Yes, and it just suits you now—you’re so brave and patient all the +time.” + + * * * * * + +That afternoon Mrs. Brook had a dismal letter from Fräulein Bunsen, now +housekeeper at Huairarwee. Marie, the cook, had threatened to leave if +“M’dame” did not speedily resume the reins of government. + +“What shall I do?” said Mrs. Brook. “I’m needed there and I’m needed +here.” + +Then Carol settled the difficulty like the wise lass that she was. “Of +course you can go home, Motherling!” said she. “If Jean and I aren’t +able to take care of Douglas, now he’s so much better, we might as well +go back to our baby carriages. Haven’t we Tillie to help us?” + +“But, my child—” began Mrs. Brook. + +“Motherling, beloved, I am _not_ a child. I’m an experienced grown-up!” +said Carol. And when the question was submitted to Dr. Allen he took her +part. + +“I’ll tell you how we’ll fix it,” said he. “I’ll send for Grandma Holly. +She’s a dear old lady, and the nurse for the whole district. I’ll keep +Miss Carol for head nurse, but Grandma and Tillie can do the hardest +work. Mrs. Brook, you needn’t worry about your girls a bit with Grandma +to take care of them.” + +So Mrs. Brook waited only till the first of September, on which day +Court drove Carol, Cecily and Jean to the county town to testify at the +hearing before the Grand Jury. The girls stood the ordeal bravely, +giving their testimony with a clearness that won them praise. The next +day Mrs. Brook and Cecily, with Court, whose services were no longer +needed, set out for Halcyon, and Mrs. Holly was installed at Chipmunk +Lodge. She was a brisk little old lady, so rosy cheeked and cheery that +Carol said her name just suited her: she was like Christmas holly; and +the new arrangement worked like magic. + +One afternoon, as Jean was spinning Douglas a thrilling yarn, a vigorous +rapping at the front knocker sent her flying to the door. A tall, +fine-looking gentleman, suit-case in hand, stood on the threshold. +Amazement and ecstasy were in the cry that rang through the little +cottage, as Jean threw herself into the traveller’s arms. + +“Daddy! Daddy!” + +“My own lassie!” His strong, loving arms held her fast. + +“Daddy, is it really you? You darling! you precious darling!” + +“Yes, Dawtie, here I am a whole month ahead of time! I thought I’d give +you a surprise. Oh, my wee lassie, it’s good to have you again! Daddy +couldn’t live without you any longer!” + +In the love scene that followed out on the porch, a wonderful piece of +news was told. Jean’s father and mother had come home to live. All +summer Mr. Lennox had contemplated changing places with his partner in +New York, but nothing had been said to Jean, for fear of a possible +disappointment. Her parents had arrived in New York two days ago, and +while her invalid mother was resting after the voyage her father had run +up to Halcyon, found his bird flown, and followed her to Chipmunk Lodge. +When the first raptures were over Mr. Lennox listened to the story of +those past weeks. + +“And Daddy, isn’t it the queerest thing,” said Jean, “Douglas has his +grandfather’s watch, and it’s just like grandpapa’s, and it has the same +motto inside!” + +“Hm! that’s odd,” said Mr. Lennox. “The lad’s Scotch, you wrote me, +didn’t you?” + +“Yes, come and see him now.” Jean ushered her father indoors. + +Then she ran to surprise Carol and Douglas with her news, but her cry of +“Daddy!” had betrayed the secret. “Come in, Daddy!” she called. + +Carol welcomed Mr. Lennox at the bedroom door, and after a hearty +greeting he stepped to the bedside. + +“Well, Douglas, my boy,” said he, “you and I ought not to be strangers. +I feel as if I had known you a long time from all Jean’s written about +you.” The kind words made Douglas feel at home with him at once. + +When the boy’s fall and illness had been talked over, Mr. Lennox asked +him to describe his watch. “It must be the counterpart of my father’s,” +he said when the description had been given. “What was your +grandfather’s name?” + +“He was Major Alexander Gordon.” + +“That name is about as familiar to me as the proverb in the watch,” said +Mr. Lennox. “Tell me what you know of your grandfather.” + +“He came from Glen Yarrow in Scotland,” replied Douglas. “He belonged to +the Grahame Highlanders, and he was ordered to Canada just after he was +married. He was stationed in Halifax for years. My father was born +there.” + +“Your father was a physician, I understand.” + +“Yes. He came down to New York after Grandfather died, but he broke down +and had to come and live in the mountains.” + +“And he died last Christmas—it was Douglas’s birthday,” whispered Jean. + +“And your mother is dead, too?” + +“Yes, she died when I was three years old.” + +“Why, my boy, it’s been a pretty sad life for you,” said Jean’s father, +with feeling. The look in the gray eyes gave the answer. + +“Have you any relatives living?” asked Mr. Lennox. + +“I have some cousins of my mother’s up in Nova Scotia, and I think I +have a great-uncle or something in Scotland.” + +“I’m not sure but I know more about your family than you do!” said Mr. +Lennox with a smile. “I’m going to tell you a story now. My father, +David Lennox, lived in Glen Yarrow. My grandfather was the minister of +the kirk there, and a great friend of the laird. The laird was named +_Douglas Gordon_.” + +Jean and Carol both started, and Douglas half raised himself. + +“That was my great-grandfather!” he exclaimed. + +“It looks like it,” said Mr. Lennox. “Well, the laird’s youngest son, +Alec—” + +“Douglas’s grandfather!” cried Jean. + +“Whist! lassie. The laird’s son, Alec, and Davie Lennox were just the +same age, and as fast friends as their fathers; and when the lads went +to the university the laird gave them gold watches, exactly alike. They +had their favorite motto engraved in them: ‘_Pit a stoot hert tae a stey +brae_;’ and they determined to live up to it. Alec became a soldier and +went to Canada, and David went into the ministry and always lived in +Scotland. I’m sorry their lives drifted so far apart that their sons, +your father and I, couldn’t be friends too. That’s all. Now, laddie and +lassie, what do you think of it?” + +“We’re almost cousins!” cried Jean. “Our grandfathers were just as good +as brothers!” + +“Think of our grandfathers being such chums, and then our finding each +other and getting to be such friends, too!” said Douglas. + +“I think it’s perfectly beautiful!” said Carol. “That must be why you +took to each other from the very start!” + +A merry chat followed. Then Mr. Lennox rose. “Now, Douglas, I must say +good-by. I’ll see you again in the morning before I go back to New York. +Come, lassie, let your daddy have a chance to get acquainted with you.” + +Out on the porch they had a long talk. “You’ve grown in more ways that +one, Jean,” said her father. “Do you remember, I used to call you my +_daft lassie_, your head was so full of dreams? The daft lassie is gone, +and I find instead a young battle maid so busy fighting for other people +that she has no time to think of herself. But I canna ca’ ye my _wee +dawtie_ ony mair!” + +“What will you call me, Daddy?” + +“I’ll call you my Lass of the Silver Sword!” + + * * * * * + +When Jean’s father returned from New York and paid a second visit to +Chipmunk Lodge, he found Douglas almost himself again, though the boy +was obliged to lean on his crutch as he rose to greet him. + +“I should like to have a talk with you, my lad,” said Mr. Lennox. +“Dawtie, we’ll have to send you out of the room for a bit. Don’t listen +at the keyhole! Well, Douglas,” he continued, “this is first rate! +You’ll be climbing Mount Marcy in another week!” + +Douglas laughed. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be able to go to work as soon as I +can get along without crutches,” said he. “I feel fine and I can’t lie +around doing nothing.” + +“How would you like to make me a visit?” asked Mr. Lennox. + +“Oh, thank you, sir! I’d like to ever so much! But wouldn’t I be in the +way? I shouldn’t like to be a bother.” + +“No, you wouldn’t be in the way in the least. In fact, we’d all like to +have you extend your visit indefinitely.” + +“I don’t quite understand. You don’t mean till I’m able to go to school, +do you?” said Douglas. + +“I mean, come and make your home with us. Your education is of the +utmost importance. Your father would have wished you to be where you +could best prepare yourself for your life’s work. And as far as we +ourselves are concerned—why, I’ve seen and heard enough of you to know +that it will be a pleasure to all of us. We need you. Don’t you think +Mrs. Lennox and I would be richer for having a son as well as a +daughter?” + +The astounded boy could hardly believe that his ears did not deceive +him. He began to stammer out his gratitude. + +“No, no, I don’t want to be thanked,” said Mr. Lennox. “All I want is to +have you take me at my word and come! I’m going to send my lassie to you +now. You can talk it over with her.” He left the room and in rushed +Jean, to find a flushed, excited boy. + +“Jean, your father wants me to come and live in your family!” + +“I know it!” she interrupted. “I knew it all along. Daddy and I planned +it all out together when he was here before! You’re going to have Daddy +for your father, and Mother for your mother, and I’ll have you for my +brother—and Father’s going to send you to school and college! Oh, +Douglas, I’m so happy about it, I don’t know what to do! I just hated to +think about saying good-by and having you go way off somewhere!” + +“So did I,” said Douglas. His voice sounded oddly gruff, and Jean saw +his eyes begin to shine. He turned his head quickly toward the window. +This prospect of a happy home to the lonely boy, and the delight that +Jean showed, were almost too much for him. The tears rushed to his eyes, +and for a minute he studied the sunlit valley as well as he could +through the mist, while he held Jean’s hand in a tight, grateful clasp. + +“I never saw anything like you!” he said, when he could trust his voice. +“The way you’re always doing things for somebody else! Look at all +you’ve done for me already! And your father taking me like this—it’s too +much! I can never pay it back as long as I live!” + +“But he doesn’t want you to! He wants to have a _son_. Don’t you see?” +said Jean. + +“Well, I’ll be the best kind of a son I can, anyway,” said Douglas. +“I’ll do my level best to please him, so he’ll never be sorry for what +he’s done. I’ll study like a good fellow, once I get to school! Look +here, Jean—do you think I’ll make a decent sort of a brother?” + +“Fine! Do you think I’ll make a nice sister?” + +“The best little sister a fellow ever had! There isn’t another anywhere +could hold a candle to _you_!” + +As father and daughter strolled in the woods before tea, Mr. Lennox +said: “Dawtie, Douglas won’t need that ninety-two dollars you’ve been +earning for him, now. What would you like to do with it?” + +“I’d like to give it to Stella, and the canoe money, too,” answered +Jean. “And, Daddy, don’t ever tell him about my earning it. He might +feel badly to think I’d worked for him.” + +“We won’t tell him just yet, anyway, lassie,” said her father. + +October was only a few days away, and this was the last afternoon at +Chipmunk Lodge. But Carol, Jean and Douglas knew that before many weeks +they would have to visit that region again; for Tony Harrel’s case was +soon to come on for trial, and all three would be obliged to appear as +witnesses. + +“I’d give anything if I could get out of it,” said Douglas. “I’ve got to +testify if the law makes me, but I hate to. I don’t want to get him into +any more trouble.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII. + A CORONATION + + +Two days later Jean and her father, Carol and Douglas, arrived at +Halcyon Lake. They stopped at Hurricane first to restore Douglas to his +chum; and then the other travellers went on to Huairarwee and received +an enthusiastic welcome. A bevy of eager girls clustered around the +carriage as it stopped. Carol sprang down, to be caught and fairly +smothered by her classmates. Jean made a joyful swoop over the wheel and +into the arms of Cecily and Frances, who held her so tight that Betty +and Stella had to embrace the whole trio. The instant that her battle +maids released her, Nanno was upon her, winding her chubby little arms +and legs around her long lost guardian, while Jean hugged the rosy +dumpling of a mavourneen. Such a babel of merry voices, as Carol and +Jean were escorted in triumph to their tents! Such a rattling of +tongues, as the news of Chipmunk Lodge was poured out! + +“You dear old Joan of Arc! I thought I’d never get you back!” said +Cecily, drawing Jean down on a cot and squeezing her anew. + +“I thought I’d never get back to _you_, you dear old St. Cecilia!” +returned Jean. “Oh dear! I want to hug everybody all over again!” + +“Cece, you’re the grabbiest thing that ever lived!” cried Betty. “Go +’way! Give the rest of us a chance!” + +“It’s _my_ turn,” said Stella. “I’ve something to tell you, Jean. I have +a mother, now!” + +“And I have a sister!” said Cecily. + +Jean stared from one to the other. “Stella! You don’t mean—!” + +“Yes, I do!” said Stella, with a joyous little laugh. “I’m going to live +with Mrs. Brook—with _Mother_!” + +“Stella! How perfectly _glo-o-orious_!” Jean sprang up and nearly +throttled the happy girl. “Are you going to live with her _always_? +Won’t you really have to go back to the farm any more?” + +“No, I won’t ever have to go back. Pa don’t want me,” answered Stella. + +“And we _do_ want her,” said Cecily. “She’ll be my sister, and keep +Mammykins company while I’m at school. Isn’t it the loveliest thing!” + +“Oh, Stella! I’m so glad!” cried Jean. “I couldn’t bear to think of your +going back! My, isn’t everything turning out like a regular fairy-story! +You’re Cecily’s sister, and Douglas is my brother! Isn’t it just too +beautiful!” She whirled Stella around the tent in a mad tarantella as an +outlet for her delight. “I must tell Carol this minute!” she exclaimed, +as they stopped for breath. + +“Whoa! Don’t gallop away!” said Frances. “Carol’s known about it for +ever so long.” + +“But we kept it a secret, to surprise you when you came back,” Stella +explained. “Oh, Jean, you don’t know what it means to me! You girls all +have mothers, and lovely homes—you don’t know how it feels to have +nothing at all! And now I’m going to have a mother again, and a sister, +and the loveliest home that ever was—and _everything_!” + +Here the dinner horn sounded. Stella hurried to her tent to smooth her +tumbled hair, and Cecily to the bungalow, to give a finishing touch to +the goldenrod and autumn leaves decorating the table. + +“Now we’ll tell you the rest of the secret,” said Betty to Jean. “After +Mrs. Brook decided to take Stella, Carol and Eunice got up a plan that +all of us girls should club together and pay for her dresses and things +till she’s able to earn her own living. So we’re all going to join and +raise a fund. But Stella doesn’t know that yet.” + +“Those big girls are getting good at last!” remarked Frances. “It’s +because they’ve had _me_ for an example, all summer.” + +“Let’s make them all honorary members of the order!” cried Jean. “Jolly! +jolly! Now I know what’ll be our Silver Sword work next winter! Let’s +raise money for the fund! Let’s earn enough to give Stella music +lessons! Carol says she has a splendid ear.” + +“Hooray!” cried Frances. “We’ll give a play a month! Won’t we have a +winter of larks!” + +“Won’t _I_ have a busy time as treasurer!” laughed Betty. + +A second peremptory toot of the horn sent the three girls scurrying to +the bungalow. “We’re to have dinner in the kitchen,” said Betty. “Jean, +you must promise solemnly, on your golden shield, not even to _peep_ +into the living-room.” + +Jean’s curiosity burned at a white heat as she took her place at the +table in the cozy kitchen. The campers were to say good-by to Halcyon +next morning, and a farewell dinner party was now given, with Mr. Lennox +as the guest of honor. + +“Joan of Arc,” said Cecily, as the ducks came sizzling from the oven, +“you’re not to have Blanche for your room-mate next winter, after all! +Miss Carlton wants her to room with Adela. She thinks there’ll be less +skylarking.” + +“And I’m to room with Betsy in the Orioles’ Nest!” said Frances. “Miss +Carlton thinks I’ll be a good influence for her!” + +“Miss Carlton wants me to keep _Frisk_ in order!” Betty corrected. + +“Then, Cece, you’ve _got_ to room with me!” Jean broke in. + +“That’s just what I’m going to do,” said Cecily. “We’re to have Castle +Afterglow.” + +“Oh, St. Cecilia! How perfect!” cried Jean. “Won’t we have fun! You must +come home with me over Sundays. I’m to go home every other Sunday. Dear +old bouncing Blanche! She’ll be a good, solid weight to tie Adela to! +She’ll steady the White Mouse if anything will!” And all four girls went +off into ripples of happy laughter. + +“Now, Motherling, tell us,—have we been good daughters all summer?” +asked Eunice, at dessert. + +“The best daughters in the world,” answered Mrs. Brook. “I shall be +lonely for you all next winter.” + +“Then will you take us back again next summer, if we can come?” + +“With all my heart I will! Next summer and _every_ summer this camp will +be ready for you.” + +“Three cheers!” cried Nancy. “I’m coming, with the camp baby under my +arm!” + +Carol rapped on the table. “Camp Huairarwee, stop eating apple pie, and +take a vote,” said she. “I move that we all try our best to come back +next summer. Somebody please second the motion.” + +“I second it!” responded every one of her eighteen fellow-boarders. + +“The motion is _eighteenth_-ed,” Carol announced. “All in favor of a +jolly summer next year, signify it by saying ‘Ay’!” + +“Ay!” burst forth unanimously, and Cecily clapped her hands in delight. + +“Daddy!” Jean called to her father, at the other end of the table, +“Can’t _we_ come to Halcyon next summer? There’s the dearest little mite +of a camp standing empty right next door to Huairarwee. We could rent +that!” + +“But it won’t hold all of you, Jean,” said Cecily. “Your father and +mother and Douglas can stay there, but _you_’ll have to live with us.” + +“When our daughters settle things for us, there’s nothing left to be +said,” Mr. Lennox observed to Mrs. Brook. + +“Fräulein and Miss Hamersley must come and chaperone us again,” said +Eunice. + +“You’re a handful, but I’m ready,” replied Miss Hamersley. + +“Not I! Not if you are to be lost in forests and on mountains again,” +laughed Fräulein, shaking her head at Jean and Carol. “I see my hair +grow gray already!” + +“Nobody else sees it,” said Carol. “That one little _contrary-minded_ +shall be kidnapped by me and _brought_! You’re just the right size to be +tucked into a suit-case, Bunny, liebchen!” + +“Carolchen, ven vill you learn to be respectful!” said the little +teacher. “Ach, wohl! I suppose I haff to come, to take care of my two +storm-children.” + +Dinner over, Jean was invited to show her father through the labyrinth, +and to remain in it till summoned. In half an hour Mrs. Brook called the +exiles back, sent Mr. Lennox to the bungalow, and took Jean to the +battle maids’ tent. There, spread out on her cot, Jean found a white +satin robe, and on Cecily’s a cloak of ruby-colored velvet. + +“Why—what’s that?” she cried. “That looks like the dress Eunice wore +when she acted Juliet! And _that_—that’s the cloak Carol had for Romeo!” +The finery carried her back to the evening at Hazelhurst when the older +girls had acted _Romeo and Juliet_, but how had it been spirited into +camp! + +Mrs. Brook would tell no secrets, but she took Jean in hand, and—presto, +change! Instead of a lassie in a corduroy mountain suit, there stood a +royal personage, robed in shimmering white satin, her velvet cloak +falling from her shoulders, her court train sweeping the floor. Cheeks +rosy with excitement, blue eyes laughing and dancing, dusky hair flowing +loose over her mantle—the Queen of the Silver Sword came forth from her +tent to find awaiting her a merry dark-eyed maid of honor, in an antique +gown as yellow as a daffodil. Frances took the ends of the regal train, +and Jean was conducted to the bungalow. As they stepped upon the veranda +the door was opened for them by two porters whose extraordinary attire +made Jean stop short in amazement. One was an Indian, through whose +war-paint she recognized Jack’s features. He was wrapped in a gorgeous +red blanket, and his superb hen-feather war-bonnet proclaimed him a +chief of renown. The other was a frontiersman of Colonial times. He +leaned, not on crutches, but on his rifle, and he wore fringed leggings +and jacket, and a coonskin cap, which he doffed as the queen entered her +palace. + +A palace it was indeed! The walls were tapestried with evergreens and +autumnal foliage, and adorned with golden shields crossed by silver +swords. Two rows of court ladies were waiting to receive her majesty, +and they made a dazzling array, for more than one trunkful of +costumes—the relics of Hazelhurst tableaux and theatricals—had lately +arrived in camp. Jean saw medieval dames, oriental princesses, and +European peasants. Nancy and Marion, in their pale green and +peach-colored satins, with tall pointed head-dresses, might have +presided at tournaments as “queens of love and beauty.” Helen and +Dorothy were charming as Pocahontas and Minnehaha; Eunice seemed to have +stepped out of the pages of Shakespeare, for she was a fair and stately +Portia, in red silk cap and gown; and pretty Rose Hamilton was the fairy +queen Titania, surrounded by attendant elves, all with spangled robes +and gauzy wings. + +Jean’s bewildered eyes roamed over the sea of color, and down the hall +of state, to the dais that had been raised at the farther end. There she +saw a floral throne covered with goldenrod and purple asters. To the +left of the throne stood the princesses of the Scroll and the +Treasure—Cecily in rose pink, Betty in forget-me-not blue. Carol waited +on the right, and she had become a dryad of the forest. Her robe of +creamy yellow was trimmed with ruddy Virginia creeper and clusters of +rowan berries; she held a sickle and a sheaf of corn, and on her head +was a garland of bright maple leaves. + +Suddenly, from the bower of evergreens around the piano, sounded the +march from Lohengrin. Cecily and Betty came down between the ranks of +courtiers and bowed before their sovereign. + +“Oh, girls, it’s just like fairy-land!” Jean whispered. “But what does +it all mean?” + +“It’s just a welcome home for you and Carol,” replied Betty. “We planned +it all as soon as we got back from Chipmunk Lodge.” And Cecily said, +“May it please your Majesty to advance and take your throne!” + +With her maid of honor bearing her train, and the princesses following, +the queen walked slowly up to the dais. Carol stepped forward to meet +the procession. Bowing low, she took Jean by the hand and led her to the +throne. + +“Carolie, you look perfectly _beautiful_!” whispered Jean. + +“It is your Majesty who is beautiful!” Carol responded. “You are every +inch a queen!” Then she addressed the courtiers: + +“When my young sister, Springtime, held sway over the land,” said she, +“the Queen of the Silver Sword was raised to the throne. Since then she +has valiantly fought to better the world, and her good sword Caritas has +been drawn whenever she has found a wrong to right. But, though Spring +and Summer have said farewell, her Majesty is still a queen uncrowned. +Now I, Autumn, have come. I have turned the forests to gold, and made +them ready for the coronation day. And you, fair ladies of the court, +are here to pledge your fealty to the Silver Sword, to pay homage to the +queen, and to present her with her crown and scepter.” + +Autumn drew back, and up came Stella, all in white, her cloud-like veil +dotted with tiny stars. She bore on a cushion a circlet of frosted +silver; and as she knelt before the throne Cecily and Betty took the +crown, held it a moment aloft for all to see, then laid it on the head +of the young queen. There it gleamed, on the soft dark hair, and where +it rose to a point above the broad forehead were a shining “C” and “V.” +Then Cecily placed in her hand a gilded scepter. + +“Long live the Queen!” Clear and full the chorus rang out. + +Jean’s glowing face was all the reward her subjects asked, but she rose +and spoke: + +“Ladies of the court, and you, my battle maids—” Then impulsively she +threw wide her arms as if she would embrace them all. “Oh, girls!” she +cried, “I _can’t_ make a speech! But I thank you millions and billions +and _trillions_ of times! I never dreamed we’d have a real silver crown +for our order! Oh, it’s all too beautiful and lovely! I ought to be the +best queen that ever lived, with such a crown and such subjects. But I +don’t deserve it one bit—I haven’t done anything at all! I know who +ought to be crowned—_Carol_ ought! She saved Douglas’s life, and she’s +nursed him all these weeks, and just done everything for everybody!” +Autumn was shaking her head and her sickle in vehement denial, but Jean +went on: “She ought to belong to the order, anyhow. She’d make a +splendid adviser—she always knows how to set things straight. Mayn’t I +have her for my chief councillor, or grand vizier or something?” + +“You may and you _should_ have her,” said Mr. Lennox, who stood near the +dais. “‘In days of old, when _battle maids_ were bold,’ the Germanic +tribes had their _Alruna_ women who foretold the future, and, I’ve no +doubt, gave the chiefs excellent advice. Your Majesty’s humble and +obedient father suggests that you appoint Miss Carol your Alruna Maid!” + +“That’s a splendid idea!” exclaimed Jean. “Kneel down, Carolie!” Autumn +knelt before the throne. Jean lifted the leafy garland, and replacing it +on the flowing chestnut hair, proclaimed Carol the Alruna of the Silver +Sword. + +The Alruna kissed the royal hand; and then such a clapping as burst +forth, within the palace and outside, too! + +“Long live the Alruna Maid!” shouted a manly voice. There was Court +looking in at an open window. At another were Dr. and Mrs. Hamilton. + +“Spies! spies!” cried the courtiers, but they welcomed the spies +indoors, in time to see the camp baby do homage to the queen. Nanno, in +a scarlet Mother Hubbard cloak, came running up to the dais, which she +mounted with a hop. Then, measuring herself with one hand on top of her +black curls, she recited in her tuneful brogue: + + “A little mavourneen am I, + I’m only dest so high! + But when I’m as old as you, + I’ll be a battle maid too!” + +“You darling baby, indeed you _shall_ be a battle maid, too!” said Jean, +gathering Mavourneen up to a place beside her on the throne. + +The assembled ladies then approached and kissed the royal hand; after +which up came Court, with the frontiersman and the redskin warrior. +Court was in his hunting suit, and equipped with rifle and +cartridge-belt. “Your Majesty,” said he, “allow me to present the famous +scout, Natty Bumpo, whom they used to call Deerslayer, and now call +Hawkeye; and also the young chief, Uncas, the last of the Mohicans. I +hope you’ll excuse Hawkeye and me for coming just as we are. We’ve been +out all day after venison for your Majesty’s banquet. Uncas is the only +one who has had time to put on his dress suit.” + +“Heap much beautiful squaw here! Big chief like queen’s scalp best!” +observed Uncas, gazing with admiration at the silver circlet. + +“You shan’t have my crown, nor my scalp either!” laughed Jean. “_You’ll_ +protect me, won’t you, Hawkeye?” + +“Killdeer never misses,” answered the scout, raising his rifle. “I’m +ashamed of Uncas,—he talks like a dog of a Mingo. But then he hasn’t a +white man’s gifts. It isn’t in _my_ gifts to know how to speak to a +queen, but—Great Cæsar! you look stunning!” + +“Your Majesty’s so dazzlingly radiant, it hurts my eyes!” Court +declared, and he took his place beside the chief councillor. “Alruna +Maid,” he said, “I hope you won’t keep your good advice all for the +queen. When I come to New York in my Christmas vacation won’t you give +_me_ some good counsel, too?” + +“Take care, Court! You’ll have a sermon from your clerical father if he +finds you going to an _Alruna_ for counsel,” replied Carol. “And once +you told Jean it was _your_ rule to do what you wished, first, and ask +advice afterwards.” + +“Oh, that all depends on who gives the advice,” said Court. “I never had +an Alruna to go to before. Do you ever tell people’s fortunes? I shall +want to come and have my fortune told, some day.” + +“Oracles never mind people coming to _inquire_,” the Alruna answered +graciously. Then her sunny eyes grew deep and full of mystery. “The veil +of the future is lifting,” said she—“just one little corner of it. I +see—a legacy! It comes from a great-aunt. And the grandnephew is so fond +of using the silver sword that he won’t spend one cent of it upon +himself. There—that’s as far as the veil will lift to-day.” + +[Illustration: GAZING WITH ADMIRATION AT THE SILVER CIRCLET.] + +Gay dance music sounded just then from the green bower where Fräulein +served as orchestra. + +“I hope it’s my good fortune to have the Alruna for my partner,” said +Court. + +“I fear it is your _fate_!” she laughed. “Fräulein’s playing my favorite +waltz.” A moment more and the hunter and the Alruna were gliding about +in the dance, and fantastic couples were revolving merrily all through +the palace. + +“I can’t dance,” said Hawkeye, regretfully. “I got wounded trying to +_sarcumvent_ the Mingoes.” + +“Uncas dance with paleface queen,” said the last of the Mohicans. He led +her majesty out, while the queen’s father renewed his youth by taking +for a partner the princess of the Scroll. + +The bungalow had seen many a merry dance that summer, but this was the +merriest of all. After every waltz or two-step there was a change of +partners, the hunter and the young brave doing their best to dance with +every member of the court. The revel ended with the Virginia reel, out +under the trees. Douglas watched it from a rustic bench, and when it was +over Jean dropped down beside him to rest. + +“I’m rather afraid of my sister, now she’s a queen with a crown on!” +said the boy. “I feel as if I ought to be down at your feet, instead of +sitting beside you.” + +“Do I look so very royal?” asked Jean. “Oh, see there!” She pointed to +the lake. “There goes a kingfisher!” + +“Two of them!” said Douglas, for first one blue-gray bird and then +another had arisen chattering from a tree overhanging the water. He +raised his rifle. “Shall I shoot?” he asked mischievously. “It brought +me good luck last time!” + +“No, don’t shoot!” said Jean, laughing. “All the good things came +because we _saved_ the halcyon’s life!” + +“And _two_ halcyons,” said Douglas, “ought to bring us twice the good +luck!” + + * * * * * + +The afternoon was wonderfully mild for so late in September. In the +slanting rays of the sun the water flashed beguilingly, and Jean was not +allowed to rest long on the rustic bench. + +“It’s time for our sunset carnival, now!” said Cecily. + +“You don’t mean there’s _more_ coming!” exclaimed Jean. + +“Oh, yes, there is!” Cecily answered. “This is a three-act play. You and +Carol haven’t been out on the lake since the end of July, so we +thought—as we’d be all dressed for it—we’d wind up with a water +carnival. Come down and see your royal barge.” + +Down to the lake tripped the queen and her court. Moored to the dock the +royal craft was waiting. A canopy, and plenty of ornamental cheesecloth, +had transformed the old camp fishing-boat into a barge which Cleopatra +herself need not have scorned. It was draped all in white and crimson; a +heap of bright cushions made a throne; a fantastic flag, gay as a +Venetian gonfalon, hung over the stern, almost trailing in the water; +while to a pole, erected like a mast, wound with crimson and white and +flaunting streamers of the same, was secured a large golden shield, with +the sword and motto of the order. + +“What a beauty of a boat! How _did_ you dress it up?” cried Jean. + +“I waved my wand, and it rose out of the lake!” replied the fairy queen +Titania. + +Jean was made to take her place on the cushion-throne, with Stella at +her feet, Frances at the helm, and Cecily and Betty at the oars. A +general embarkation followed. Court and Jack launched the rowboats and +canoes, and helped the ladies to step aboard without detriment to their +finery; and at the last moment Court, with the Alruna, now returning to +her role as Autumn, slipped off to the kitchen and came back carrying +between them a huge basket of rosy, mellow apples, which they placed as +cargo in the _Hist-oh-Hist_. The fleet was soon on its way up the lake +to Fairy Cove. The queen’s barge headed the line. Close in its wake came +Uncas and Hawkeye, the scout reclining in the canoe while the Mohican +plied the paddle, Nanno sitting cuddled up contentedly between them. +Then came the _Hist_, paddled by the hunter, Autumn in the bow playing +her mandolin, for which she had exchanged her sickle, pausing now and +then to toss her gifts of apples to others of the masqueraders as they +came within range, for the rest of the gay procession gradually closed +up and surrounded the royal galley: Titania and her fays, Pocahontas and +Minnehaha, Portia and the Queens of Love and Beauty, peasant girls, +chivalric dames, and princesses of the Orient. + +The clouds were warm with rose and gold as the gay party dropped into +Fairy Cove. There the queen and her battle maids let their barge drift, +while the others circled around them in a grand review. Carol touched +her mandolin and began to sing the boating song, _Santa Lucia_. The rest +took up the melody, and the sunset carnival became a sunset concert, +too. While the sky blushed up to the zenith, the sweet young voices rose +in song. And when the carnival fleet glided homeward again the oars and +paddles rose and fell to the melody of _Auld Lang Syne_. + +Sky and lake seemed to have caught fire together as the keels grated on +the sand and the queen and her maidens stepped ashore. But over the dark +hills the clouds gloomed violet, and the sun was sinking fast, bringing +to an end that summer with its many halcyon days. The whole rainbow +company gathered on the beach to see the last of the sunset glory. A +flood of light poured over the happy queen. It shone on the princess of +the Scroll, as she stood at the queen’s right hand, and turned her fair +hair to St. Cecilia’s halo. It played with the Alruna’s flowing curls +and made them burn with ruddy gold. + +“It’s been such a beautiful summer!” said Jean. “Even the sad part had +such a wonderful ending! And to-day—to-day’s the loveliest of all!” + +The Alruna stretched out her hand toward the western sky, where a band +of clearest blue broke the rose and gold. “See that lake in the sky!” +she said. “That’s Halcyon Lake, next year! The future is unfolding +before me in the sunset! We are all coming back again—every one, and +_next_ summer we shall have with us _all_ the battle maids of the Silver +Sword!” + +Down dropped the great globe of flame behind the purple clouds; its rays +were quenched, and the young sovereign and her court stood in shadow. +But again, through a rift, the golden light flashed forth, and the last +bright horizontal beams touched Jean’s silver coronet and made it +glisten. The Alruna spoke again: + +“This is your _second_ coronation, little queen! The _sun_ is crowning +you now!” + + + FINIS + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes + + +The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical +and punctuation errors were silently amended. All other changes are +shown here (before/after): + + [p. 322]: + ... turned her face to the cliff and let herself down. ... + ... turned her face to the cliff and let herself down, ... + + [p. 335]: + ... you’re going down those awful slides alone! ... + ... your going down those awful slides alone! ... + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77584 *** diff --git a/77584-h/77584-h.htm b/77584-h/77584-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e18a8bd --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-h/77584-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18526 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="UTF-8"> +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> +<title>The Lass of the Silver Sword | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <!-- TITLE="The Lass of the Silver Sword" --> + <!-- AUTHOR="Mary Constance Du Bois" --> + <!-- ILLUSTRATOR="Charles M. Relyea" --> + <!-- LANGUAGE="en" --> + <!-- PUBLISHER="The Century, New York" --> + <!-- DATE="1909" --> + <!-- COVER="images/cover.jpg" --> + +<style> + +body { margin-left:15%; margin-right:15%; } +div.frontmatter { } +div.frontmatter h1.title { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin-top:0.5em; + padding-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; } +div.frontmatter .aut { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin-bottom:1em; } +div.frontmatter .aut .line1 { font-size:0.8em; } +div.frontmatter .aut .line3 { font-size:0.8em; } +div.frontmatter .ill { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin-bottom:1em; } +div.frontmatter .ill .line1 { font-size:0.8em; } +div.frontmatter .logo { margin-bottom:1em; } +div.frontmatter .pub { text-indent:0; text-align:center; } +div.frontmatter .cop { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-size:0.8em; + font-style:italic; padding-top:4em; margin-bottom:1em; } +div.frontmatter .printer { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-size:0.8em; + margin-top:4em; } +div.frontmatter .ded { padding-top:4em; 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} + .x-ebookmaker .trnote { margin:0; } + +</style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77584 ***</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<p class="ded"> +<span class="line1">This ebook was created in honour of Distributed Proofreaders’ 25th Anniversary.</span> +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<div class="centerpic" id="img-frontispiece"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt=""> +<p class="cap"> +THE INITIATION CEREMONY OF “THE SILVER SWORD.” +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<h1 class="title"> +THE LASS<br> +OF THE SILVER SWORD +</h1> + +<p class="aut"> +<span class="line1">BY</span><br> +<span class="line2">MARY CONSTANCE DU BOIS</span><br> +<span class="line3">Author of “Elinor Arden, Royalist,” etc.</span> +</p> + +<p class="ill"> +<span class="line1">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</span><br> +<span class="line2">CHARLES M. RELYEA</span> +</p> + +<div class="centerpic logo" id="img-logo"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<p class="pub"> +NEW YORK<br> +THE CENTURY CO. +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<p class="cop"> +Copyright, 1908, 1909, by<br> +<span class="sc">The Century Co.</span> +</p> + +<p class="cop"> +<em>Published September, 1909</em> +</p> + +<p class="printer"> +Printed in U. S. A. +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<p class="ded"> +<span class="line1">TO</span><br> +<span class="line2">GRACE WINIFRED</span><br> +<span class="line3">AND</span><br> +<span class="line4">CECILY JEAN</span> +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="toc" id="chapter-0-1"> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="table"> +<table class="toc"> +<tbody> + <tr class="s"> + <td class="col1">CHAPTER</td> + <td class="col2"> </td> + <td class="col_page">PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">I.</td> + <td class="col2">A Girl with Ideals</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-3">3</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">II.</td> + <td class="col2">At Home in the Orioles’ Nest</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-14">14</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">III.</td> + <td class="col2">A Tornado</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-31">31</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">IV.</td> + <td class="col2">Castle Afterglow</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-42">42</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">V.</td> + <td class="col2">The Queen of the Silver Sword</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-59">59</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">VI.</td> + <td class="col2">Camp Huairarwee</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-72">72</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">VII.</td> + <td class="col2">How the Queen Saved a Halcyon’s Life</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-83">83</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">VIII.</td> + <td class="col2">Douglas Gordon</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-91">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">IX.</td> + <td class="col2">Jasper Brook</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-107">107</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">X.</td> + <td class="col2">The Trail to the North Pole</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-116">116</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XI.</td> + <td class="col2">Mermaids</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-132">132</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XII.</td> + <td class="col2">A Damsel in Distress</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-143">143</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XIII.</td> + <td class="col2">Philanthropists</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-156">156</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XIV.</td> + <td class="col2">The Camp Baby</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-173">173</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XV.</td> + <td class="col2">A Midsummer Day’s Dream</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-188">188</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XVI.</td> + <td class="col2">The Battle Maid</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-201">201</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XVII.</td> + <td class="col2">Forest and Fire</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-214">214</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XVIII.</td> + <td class="col2">Cinderella</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-226">226</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XIX.</td> + <td class="col2">The Hemlock and the Hist-oh-Hist</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-245">245</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XX.</td> + <td class="col2">Conspirators</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-268">268</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XXI.</td> + <td class="col2">The Runaway</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-281">281</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XXII.</td> + <td class="col2">Up the Gothics</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-292">292</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XXIII.</td> + <td class="col2">Down the Slides</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-306">306</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XXIV.</td> + <td class="col2">Life or Death</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-321">321</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XXV.</td> + <td class="col2">The Vigil Ended</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-329">329</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XXVI.</td> + <td class="col2">A “Stoot Hert” and a “Stey Brae”</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-337">337</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">XXVII.</td> + <td class="col2">A Coronation</td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-357">357</a></td> + </tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="toc" id="chapter-0-2"> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="table"> +<table class="toc ill"> +<tbody> + <tr> + <td class="col1"><a href="#img-frontispiece">The Initiation Ceremony of “The Silver Sword”</a></td> + <td class="col_page"><em><a href="#img-frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></em></td> + </tr> + <tr class="s"> + <td class="col1"> </td> + <td class="col_page">FACING PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1"><a href="#img-i_084">Camp Huairarwee</a></td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-84">84</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1"><a href="#img-i_262">As If In Answer the “Hist” Shot Forward</a></td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-262">262</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1"><a href="#img-i_370">Gazing With Admiration at the Silver Circlet</a></td> + <td class="col_page"><a href="#page-370">370</a></td> + </tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<a id="page-1" class="pagenum" title="1"></a> +<p class="tit"> +THE LASS OF THE<br> +SILVER SWORD +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<a id="page-3" class="pagenum" title="3"></a> +<p class="tit"> +THE LASS OF THE<br> +SILVER SWORD +</p> + +<h2 class="chapter1" id="chapter-0-3"> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER I.</span><br> +A GIRL WITH IDEALS +</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Rah! rah! rah!</p> + <p class="verse">Basket-ball!</p> + <p class="verse">Carol Armstrong!</p> + <p class="verse">Hazelhurst Hall!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">J</span><span class="postfirstchar">ean</span> Lennox improvised this yell on the +spur of the moment, and leaning over the +gallery rail shouted it forth at the top of her +voice, bringing the eyes of players and spectators +upon her fourteen-year-old self. The +basket-ball match was over; the senior team +had beaten the junior by a score of twenty to +thirteen, and the winners had for one of their +forwards Carol Armstrong, the champion +player of the school. The goals that Carol had +made that day! Why, just before the referee’s +whistle had announced the end of the game, +standing so far to the side that her friends had +looked for failure, she had shot the ball high, +<a id="page-4" class="pagenum" title="4"></a> +high into the air, and down it had come safely +through the basket, raising the score of the +seniors to twenty, and bringing Carol another +rousing cheer. And now Jean, too, had distinguished +herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Good for you, Jeanie!” cried Cecily Brook, +who sat on Jean’s left. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Rah! rah! rah!</p> + <p class="verse">Basket-ball!</p> + <p class="verse">Carol Armstrong!</p> + <p class="verse">Hazelhurst Hall!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +All the girls in the gallery except the disappointed +juniors took up the yell with enthusiasm, +for Carol was not only the champion of +the school, but also a prime favorite. The sequel +to the basket-ball match should have been +an instantaneous dash from the gymnasium, +but this chorus, which they had never heard +before, kept the teams a minute longer on the +field of battle. +</p> + +<p> +“Did little Lennox start that?” called up +Helen Westover, the senior captain. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she did!” answered Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s fine, Jean!” cried the captain. +</p> + +<p> +Carol Armstrong looked up at the blushing +author of the rhyme. Carol was a fine, handsome +girl, just eighteen; tall and vigorous and +graceful, with an air about her of being all +sparkle and life. Her cheeks were brilliant +<a id="page-5" class="pagenum" title="5"></a> +from the hard exercise; her sunny, brown eyes +were dancing. She smiled at Jean and blew +her a kiss with the tips of her fingers, accompanied +by a bow and flourish worthy of the +melodrama. Jean blushed hotter, but oh, the +thrill of happiness! To be saluted by the +leader of Hazelhurst, with whom she had not exchanged +ten words in all the months that she +had been at school! +</p> + +<p> +Next to Cecily Brook was Carol’s chum, +Eunice Stanley. She rose and, leaning over +Cecily, patted Jean on the shoulder. “You +quiet little puss,” said she, “you came out +gloriously! Come down and let’s congratulate +the conquerors. Oh, quick! they’re going!” +</p> + +<p> +Eunice ran down the gallery stairs with Jean +after her, shot across the gymnasium floor, +and caught Carol Armstrong in the act of +flight. +</p> + +<p> +“Carol, I’m proud of you! You were perfectly +splendid!” she exclaimed, giving her +friend an enthusiastic little hug. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>I’m</em> proud of Nancy,” said Carol. “Nan!” +she called to the other forward who was hurrying +from the room, “we’ll have to challenge +the St. Audrey girls again! We’ll beat them +all to pieces with <em>you</em> on the team!” +</p> + +<p> +“With <em>you</em>, you mean!” Nancy Newcomb +called back from the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-6" class="pagenum" title="6"></a> +All unnoticed, Jean stood behind Carol and +lovingly squeezed the heavy plait in which the +champion had braided her curly chestnut hair +for the fray. Before she could have the satisfaction +of winding around her finger the +tempting ringlet in which the plait ended, its +owner broke away. +</p> + +<p> +The twelve players in their pretty jumpers +and bloomers of navy-blue rushed off to the +dressing-rooms. The girls left behind in the +gymnasium rah-rah-rah’d for their Alma +Mater; and then—for that first Saturday in +March was one of drizzle and sleet—they devoted +the interval before luncheon to indoor exercise. +Jean brandished Indian clubs until her +muscles ached. Then she perched herself on +the headless, tailless “gymnasium horse” to +rest, and absent-mindedly cuddled a club in her +arms. +</p> + +<p> +Jean was tall for her age, and pale, and in +her own judgment she was homely, for she did +not know what charm lay in her strong, yet +delicate face, with its constantly changing play +of expression. Her eyes were large, deep-set, +and of a dark, clear blue; but the times came +often when their pupils dilated and they flashed +warningly. Her forceful mouth gave quick, +responsive smiles; and when, as now, her hair-ribbons +had slipped from their moorings, the +heavy locks, almost black, which fell about her +<a id="page-7" class="pagenum" title="7"></a> +broad forehead, lent an attractively witch-like +air to the bright, earnest face. +</p> + +<p> +At school, Jean was regarded in the light of +an interesting curiosity; she had among other +things the distinction of having lived for two +years in Brazil. Her father’s business had +called him to Rio Janeiro for a few years, but +her parents had decided that when their only +child came to fourteen she must be sent back +to the United States to be educated. Poor Jean! +Shy and homesick, she had come to Miss +Carlton’s boarding-school, Hazelhurst Hall. +She had stayed in her shell while the other newcomers +were choosing their best friends; and +so most of the intimacies had been formed while +she was still left out in the cold. But if she +had no bosom friend, at least she had the luxury +of an ideal to adore, and that ideal was +Carol Armstrong. Jean had fallen in love with +her at first sight, when, just arrived at the +Hall, she had seen Carol laughing and talking +with her friends, her head against the window +through which the sunlight poured, her chestnut +curls gleaming with red and gold. Alas! +the course of true love never did run smooth! +Jean had not dared to confess her admiration +to any one but Cecily Brook, whom she had +pledged to keep her secret. Now and then she +made offerings of candy and flowers anonymously, +leaving them on Carol’s desk, and so +<a id="page-8" class="pagenum" title="8"></a> +far all Carol’s attempts to play detective had +failed, and it looked as if her admirer would +remain forever unknown. +</p> + +<p> +While Jean was still mounted on the horse, +Carol came back to the gymnasium, this time in +her school dress, and was captured by a devoted +mob, who drew her to the piano and made +her play for them to dance. Couples were soon +waltzing to spirited music, but awkward Jean +found dancing more work than play, and she +sat still, no one claiming her for a partner. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go and poke up crazy Jane! It’s too +silly for her to sit there when she ought to be +dancing!” said Frances Browne to her room-mate, +Adela Mears, when the girls had stopped +to rest. Frances was a piquante little brunette, +small for her age, slight and nimble. Her +bright, black eyes, sparkling with mischief, and +her elfin quickness had won her the nicknames +of “Brown Mouse” and “Frisky Mouse”; and +Adela, with her flaxen hair and small, pointed +features, had been dubbed “White Mouse,” and +the room which they shared together “The +Mouse Hole.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, Jane, do wake up! It isn’t time to +go to bed yet,” said Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you come and dance?” asked +Adela. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care to,” replied Jean, frigidly. +<a id="page-9" class="pagenum" title="9"></a> +Between herself and Adela there was no love +lost. +</p> + +<p> +The day before, as they sat side by side in +the Latin class, Jean had found that the translation +she was writing was being stealthily copied +by the White Mouse, and her indignant start +and look of scorn were still rankling in Adela’s +memory. “I know what you’re doing,” she +said teasingly. “You’re making up your +novel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what do you mean?” Jean demanded, +looking startled. +</p> + +<p> +“Blanche, isn’t Jean writing a novel?” +Adela turned to Blanche Humphreys, Jean’s +room-mate, who stood near. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t wonder. She’s all the time +scribbling in a blank-book, and she won’t tell +me what it’s about,” drawled Blanche. She +was blonde, and overplump, slow speaking, and +slow moving. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I know it’s a novel, and that’s why +she’s so moony all the time,” said Adela. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you find out about it?” asked +Blanche. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you wish you knew?” laughed Adela. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you were in our room without being +invited,” suggested Blanche. “Was that it?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Guess’ is not a proper substitute for +‘think,’” said Adela. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-10" class="pagenum" title="10"></a> +“You <em>were</em> in the room, or you couldn’t have +seen her book!” remarked Blanche. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s big enough to be seen a mile away,” +said Adela. “When is it to be published, +Jean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Adela Mears, what business did you have to +sneak into my room and look at my private +book?” Jean demanded, the color rising in her +pale cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t touched your private book,” replied +Adela. +</p> + +<p> +“You were peeping through the keyhole, anyway!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I wasn’t!” +</p> + +<p> +“You were hiding in the closet, then,” put +in Blanche. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I had to,—to get away from Miss +Sargent,” stammered Adela, who had gone +farther than she had meant in teasing. “She +said I was to stay in my room yesterday, just +for nothing at all; but I wasn’t going to, so I +scooted upstairs to see <em>you</em>. But you weren’t +there; and I heard Miss Sargent in the hall and +skipped into the closet. And then Miss Sargent +came in with Jean,—she was lecturing her +about something or other,—and as soon as she +went out again Jean began raging around the +room, and said she hated everybody, and went +on as if she was crazy, and I was so scared I +<a id="page-11" class="pagenum" title="11"></a> +didn’t dare come out. And then she threw +herself down on the bed and cried and howled!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Adela, do keep still!” cried Frances. +</p> + +<p> +Jean was staring at Adela, her blue eyes +growing black. She despised crying, but now +and then homesickness combined with some +trouble of the day would bring the tears, and +alone in her room she would break down, and +with the sobs would come wild raging against +the fate which kept her at school. Such a +storm had swept over her yesterday, brought on +by a sharp reproof for carelessness from Miss +Sargent, teacher of mathematics and strict disciplinarian +of the younger girls. +</p> + +<p> +“And then she got up and began to write her +novel,” Adela went on, and broke off with a +scream, while Frances shot clear across the +room. Suddenly transformed into a fury, +Jean sprang from the horse and flung her Indian +club to the floor with a crash. Adela could +not retreat fast enough, and Jean caught her +by the shoulders and gripped her like a +vise, saying in a voice quivering with anger: +“You’re a hateful, dishonorable girl, Adela +Mears! It’s contemptible to spy on people!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, please don’t assassinate Adela!” It +was Carol Armstrong who spoke. She had left +the piano, and now she drew Jean merrily but +forcibly away from Adela and held her with a +<a id="page-12" class="pagenum" title="12"></a> +firm arm. “What <em>are</em> you quarreling about, +children?” she asked. “Jean Lennox, what <em>is</em> +the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +But Jean, utterly humiliated, jerked herself +free without replying, and ran from the gymnasium. +She fled across the campus to the +main building of the school, and up to her own +room in West Wing. There she sat brooding +until Cecily Brook and Betty Randolph entered. +Betty was a round-faced, rosy-cheeked maiden, +cheery and good-natured. Cecily was fair, and +dainty, and sweet. The girls called her “Saint +Cecilia,” and her fluff of sunny hair, “Saint +Cecilia’s halo.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean,” said Cecily, taking her hand pettingly, +“will you do Betty and me a favor? +We need you dreadfully. We’re trying to get +up some kind of an entertainment for my birthday +next Saturday. We’ve thought of charades +and lots of things, but they’re all so +stale, and we think <em>you</em> ought to be able to think +up something new, because you write such +splendid compositions. You have more ideas +than all the rest of us put together. Won’t you +help us, please?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re only saying that to make me feel +better,” answered Jean, gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +“No, we’re not!” said Betty. “We really +do need you, and you mustn’t feel so badly. +Adela and Frances didn’t mean any harm, and +<a id="page-13" class="pagenum" title="13"></a> +Adela’s <em>really</em> ashamed of herself now. +Carol’s been giving her a regular blowing up.” +</p> + +<p> +Betty coaxed and purred, and Cecily soothed +and comforted; and it was so good and so new +to feel herself claimed and needed that Jean’s +troubled look gave place to a bright, grateful +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d love to help you, if I can,” said she. +“I love to plan things. But I’ll have to have +a good long <em>think</em>, and then I’ll tell you if I’ve +thought of anything.” +</p> + +<p> +They left Jean to take counsel with herself, +and she walked round and round her room till +the bell rang, dreamed at table, and—luncheon +over—slipped away, no one knew where. +Early in the afternoon she presented herself at +the door of the “Orioles’ Nest,” as Cecily and +Betty had named their room, because Betty had +a brother at Princeton. “The Tigers’ Den,” +first thought of, seemed less appropriate to +young ladies than the “nest” of the orange-and-black +oriole. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve thought of something, but I don’t +know whether you’ll like it,” she announced. +“It isn’t just an entertainment, but it’s something +that maybe will last all our lives.” And +thereupon a meeting was held in the Orioles’ +Nest. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-4"> +<a id="page-14" class="pagenum" title="14"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER II.</span><br> +AT HOME IN THE ORIOLES’ NEST +</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">Miss Elizabeth Edith Randolph,</p> + <p class="verse">Miss Cecily Vernon Brook,</p> + <p class="verse3">At home from four to six.</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">I</span><span class="postfirstchar">nvitations</span> in this form were distributed +on the next Saturday among the classmates +of the hostesses. The cards were enticingly +illustrated with water-color sketches by Cecily,—two +Baltimore orioles on the edge of a nest, +each perched on one foot and holding a tea-cup +in the other. The guests one and all accepted, +and at the appointed hour the whole class +gathered in that coziest of rooms. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a gorgeous cake! And I’m +starving!” cried Frances. She wisely seated +herself next to the pretty little table on which +stood a frosted birthday cake with fifteen +lighted candles, all rose-pink, and also pink +paper baskets filled with bonbons, a tall pitcher +of lemonade, and a set of dainty glasses. +Cecily, as queen of the day, cut her cake into +twelve generous slices, while her sister oriole +poured the lemonade. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-15" class="pagenum" title="15"></a> +“Now don’t take too long to eat, girls,” said +Betty, hospitably. “We have a scheme to tell +you about when you’re through.” But no +coaxing could induce the hostesses to divulge +their secret while there was a crumb of cake +or a sip of lemonade to be enjoyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for your scheme,” said Phyllis Morton, +when the feast was over. +</p> + +<p> +“You tell it, Jean,” said Cecily. “You +thought of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, we want to found an order,” said +Jean, impressively. +</p> + +<p> +“An order! What on earth do you mean?” +asked Mildred Carrington. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean an order like the Knights Templars,” +said Jean. “Don’t you know we read +about them in French history? Now don’t +laugh, this isn’t just for fun. We’re in real +sober earnest. Why shouldn’t we found an +order,—a society that will bind us together, +maybe for all our lives, and anyhow will help +us all through our school life? Don’t you remember +that time in the literature class, when +we were studying about the legends of King +Arthur, and Miss Carlton gave us that talk +about the battle of life, and girls fighting like +true knights in it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember,” said Thekla Hoffman. “You +started it up, saying you wished you’d lived in +the days of chivalry. You thought all the battles +<a id="page-16" class="pagenum" title="16"></a> +and sieges would have been so nice and +exciting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know, and I felt like a goose after I’d +said it,” Jean admitted. “But Miss Carlton +said we didn’t need to go back to the days of +chivalry for our battles. She said life was a +great long warfare, and we had battles to fight +every day! And don’t you remember she said +the girl that always stood up for what was +right, and was always high-minded and honorable, +was a true knight, and she wanted all the +Hazelhurst girls to be true knights? Well, we +thought we’d better do what she said, and be +knights, and found an order like the Round +Table. Of course, we can’t go on ‘quests’ as +they did, but there are plenty of things we can +do in helping to straighten out troubles for one +another, and Miss Carlton says we <em>can</em> right +wrongs and better the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“My senses, Jean! Have we got to dress up +in armor and cavort on horseback?” laughed +Maud Perry. +</p> + +<p> +“If you please, how are we school-girls going +to better the world?” asked Phyllis. “Be missionaries, +and one take America, and one Europe, +and one Asia, and one Africa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t mean this in a preachy way!” +said Jean. “But if life’s one big war, with +battles every day, we’ve got to keep fighting, +haven’t we? Just look at Carol Armstrong +<a id="page-17" class="pagenum" title="17"></a> +and her basket-ball team; don’t they have to +fight <em>hard</em> if they want to win? Well, we can +fight hard to stand well in our lessons, and to +help each other, for love of Hazelhurst, just as +the basket-ball teams fight. We can be <em>girl</em> +knights.” +</p> + +<p> +“Girl knights! I never heard anything so +babyish!” Adela observed to Frances. “Let’s +buy tin swords and rocking-horses!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean colored hotly. “I don’t want to <em>play</em> +King Arthur any more than you do, Adela! +I’m not five years old!” she declared. “I +haven’t had a chance to explain. We really +<em>can</em> be girl knights. There’s a legend about a +girl knight somewhere; my father told me about +her when I was a little bit of a thing. He said +she was a beautiful princess and she became a +knight and she had a magic spear that would +overthrow all her enemies, and a wonderful +shield. I used to make up stories about her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Just tell them that story you told +me,” Cecily interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Cecily, no!” Jean protested. “They +don’t want to hear my silly old stories!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they do. Don’t be so shy,” said +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we do!” said Maud. “I know +<em>I’ll</em> never feel too old for fairy tales if I live +to be eighty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” began Jean, twisting her +<a id="page-18" class="pagenum" title="18"></a> +handkerchief nervously, and looking down, “I +made up a story, once, about how the princess +came to be a knight. One day she slipped into +the council-hall where her father, the king, was +in council with his knights, and she heard them +take a solemn vow to ride forth on a quest, and +right all the wrongs of the kingdom. And the +princess said to herself, ‘I’m going to be a +knight, too!’ But she didn’t have any armor, +and when she went to the king and told him she +wished to be a knight, he laughed at her and +said she was only a girl, and girls weren’t +strong enough to fight, and there wasn’t any +armor in the whole world that would fit a little +slip like her; and he told her to go and +learn the new court dance with her maids of +honor, and embroider some golden tapestry for +the council-hall, and let the knights do the fighting. +But the princess was too unhappy to +dance, and she was sick and tired of stupid old +tapestry. So instead she ran off and tried all +the suits of armor in the palace, but they were +all too big and heavy,—every one of them. At +last she gave up in despair and went out to her +bower of roses, and threw herself down on the +ground and cried. And she said, ‘I’m only a +girl, and girls can’t do anything!’ But while +she was crying she suddenly realized that the +bower was growing bright, and she looked up +and saw, standing before her, a knight in white +<a id="page-19" class="pagenum" title="19"></a> +armor. He had a spear that flashed like +lightning and a shield shining like the sun; and +he told the princess to kneel down and he would +make her a knight, too, and that though she +was only a girl she should be the greatest +knight in the whole kingdom. So she knelt +down and he knighted her, and then he gave +her the spear and the shield, and told her that +she would always conquer with that spear, and +that while she carried that shield she couldn’t +be wounded. Then he told her to go and conquer +all the king’s enemies; and so she rode out +on her quest and fought and was victorious. +At last she came back to her palace in triumph, +and as her father was dead, they made her +queen, and at her coronation the knight in +white armor suddenly appeared again, and +crowned her with a crown that shone like the +sun; and she became the greatest queen that +ever lived!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean’s head was raised now; there was a +flush in her pale cheeks and her eyes were shining. +“There—that’s just a babyish fairy-story, +I know,” she apologized; “but it gave +me the idea for our order.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was a real girl knight in history, too,” +said Cecily. “Joan of Arc wore armor and +fought and saved France. I’m sure she looked +just like you, Jean. I’m going to call you +Joan of Arc! Miss Carlton says we can fight +<a id="page-20" class="pagenum" title="20"></a> +<em>our</em> troubles and other people’s too. So we’ll +help to conquer the trouble and unhappiness +in the world, and that’s the way we’ll <em>better</em> +the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we’ll form a society of girl knights,” +Jean went on, “and we’ll have a sword that’ll +conquer all our enemies, like the magic spear in +the legend. I like a sword better than a spear, +don’t you? It sounds so victorious! You +think of a general leading on to victory with his +sword. Well, we must bind ourselves to love +each other always, you know, and Miss Carlton +wants us to be on the lookout to do all the kind +things we can. So our sword will be the sword +of love and kind-heartedness. We’ll have it a +silver sword. Father told me that silver is the +symbol of love and gold the symbol of truth. +We can call ourselves the Order of the Silver +Sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“Order of the Silver Sword! That sounds +splendid!” cried Phyllis. +</p> + +<p> +“And you know King Arthur’s sword was +named Excalibur,” said Jean. “Well, we’ll +name our sword Caritas; that’s the Latin for +love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, <em>amo</em> means to love, child,” Mildred +corrected. “<em>Amo, amas, amat, amamus, +amatis, amant!</em>” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>Amo, amas, amat</em> means the falling-in-love +kind of love,” Jean explained, “but <em>caritas</em> +<a id="page-21" class="pagenum" title="21"></a> +means the other kind: the higher sort of love. +It means charity and kind-heartedness. I +studied it out and then I asked Miss Carlton. +Well, if you like the idea, we’ll be the Order +of the Silver Sword. And the head of the +order will be the Queen, and we’ll elect a new +queen every year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll be a <em>president</em>,” observed +Maud. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course; but you have to say <em>queen</em> +to make it old-timey. The president and her +knights would sound too funny! And the officers +will be the princesses. The secretary can +be the Princess of the Scroll, and the treasurer +can be the Princess of the Treasure. And the +rest of us will be the maids of honor, but we’ll +all of us—Queen and all—be girl knights, warrior +maidens.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just the thing for me!” broke in +Hilda Hastings. “My name means <em>battle +maid</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Hilda mean battle maid? Oh, but +that’s just perfect!” exclaimed Jean. “Battle +maid sounds ever so much better than girl +knight. Let’s call ourselves <em>battle maids</em>, +shall we?” +</p> + +<p> +“But you haven’t said anything about the +badges, Jean,” said Betty. “We’re going to +have the darlingest badges!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Jean. “You know we must have +<a id="page-22" class="pagenum" title="22"></a> +a shield as well as a sword, and the two together +will make a lovely badge. And don’t +you think it would be beautiful, if the sword’s +silver, to have the shield gold?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lovely!” said Thekla. +</p> + +<p> +“So we’ll have the golden shield of truth,” +continued Jean. “That will mean that we’re +going to be true to each other, and true to what +is right. And truth is <em>veritas</em> in Latin,—I +looked it up. So we’ll name our shield Veritas. +And our badge will be a golden shield with a +silver sword across it; and the motto will be +‘Caritas et Veritas.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think it’s a terribly solemn kind +of a society?” ventured Mildred. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, because we’re going to have lots +of fun in it, too!” declared Jean. “We’ll +have meetings every week and always get up +something jolly to do. And we can give entertainments +for charity. We might act a play +some time!” +</p> + +<p> +“And we must have initiations,” said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Initiations are loads of fun,” said Frances. +“We can play all sorts of tricks and scare each +other to death!” +</p> + +<p> +The gleam of silver swords and golden +shields, the martial tone of the enterprise, and +the prospect of initiations and entertainments +kindled the zeal of the company in general, and +from frisky Frances to ponderous Blanche +<a id="page-23" class="pagenum" title="23"></a> +every one expressed her readiness to enlist. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Cecily, when the recruits had +been enrolled, “first of all we’ll have to call a +meeting to elect our officers. Oh, and Jean, do +get us your list of rules! Jean’s written out a +beautiful set of rules.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t had time to finish copying them. +I’ll do it right away. It won’t take me five +minutes,” said Jean. She whispered something +in Cecily’s ear and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to give out my birthday +souvenirs while we’re waiting,” said Cecily, +and she and Betty took from the table the +dainty candy baskets and distributed them +among the guests. To the handle of each +basket was tied with a pink ribbon a card +bearing the name of the girl who received it, +and an accompanying bit of verse. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I didn’t know you could write +poetry!” exclaimed Phyllis, looking up from +her card. +</p> + +<p> +“P’raps I can and p’raps I can’t,” replied +Cecily. “P’raps I promised not to tell who +wrote them!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know who wrote them!” said Hilda. “It +was Jean, so you might as well own up. +She’s the only one of us all who could do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was Jean,” said Betty. “<em>I</em> didn’t +promise not to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“She asked me to give out the baskets while +<a id="page-24" class="pagenum" title="24"></a> +she was out of the room,” said Cecily, “so she +wouldn’t have to listen to her own poems.” +</p> + +<p> +“My, isn’t she funny! I should think she’d +be so proud she could write!” said Phyllis. +“Just listen to mine, girls, it’s too dear for +anything!” And she read: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse2">“Airy and high,</p> + <p class="verse2">Under the sky,</p> + <p class="verse">Is the nest where the orioles flit and fly.</p> + <p class="verse2">Sweet Phyllis, rest,</p> + <p class="verse2">And be a guest</p> + <p class="verse">At the afternoon tea in the Orioles’ Nest.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Cecily ought to have read hers first, because +it’s her birthday,” said Betty. “Read +yours now, Cece,” and Cecily read: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Saint Cecilia, hail to thee</p> + <p class="verse">On this happy day!</p> + <p class="verse">May’st thou sorrow never see,</p> + <p class="verse">But from every care be free!</p> + <p class="verse">May thy life all sunshine be!</p> + <p class="verse">Storm-clouds, keep away!</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“May the birds their sweetest sing</p> + <p class="verse">On this birthday bright!</p> + <p class="verse">May good fairies on the wing</p> + <p class="verse">All their gifts most royal bring,</p> + <p class="verse">And, to crown their offering,</p> + <p class="verse">Joyous dreams to-night!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-25" class="pagenum" title="25"></a> +“Now listen to mine,” said Betty: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Oh, good Queen Bess, in days of yore,</p> + <p class="verse2">A shocking temper had!</p> + <p class="verse">She stamped her foot upon the floor</p> + <p class="verse2">Whenever she was mad.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“She frowned a most terrific frown,</p> + <p class="verse2">And tore her hair so red,</p> + <p class="verse">And brought her golden scepter down</p> + <p class="verse2">On Walter Raleigh’s head!</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“But here we have a good Queen Bess</p> + <p class="verse2">Who rules us with a smile,</p> + <p class="verse">Her heart is full of gentleness</p> + <p class="verse2">And sunshine all the while.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“She ne’er was known to box our ears;</p> + <p class="verse2">She never pulls our hair.</p> + <p class="verse">Then let us give three hearty cheers</p> + <p class="verse2">For <em>our</em> Queen Bess so fair!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Why, that’s simply fine!” exclaimed Maud. +</p> + +<p> +Rhyme after rhyme was read and received +praise that would have set the poet’s pale +cheeks glowing again, could she have heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you two read <em>your</em> poems?” +Cecily demanded of Frances and Adela, who +had sat whispering over their cards without +joining in the applause. +</p> + +<p> +“We Mouses are too ashamed,” said Frances. +<a id="page-26" class="pagenum" title="26"></a> +“Oh, dear! oh, dear! I’m really and truly +ashamed of myself! I made Jean hopping mad +yesterday; I illustrated her composition with +giraffes—giraffe’s my name for her, you know,—she’s +so tall and lanky! And now just hear +what a duck of a thing she’s given <em>me</em>! I’m +going to call her Giraffe the Generous!” And +she read: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Oh, welcome, bright-eyed Frisky,</p> + <p class="verse">You brown and tricksy Mouse!</p> + <p class="verse">Come in and nip and taste and sip,</p> + <p class="verse">At tea in the Orioles’ house.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“We need you at our party</p> + <p class="verse">To frolic and frisk and play,</p> + <p class="verse">For the merriest treat would be incomplete</p> + <p class="verse">If the Brown Mouse stayed away.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Mine’s a dear, too,” said Adela. “Listen: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“O lily-white Mouse, we are glad to see</p> + <p class="verse">You have crept from the Mouse Hole to come to our tea!</p> + <p class="verse">We know your fondness for sugar and spice</p> + <p class="verse">And birthday parties and all things nice.</p> + <p class="verse">So nibble your candies; no cat will molest</p> + <p class="verse">The Mouse that is safe in the Orioles’ Nest.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“I’ll tell you why she’s so nice to you,” said +Cecily. “It’s because she’s using the sword +<a id="page-27" class="pagenum" title="27"></a> +Caritas! And you’ll have to stop teasing her +after this if you wish to belong to the order! +I’m going to tell her we’re all through; and +please everybody be nice to her when she comes +back.” She left the Orioles’ Nest and went upstairs +to Jean’s room, “Castle Afterglow,” as +Jean had sentimentally named it while gazing +out at a sunset. Cecily walked in, stopped +short and stared, the spectacle which met her +astonished gaze banishing all thought of battle +maids and their silver swords. +</p> + +<p> +“Why Jean!” she exclaimed, “what on earth +are you doing? Are you house-cleaning?” +For Jean was sitting on the floor of Castle +Afterglow, surrounded by all her worldly +goods. Dresses and school-books, petticoats +and writing pads, shoes and ribbons, Sunday +hat and tennis racket, all lay in one chaos. +Bureau drawers were tilted forward, empty +and threatening to fall out. The desk had been +emptied and a snowfall of papers was +sprinkled about the room. Jean met Cecily’s +amused look with a glare. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been robbed!” she said, in a tragic +tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Robbed?” cried Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, robbed, robbed, <em>robbed</em>!” Jean repeated. +“And I know who did it, too!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” asked Cecily, thinking of the new +housemaid. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-28" class="pagenum" title="28"></a> +“That contemptible Adela Mears!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, are you crazy! The idea of any girl +at our school stealing! You ought to be +ashamed of yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>I</em> call it stealing, to come into my room +when nobody’s here and take away my book!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, is that all? She borrowed a book?” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>Borrowed!</em> She <em>stole</em> it to torment me, and +I’ll never forgive her!” +</p> + +<p> +“What book was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“The book with all my writings,” moaned +the authoress of fourteen. +</p> + +<p> +“The book she saw you writing in when she +hid in your closet?” asked Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +Jean nodded disconsolately. “I’d scribbled +the rules for the order in the end of the book, +and I hadn’t quite finished copying them out +nicely to read to the girls when I had to go down +to the party. And when I came upstairs just +now, to finish them, I found the book was gone.” +Then she started to her feet. “I’m going for +Adela this very minute!” +</p> + +<p> +Cecily caught Jean and held her tight. +“Wait, <em>please</em> wait!” she begged. “I don’t +believe she’s taken it at all. It’s probably +under some of your things.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s not,” answered Jean, as Cecily +began to fish in the conglomerate mass on the +floor. “I’ve hunted through everything. And +I know it’s Adela, because she’s been simply +<a id="page-29" class="pagenum" title="29"></a> +crazy to find out what’s in my book. I’d <em>die</em> +before I’d show it to <em>her</em>. Oh, the mean, hateful +thing! I’m going for her!” +</p> + +<p> +But Cecily caught her again. “Please! +Jean, please!” she begged. “You don’t want +to spoil our party, do you? Let me go for +you, and if she <em>has</em> taken it I’ll make her give +it back. But if <em>you</em> fly at her and then you find +she hasn’t, you’ll feel so silly.” +</p> + +<p> +“She <em>has</em> taken it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, any way, let me go for you, and you +pick up your things. Miss Sargent will give +you a big scolding if she finds your room like +this.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean knelt down again amid the chaos, but +she asked anxiously: “<em>You</em> won’t look at my +book if you find it, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think not!” answered Cecily, indignantly. +“But why are you so afraid to have +anybody see it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Cecily, it has all my most secret +thoughts!” replied Jean tragically. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? Is it a journal?” +</p> + +<p> +“I began it as a journal,” said Jean. “But +I kept forgetting to write it up. So I began +putting in all kinds of stuff; rhymes and stories +and lots of nonsense; and I’ve written some +things that I wouldn’t have anybody see for +the world. To think of her reading it all and +making fun of it!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-30" class="pagenum" title="30"></a> +“Oh, she couldn’t be so mean! And I don’t +<em>much</em> think she’s taken it,” said Cecily, refusing +to believe in such villainy; but Jean +picked up a little linen handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“Look there!” she cried. “It’s <em>Frances</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +Cecily examined the innocent bit of white and +saw on the hem “Frances E. Browne” marked +in indelible ink. She looked at it in dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“It was both of them! I’ll speak my mind +to them now!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! Go to their <em>room</em> first. They must +have left it there,” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s what I’ll do!” exclaimed Jean. +“I’ll get it first and then I’ll settle them!” +</p> + +<p> +They went down together to the floor below +and invaded the Mouse Hole, searching in every +nook, but that precious volume was nowhere to +be seen. “I’m going <em>now</em>! I’ll <em>make</em> them +give it to me!” Jean’s eyes flashed fire. She +turned and found peeping in at the door, +Frances and Adela. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-5"> +<a id="page-31" class="pagenum" title="31"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER III.</span><br> +A TORNADO +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">here</span> had been two uneasy consciences in +the Orioles’ Nest as the minutes went by +and Cecily and Jean did not appear. Adela +peeped out into the hall and announced: +“There go Jean and Cecily into our room! +Frisky, do you suppose—?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fury! she must have found out!” said +Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Found out what?” asked Phyllis. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here!” said Betty. “You two are up +to something!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, tell us, can’t you? Quick! before they +come back!” begged Mildred. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we?” asked Adela. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care,” said Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on! hurry up!” Mildred urged. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, girls,” said Adela, “this morning +Frisk wanted to make up an ‘apple-pie bed’ for +Blanche, so we sneaked up into her room—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you hadn’t any business to!” said +Blanche. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get mad, old maid, we left your +<a id="page-32" class="pagenum" title="32"></a> +‘apple-pie’ bed for another time,” said Frances. +And Adela went on with the confession. +</p> + +<p> +They had found on the table in “Castle +Afterglow” the book in which Adela had discovered +Jean writing when she had hidden in +her closet. In their mood of thoughtless mischief +the temptation to look at the mysterious +volume had proved irresistible, and honor was +forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +“And it’s the queerest thing you ever saw!” +said Adela. “She’s written the greatest lot of +poems and stories, and <em>odes</em> to—whom do you +think? Somebody she’s in love with!” +</p> + +<p> +“A boy?” asked Blanche. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s a <em>girl</em>. It’s Carol Armstrong! +She’s dead in love with her! Well, we +thought it was a shame for Carol not to know +Jean was in love with her, and we knew wild +horses wouldn’t drag it out of <em>Jean</em>, so we +wrapped it up in white tissue paper and tied +it with red ribbon, and wrote on it, ‘Miss Carol +Armstrong, with love from Jean Lennox’; and +we left it on Carol’s bureau.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! You’re nice girls to belong to the +Order of the Silver Sword!” cried Betty, indignantly. +“That was a dreadfully mean +trick!” +</p> + +<p> +“We didn’t mean any harm. It was only a +joke,” said Frances, looking troubled. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along. Let’s go and see what she’s +<a id="page-33" class="pagenum" title="33"></a> +doing in our room,” Adela proposed, as the +suspense grew unbearable. The guilty twain +left the Orioles’ Nest and crept down the hall, +an excited procession tiptoeing after them; and +peering in at their own door they brought up +face to face with Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Frances Browne, you’ve stolen my book!” +Jean rushed forward and panic seized the culprits. +Frances pulled the door to, shutting +Vengeance inside the Mouse Hole, and clung to +the door-knob with all her might. +</p> + +<p> +“You stole my book! I’ll never forgive +you—never!” cried Jean, furiously, struggling +to open the door. Adela whipped a key from +her belt. She had carried it to the party, intending +to run home first and lock her room-mate +out; but now she used it to lock Jean and +Cecily <em>in</em>. Then she darted away and fled upstairs. +Jean rattled her end of the knob till +she almost wrenched it off, and beat upon the +door, crying wildly: “Let me out! Let me +out!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us out this minute,” Cecily commanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t,” Frances called back. “Whitey’s +run off with the key.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll catch her, though!” said Betty. +“Come girls!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a sound of feet hurrying away, but +Blanche lingered to soothe her room-mate. +“Jean, don’t make such a fuss. Miss Sargent +<a id="page-34" class="pagenum" title="34"></a> +will hear you,” she called. “They gave your +book to Carol Armstrong for a joke, that was +all. You can get it back as soon as they let +you out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frances, you and Adela are cruel, wicked, +dishonorable girls!” cried Jean, passionately. +“I’ll never forgive you as long as I live, and +I’ll never forget!” +</p> + +<p> +But Frances hurried away to join the hunt for +the White Mouse, and Jean flung herself down +in despair on Adela’s bed, and buried her +burning face in her enemy’s pillow. She knew +Carol was giving a tea to the senior class, of +which she was the President. No doubt she +was reading the book at that very moment to +her classmates, and they were laughing together +over those sentimental outpourings. +The idea was unbearable! +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t feel so badly,” said +Cecily. “I don’t believe Carol’s reading +your book at all. I wonder if I could make +her hear if I put my head out of the window +and screeched. I’d tell her not to read +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can get out by the window!” cried +Jean. She was across the room in an instant +and raising the sash. “Come on!” she said, +and scrambled upon the sill. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you,” replied Cecily, gripping +<a id="page-35" class="pagenum" title="35"></a> +her fast. “I don’t care to break my neck, and +you shan’t break yours, either!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fiddle! we won’t get hurt! I’ll go crazy +if I stay locked up any longer!” Jean twitched +herself free and let herself down to the sloping +piazza roof. The bow-window of Carol’s room +was open. In it a girl was sitting, and though +her back was turned, Jean recognized Nancy +Newcomb by the copper-red hair shining in the +sun. The sound of laughter came through the +open window. +</p> + +<p> +“Cecily,” she said, “I simply <em>must</em> find out +if those girls are reading my book.” +</p> + +<p> +Deaf to her friend’s pleading, she made her +way slowly and cautiously along the roof and +safely reached the bow-window. The curtain +sheltered her, and peeping over Nancy’s shoulder, +she looked in. There on the divan was +Carol, flushed and laughing, and struggling to +rise, while her room-mate, Eunice Stanley, held +her down and Marion Gaylord sat in her lap, +fettering her with arms around her neck. +Helen Westover, standing behind, pressed a fat +sofa cushion down on the prisoner’s head, and +called out: “Now, Nan, go ahead while I have +her smothered!” +</p> + +<p> +Furtively Jean craned her neck and saw the +lost book open on Nancy’s lap. That was the +moment to speak, but she felt paralyzed; and +Nancy began slowly and impressively: +</p> + +<h3 class="hdr" id="subchap-0-5-1"> +<a id="page-36" class="pagenum" title="36"></a> +To Carol +</h3> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">My love has a forehead broad and fair,</p> + <p class="verse">And the breeze-blown curls of her chestnut hair</p> + <p class="verse">Fall over it softly, the gold and the red</p> + <p class="verse">A shining aureole round her head.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">Her clear eyes gleam with an amber light,</p> + <p class="verse">For sunbeams dance in them swift and bright!</p> + <p class="verse">And over those eyes so golden brown,</p> + <p class="verse">Long, shadowy lashes droop gently down.</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Take away that cushion, Helen,” said +Marion. “I want to measure her shadowy +lashes. Hold up your head, Beauty. Let me +see if your eyes really are <em>yaller</em>.” +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">Oh, pale with envy the rose doth grow</p> + <p class="verse">That my lady lifts to her cheek’s warm glow!</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Nancy continued. “Imagine Carol sentimentally +lifting a rose to her cheek! She probably +presented it to the botany class for dissection. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">But for joy its blushes would come again</p> + <p class="verse">If my lady to kiss the rose should deign.</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Girls, we’ve discovered the rising genius +of the twentieth century! I’m sorry the last +verse is scratched out, and she’s written +‘apple’ all over it, so you can’t read a word.” +<a id="page-37" class="pagenum" title="37"></a> +She turned a page or two and gave a shriek of +glee. “This is the richest yet! Carol is the +heroine of a novel! It’s called ‘Hearts of +Gold!’ Listen: +</p> + +<div class="citation"> +<p class="noindent"> +The sun was setting. The western sky was all +ablaze, and in the radiance of the dying day stood +Carol on the brow of Rosslyn Hill. She shaded her +eyes with her hand, and gazed down the hillside. She +was a tall, beautiful girl, with sunset gleams in her +hair.” +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Sunset gleams! Oh, now we know what +color Carol’s hair is!” said Marion. “It’s +purple and crimson and gold and pink, with +streaks of green!” +</p> + +<div class="citation"> +<p class="noindent"> +But she was not thinking of the lovely picture +that she made. Far down the green slope she saw, +climbing the hill, a tall, athletic figure; young, handsome, +and manly. Her breath came quick; her heart +throbbed. Arthur de Laney was coming! +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +A peal of laughter interrupted the reader. +Poor Jean! She listened, her cheeks burning. +But Carol freed herself at last, and flew to +recapture the prize. +</p> + +<p> +“You wretch, give me back my property!” +she cried. “I’m going to have Jean for my +maid of honor when I marry Arthur, and I +won’t invite any of you to my wedding!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-38" class="pagenum" title="38"></a> +There was a laughing battle, from which she +came out victorious. The next moment there +came an unlooked for diversion. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean Lennox, what are you doing on the +roof?” The start that Jean gave nearly made +her lose her balance. She looked up and saw +Miss Sargent leaning out of the third story window +directly overhead. The girls, hearing the +voice, looked out, and Jean stood revealed to +the senior class. +</p> + +<p> +“You eavesdropper!” cried Nancy. “You +scared me to death!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, poet laureate!” called Carol; and +Jean came in with the precipitation of a bombshell, +and in an equally friendly manner. She +was quivering with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean Lennox, you’re a genius!” exclaimed +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me back my book!” Jean demanded +fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, I won’t! It’s lovely,” said Carol. +“Don’t misunderstand, dear. They were just +teasing <em>me</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me back my book!” Jean repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t. It’s too valuable a present,” +said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s <em>not</em> a present!” and Jean snatched the +book away. “<em>I</em> didn’t give it to you. It was +Frances and Adela!” +</p> + +<p> +“Frances and Adela! Why, what do you +<a id="page-39" class="pagenum" title="39"></a> +mean!” asked Carol. “Didn’t <em>you</em> leave it +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I’d be such a conceited +idiot?” cried poor Jean. “Frances and Adela +stole it out of my room and gave it to you +just to plague me!” +</p> + +<p> +“The wicked little monkeys!” exclaimed +Carol. “Won’t I pitch into them when I catch +them! But you needn’t mind our seeing your +book. You ought to be proud of it! I’m sure +<em>I’m</em> proud to have such lovely things written +about me. And you mustn’t mind Nan and +Marion; they’d make fun of Shakespeare!” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we were only teasing Carol,” said +Nancy. “We were afraid she’d get vain with +so many compliments! Dear me! I wish I +could write half as well!” +</p> + +<p> +“You must write for the ‘<em>Hazel Nut</em>,’ after +this, Jean,” said Eunice, who was editor of the +school paper. +</p> + +<p> +But Jean was too deeply wounded to take +their assurances in earnest. Crimson with +shame, she turned toward the door. Carol followed +and put her arm over her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t feel so hurt, dear,” she began +gently. Here the door burst open and in +rushed Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Frances and Adela came back and let me +out, and Miss Sargent caught them!” said she. +“I’m afraid she’ll be coming after <em>you</em> now, +<a id="page-40" class="pagenum" title="40"></a> +Jean. Don’t go out or she’ll see you.” And +then indignant Cecily told the story of the book +stealing and the locking in. +</p> + +<p> +“Those children always <em>were</em> terrors, especially +Adela! This is simply outrageous!” +declared Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have to see they’re kept suppressed +after this,” said Eunice, with severity +in her blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I <em>intend</em> to suppress them!” said Carol, +with decision. She stepped out into the hall, +and stepped back again with the warning: +“Look out, everybody! the sergeant-at-arms +is coming!” +</p> + +<p> +The next minute Miss Sargent was in the +room. She carried herself with the military +erectness that distinguished her, and said +sternly: “Jean, I am astonished! You have +done a most dangerous thing. Do you not know +that it is absolutely forbidden for any girl to +venture out on the roof?” +</p> + +<p> +“But she was locked in, poor child!” Carol +interposed. “The law doesn’t say you +mustn’t get out on the roof if you’re locked in +and can’t get out any other way, does it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Armstrong, I think you forget yourself,” +said the teacher. “It was most unladylike, +most hoidenish, Jean, for a great girl of +your age to climb out there as you did. Do +you not know that you endangered your life? +<a id="page-41" class="pagenum" title="41"></a> +It is a miracle you did not slip and fall. Now, +go to your room. I found it in a most disgraceful +state of disorder just now. Put everything +in its place at once. You will remain there till +Miss Carlton returns from New York this +evening.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean felt Cecily give her hand a sympathetic +squeeze. She started to leave the room, but +Carol’s arm was around her still, and it tightened +and held her back. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Sargent,” said Carol earnestly, +“please don’t send her to her room. She +hasn’t been the least bit to blame. Some of +the girls have been treating her abominably and +she’s all excited and upset. Just see how +nervous she is: she’s trembling all over! Let +me keep her here with me and get her quieted +down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol, I must remind you that it is not your +place to interfere with the teachers,” returned +Miss Sargent. “Jean, go to your room +instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean obeyed, but as she left the room she +gave Carol one grateful look and saw that the +clear brown eyes were flashing. +</p> + +<p> +Then she ran upstairs, slammed her door, +and imprisoned herself in Castle Afterglow. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-6"> +<a id="page-42" class="pagenum" title="42"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER IV.</span><br> +CASTLE AFTERGLOW +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">J</span><span class="postfirstchar">ean’s</span> first act on shutting herself up in her +castle was to fling her book across the room. +Then she picked it up and tore it into fragments. +Busy with destruction, she forgot to +put the disordered premises to rights, and by +the time that a mass of scraps in the wastebasket +and a bent and inky cover were all that +was left of the book, Miss Sargent came in. +Finding that chaos still reigned, she made her +scolding doubly sharp. The tired, nervous +teacher found her pupil most exasperating, for +Jean would give her only scowls and glum +silence, and Miss Sargent left her with the assurance +that her “disobedience and ill-temper” +would be reported to Miss Carlton on her return +from the city. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly and wearily Jean put the room in +order, tormenting herself over her grievances +as she did so, and hotly rebelling against life. +Suddenly, in collecting the scattered contents +of her desk, she picked up the paper on which +she had been copying her code of rules for the +<a id="page-43" class="pagenum" title="43"></a> +order. Her eyes fell on the heading: “The +Order of the Silver Sword.” The name of that +sword was Caritas,—it was a sword of love! +At the very outset of her quest, Jean had forgotten +her silver weapon and been worsted +when she might have gained a victory! Her +brave resolutions came back to her: she had decided +that her own hot temper should be one +of the enemies she would fight down with the +sword of love; and now she had fallen in her +first battle! Cecily had seen her, and all the +girls must have heard her! “I founded the +order, and then I got angry the first minute!” +she said to herself. “And I felt as if I hated +Frances and Adela! I said I’d never forgive +them! They’ll all think I wasn’t in earnest +in what I said about fighting our battles, and +charity, and all that! I’ve disgraced myself! +I can’t ever look them in the face again!” +</p> + +<p> +Then came passionate longing for home. If +only she could tell out the whole trouble in the +comforting shelter of her mother’s arms! And +the humiliation of her downfall, and the rush of +homesickness, together, brought the rain after +the thunder. +</p> + +<p> +That evening, when the girls gathered in the +gymnasium for the Saturday dance, Carol +was missing. She had slipped away in her +pretty white dress, and just as the music was +beginning she was knocking at the door of +<a id="page-44" class="pagenum" title="44"></a> +Castle Afterglow. No answer came. She +opened the door and went in. The room was +dark, but the light from the hall showed Jean +huddled in a forlorn bunch on the window-seat. +Her head was turned away, and she was resting +her forehead against the pane. +</p> + +<p> +“May I come in?” asked Carol. +</p> + +<p> +Jean started and looked at her visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“You poor little soul, all alone here in the +doleful dark!” said Carol. “May I light up? +It’s against the rules to come, I know, but I +can’t help it. I simply <em>had</em> to run up and +see you! You don’t mind if I pay you a +call?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no!” said Jean, longingly, for her heart +was very hungry just then. +</p> + +<p> +Carol turned on the electric light. “Why, +Jean, dear!” she cried, as she saw the poor +girl’s face. It was feverishly flushed, and disfigured +with the burning tears that had been +shed. +</p> + +<p> +Jean was ashamed to have her piteous state +found out, and bent her head. But Carol +seated herself beside the pathetic little figure, +and, putting her arms around her, drew her +close and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“You poor little girlie!” she said. “They’ve +been martyring you! The idea of shutting you +up in prison like this! It was an outrageous +shame! Never mind! You just wait till Miss +<a id="page-45" class="pagenum" title="45"></a> +Carlton comes back, and she’ll set things +straight! But I’m glad I got the book, any +way! To think I might have gone on to the +end of school, and never found you out, you +dear!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean listened to the girl who had seemed so +far above her, and had suddenly come so close, +and her poor, little, lonely heart began to be +consoled: yet she held herself stiff and erect, +for she felt her self-control giving way under +kindness. The tears were rising again, and, in +spite of her efforts to keep them back, down her +cheeks they rolled. She tried to jerk herself +away, but it was no use. Carol had seen the +tears, and she drew the tired, aching head +gently down on her shoulder. Then Jean gave +up the struggle, and nestling close to her new +friend, had her cry all over again; but all the +time there was the sense of being comforted, +for Carol’s arms were holding her fast, and she +heard a soft voice speaking the first loving, +petting words that she had heard in all those +dreary months at school. Jean lifted her head +at last. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help it!” she said. “I was so +homesick, and I wanted—somebody—so much! +And—and—I thought—nobody cared. And I +was so dreadful to-day. I got so angry! I +disgraced myself so! Oh, my head! It never +ached so before!” She pressed her hands to +<a id="page-46" class="pagenum" title="46"></a> +her temples where it seemed as if hammers +were pounding. +</p> + +<p> +“Does your head ache so, dear?” Carol +stroked Jean’s forehead. “Why, you poor +child! Your head’s burning!” she exclaimed. +“Bed’s the place for <em>you</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to go to bed,” said Jean, too +tired to stir. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you do! Then we can have the +light out and let in some fresh air. This +room’s cooking hot! I don’t wonder your +head aches.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go to bed later, but I want <em>you</em>, now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’re going to have me! I’m the +one that’s going to put you to bed. Come +along! I’m a terrible boss, you know; and I +always get my own way, so you might as well +give in prettily first as last.” Merrily masterful, +Carol took possession of Jean, and a +few minutes afterward the patient found herself +in bed. +</p> + +<p> +“I love to play trained nurse,” said Carol, +tucking her up. “Now I’m going to show you +the way I cure Eunice when she’s studied herself +into a headache. I’ll have to go and get +something first. Will you be a good baby while +I’m gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be good,” Jean promised, and she lay +still, feeling as if the world had turned around +<a id="page-47" class="pagenum" title="47"></a> +in a very unexpected way during the last few +minutes. +</p> + +<p> +Carol’s “something” turned out to be +cracked ice, and she returned from a trip to the +lower regions with a bowlful. +</p> + +<p> +“Delia was a jewel,” she said. “She’s +given me enough to freeze ice cream. She’s +quite broken-hearted because you wouldn’t eat +any dinner, and she says she’s going to bring +you up some ‘crame toast’ when she comes upstairs, +to ‘timpt your appetoite.’” +</p> + +<p> +While Jean cooled her parched throat with +ice Carol rummaged about for handkerchiefs, +taking tidy Blanche’s when she could not find +Jean’s. She soaked a handkerchief, wrung it +out, cooled it in her bowl of ice, and laid it on +the burning forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but that feels good!” murmured Jean. +</p> + +<p> +Carol put out the light, raised the window, +letting in the crisp night air, and settled herself +in a chair by the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said she, “we’re as cozy as can be, +and you’re going to sleep like a well brought +up infant.” +</p> + +<p> +She began to stroke the aching head with a +soft, quieting touch. Jean closed her eyes and +lay obediently still; and gradually, as the +cold compresses were renewed and the gentle +stroking soothed her, the hammers in her head +<a id="page-48" class="pagenum" title="48"></a> +beat less and less violently, until only a dull, +throbbing pain was left. But after a while she +stirred restlessly; then came a sigh; then: +“How much did you read of that thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“You disobedient baby!” said Carol. “I +thought you were sound asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was, almost. But then I got thinking. I +feel ever so much better now, and I’d rather +talk. Carol,—you’re <em>so</em> dear and lovely to me!—I +think you’ll understand. I think if I just +talk everything out first, then maybe I’ll really +go to sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, if you don’t think it’ll hurt your +head,” said Carol. “That’s what I came up +for, to talk it all out.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean found Carol’s hand and held it gratefully; +but her mind was troubled. “Tell me +what you read,” she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +“I will. But first I want you to understand +that nobody had the least idea of doing anything +dishonorable. I didn’t mean the girls to +read the book at all. But like a goose I left +it out on my chiffonnier, and Nan got hold of +it when I wasn’t noticing and the first thing I +knew, there she was, reading away! She’s +very sorry now,—we all are,—so you’ll have +to forgive us all round. You would, I’m sure, +if you’d heard us praising you this evening. +Promise me you’ll let me have a copy of those +poems.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-49" class="pagenum" title="49"></a> +“I tore the old book up,” the poet confessed. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean! You Goth, Vandal, and Hun! How +could you!” exclaimed Carol, reproachfully. +“Where are the pieces? In the scrap-basket?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but please don’t get them out! I +don’t want ever to see that miserable old stuff +any more. Please, Carol!” And, as Carol +rose, Jean pulled her back. +</p> + +<p> +“No, dearie, I won’t tease you when you +have a headache. Only it was wicked of you,” +said Carol. “Promise you won’t let the scraps +be thrown away till I’ve fished out what I +want. I’m going to compile all the lovely +things you said about me, and send a copy to +my family. Then perhaps they’ll really begin +to appreciate me at last! No, dear, I’m not +making fun of you,—indeed I’m not! Honest +Injun! Now I’ll tell you what I read. I read +all there was of the novel—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that idiotic old novel!” groaned Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a fine old novel, and you must finish +it! I’m wild to find out if I marry Arthur +de Lancy! Oh, Jean! Now I know who’s +been leaving me presents of candy and flowers +all winter! It was Arthur!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was Arthur,” said Jean laughing, +and she hid her face in the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +“You rogue!” cried Carol. “Please tell +him the flowers were perfectly lovely, and he +<a id="page-50" class="pagenum" title="50"></a> +always picked out my favorite kinds of candy. +I read the <em>odes</em> to myself, too,” she went on, +“and my head’s so turned I’ll never get it +straight again! And I read most of the +poems; and, dearie, I never heard anything so +pathetic as some of them! Jean, dear, have +you really been so lonely and homesick all this +time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m dreadfully homesick! You see I +never was away from mother, even for a night, +till I came to school.” +</p> + +<p> +“You poor little thing; it must be fearfully +hard for you! And coming all the way from +Brazil! It’s very different from being able to +go home every vacation like the rest of us! +We ought to have a good shaking, every one +of us, for not joining together and petting +you. But you sha’n’t be lonely any more—no, +you sha’n’t! Now, dear, tell me, for I’m puzzled +to death. How did you ever come to +choose <em>me</em>, and talk as if I really were your +best friend, and write all those beautiful things +to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did want a friend so,” Jean answered. +“I mean a real intimate friend. Every girl +in school has one except me, and it hurts so to +be left out! I don’t mean the girls aren’t +friendly enough, but they all have their own +chums, and I don’t like to push myself in. I +<em>can’t</em> make friends somehow! And so I +<a id="page-51" class="pagenum" title="51"></a> +thought if I couldn’t have a real friend, I could +play I had one, anyway. And I thought I’d +rather have <em>you</em> than any one else in the world. +You’re so beautiful, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean! You have the <em>wildest</em> imagination!” +</p> + +<p> +“But you <em>are</em> beautiful; all the girls think +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“They <em>don’t</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“They <em>do</em>. And then you’re so—so sort of +splendid, you know!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mercy!” gasped Carol. “No, I <em>don’t</em> +know! I’m anything but splendid!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you <em>are</em> splendid. And I just imagined +you were my best friend. You know if +you imagine hard enough, you can make anything +seem true. And,—please don’t think me +a perfect goose,—sometimes I pretend we’re +having lovely times together. I can stop homesick +fits that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, darling,” said Carol. “Why didn’t +you come right to me? Then we really would +have had lovely times together. But how was +I to know you wanted me, when you never came +near me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t think you’d want to bother with a +little snip like me. You’re so high up, you +know!” +</p> + +<p> +“Please just where between heaven and +earth do I hang?” Carol inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, you know what I mean. You’re +<a id="page-52" class="pagenum" title="52"></a> +president of the senior class, and you’re so +popular; everybody just adores you! Carol, +do you think I’m terribly crazy and queer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’re a darling,” said Carol, and +kissed her. “And I think we were a set of +horrid, old, blind bats not to see you needed +looking after! And I think I want to have you +for my friend just as much as you want me +for yours, so we’ll turn the make-believe into +real, won’t we? Just you come right straight +to <em>me</em>, whenever you want me. Will you, +dear?” +</p> + +<p> +For answer Jean raised herself in bed and +flung her arms around Carol’s neck. +</p> + +<p> +“The real <em>me</em> isn’t half as nice as the make-believe,” +said Carol, “but I’ll do the best I +can.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a million times nicer!” declared +Jean. “But won’t you get tired of me?” she +added. “I’ll want to be coming to you all the +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, come all the time,” said Carol. +“Come and tell your ‘best friend’ all your +troubles, and I’ll pet you up. I think everybody +needs some one to tell troubles to.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure <em>I</em> do,” sighed Jean. “I always +had mother at home; but here,—why, I can’t +even write them to her, because she’s such an +invalid now, and she’d worry. Oh, I’m so +glad I can tell <em>you</em>! I have such stacks of +<a id="page-53" class="pagenum" title="53"></a> +troubles, all the time! Something goes wrong +about every day. I have such a dreadful +temper!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody else ever had one, you know!” remarked +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody ever had such a dreadful one. I +get so furious, I don’t know what I’m saying +or doing,—as I did to-day!” +</p> + +<p> +“Shake hands, Jeanie, I’m a terrible pepper-pot, +myself!” said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Carol! I don’t believe it! I <em>know</em> you’re +always perfectly lovely.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Distance lends enchantment,’” quoted +Carol. “Wait till you know me better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really mean you have a quick temper +too?” asked Jean, delighted to find this +link between herself and Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed I have! Why, Fräulein Bunsen +named me the ‘Storm Child,’ the first year I +came here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Storm Child?” exclaimed Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I was only fourteen when I came, +and I skylarked straight through my first year. +I used to get into tempers, too; and once there +was a blizzard raging out-of-doors, and little +Carol Armstrong was raging away indoors, +and Fräulein Bunsen came out from her German +class just then, and she said: ‘You are +like that tempest, liebchen! I shall call you +the <em>Sturm Kind</em>—the Storm Child.’ She said +<a id="page-54" class="pagenum" title="54"></a> +it in the cunningest way. But it made me feel +so ashamed of myself that I did try to hold my +tongue after that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure she doesn’t call you that now,” +said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, she does! It’s her pet name for +me. And I call her ‘Bunny.’ Little Fräulein +and I are regular chums.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’d better call <em>me</em> Storm Child. +It exactly suits me,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll name you ‘Storm Child the Second,’” +replied Carol. “Now, Storm Child the Second, +next time you feel tempestuous, just come and +pay Storm Child the First a visit; because, you +see, I know just how hard it is to keep from +blazing out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will!” and Jean squeezed her friend’s +hand tight. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, have we talked it all out, or are there +any more troubles that want to be told?” asked +Carol, as Jean lay silent. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a great big trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“A great big trouble! Well, let’s hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, one reason I felt so terribly was because +we were getting up an order. I started +it. It was the Order of the Silver Sword.” +And won to confidence Jean poured out the +story of the band of battle maids who were to +conquer by love, and of her own miserable defeat. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-55" class="pagenum" title="55"></a> +“Oh, just think of my talking so hard about +Caritas, and then being so bad and wicked the +next minute! I’ll have to give it all up! I’ve +ruined everything,” she ended, with a choke in +her voice. “I won’t dare to say a word about +the Silver Sword again, ever! They’ll think +I didn’t mean what I said! Oh, dear! I wish +I needn’t ever see the girls again!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Battle Maid, are you going to cry +‘Quarter’ as easily as all that?” said Carol, +cheerily. “You’ve only been unhorsed in the +first fight, and that was always happening to +the knights, wasn’t it? They were unhorsed, +and then they got up again and fought on foot, +didn’t they? That’s what you’ll have to do. +Now, you’re up! Now go for the enemy again +with your silver sword. You’ll beat him next +time!” +</p> + +<p> +“But they won’t want me in the order after +the way I behaved,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t they? You ought to see how the +girls are all up in arms for you! I pity those +poor Mice when they come out of their hole! +Why, everybody’s on your side!” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d spoiled the whole order,” +said Jean with a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed, you haven’t. And Jean, dear, +I’m just as sure as sure can be that you’ll +conquer in the end, with Caritas for your +sword.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-56" class="pagenum" title="56"></a> +“Do you really think so?” asked Jean wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I <em>know</em> you will. And I know your order +is going to do ever so much good in the school. +It’s a splendid idea of yours: the sword of love +and the shield of truth! They’re just the +things that are needed, I’m sure. And I’m +sure a girl like you, who can think of an order +like the Silver Sword, can be a fine influence +in her class. You don’t know how much good +you can do, Jean!” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol! not really! Do you think there’s a +<em>chance</em>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed you can,” said the president of the +seniors. “You have no idea what an influence +one single girl can have if she stands up +steadily for what’s right.” +</p> + +<p> +A step sounded in the hall just then. The +door opened,—and there stood Miss Carlton +herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, my little girl!” she said softly. +“Why, Carol—are <em>you</em> here!” as Carol turned +on the light. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Carlton, Jean’s sick with a bad headache,” +Carol explained. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor child! It often ends so, doesn’t +it?” said Miss Carlton. She bent down and +kissed Jean, then took Carol’s place by the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I broke the rules,” said Jean. +<a id="page-57" class="pagenum" title="57"></a> +“I lost my head when I found we were locked +in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry you could not control yourself +better, dear,” said Miss Carlton. “If you had +waited quietly as Cecily did, this trouble would +not have come. Now tell me exactly how it +all happened.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean began to explain, but her vague remarks +about looking for something in Frances’ +and Adela’s room, and her hesitation and distress +made Miss Carlton turn to Carol and ask +her if she could finish the story. Carol could +and did, with no qualms of conscience about +bringing the Mice to justice. +</p> + +<p> +“My child, you have had a hard trial to-day,” +said Miss Carlton, when she had heard +it all. “Frances and Adela have done a very +wrong and dishonorable thing, and one which +they will be heartily sorry for. And when they +come to make their peace with you, as they will +have to do, you must meet them more than halfway, +as we say, and treat them like the warmhearted, +generous girl that you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“I told them I’d never forgive them,” +whispered Jean, penitently. “I was so angry!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, little girl,” said Miss Carlton, “we +can never unsay the things our bad tempers +make us say. But cheer up, now, for I am trying +to help you fight your battle, and I fancy +<a id="page-58" class="pagenum" title="58"></a> +Carol is too.” Bending over the tired girl for +a good-night kiss, she added: “And wait till +the house is on fire before you let your nervous +fears send you on the roof again. Poor Miss +Sargent is trembling still, I’m afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“I <em>am</em> going to be good, now; I <em>will</em> be +good,” answered Jean softly, with a grateful +kiss in return. +</p> + +<p> +While Jean rested contentedly on her pillow, +Carol followed Miss Carlton into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Carlton, I ought to confess,” said +she with more glee than repentance in her +face, “I’m here without permission.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so, Carol,” replied Miss Carlton. +“But I understand. I know your loving heart +could not resist going to comfort that poor little +lonely girl. Carol, you have won Jean’s admiration +and love, and I believe you can help +her a great deal in the battle she has to fight. +Will you take her for your little sister for the +rest of the year?” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-7"> +<a id="page-59" class="pagenum" title="59"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER V.</span><br> +THE QUEEN OF THE SILVER SWORD +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">J</span><span class="postfirstchar">ean</span> awoke on Sunday morning conscious +that she was making a fresh start in her +life at Hazelhurst with the real Carol Armstrong +for her friend. She found Carol waiting +for her as the girls were going to breakfast, +and they entered the dining-room with +their arms around each other. Breakfast over, +the Mice made for their hole with speed. They +had seen Miss Carlton’s eye turn ominously in +their direction. +</p> + +<p> +The Orioles drew Jean into their nest. +“Joan of Arc,” said Cecily, “what do you +think we girls did last night? We held a meeting +and elected officers for the Silver Sword! +And Betty’s to be Princess of the Treasure, +and I’m Princess of the Scroll, and <em>you</em>’re the +Queen!” +</p> + +<p> +“Me!” exclaimed Jean, astonished quite out +of good English. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you! You’ve been unanimously +elected.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not good enough! I behaved so +<a id="page-60" class="pagenum" title="60"></a> +dreadfully!” stammered Jean. “I shouldn’t +think you’d want me to belong to the order at +all! <em>You</em> ought to be the Queen, Cecily; +you’re so sweet and good all the time! You’d +make a splendid one.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t at all, and I’m not sweet and +good a bit!” declared St. Cecilia. “You’re the +Queen and you can’t help yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll make the best queen of all, Jean. +You know how to plan things so beautifully. +If we don’t have you, we won’t have anybody! +We’ll give up the order! There now!” This +was Betty’s ultimatum. +</p> + +<p> +Jean looked at her friends as if she could not +believe that it was true,—this honor after her +wrathful outburst. Then she dropped her eyes +to hide a gathering mist, and while she stood +silent, with bent head, she took a strong resolve +to prove herself worthy of her crown. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon, as Jean was sitting at her +desk writing her “home letter,” Frances and +Adela came to her, fresh from a penitential half +hour in Miss Carlton’s study. Adela drummed +on the desk, her cheeks crimson. Frances took +up Jean’s pencils and examined them one after +another as if she found them very interesting. +It was Jean who spoke first. +</p> + +<p> +“Girls, I said hateful things to you, yesterday—I +was so angry! I’m very, very sorry. +Won’t you please forgive me?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-61" class="pagenum" title="61"></a> +“Good gracious! You’re the one to do the +forgiving!” burst out Frances. “It was perfectly +horrid of us to go and take your book! +I’m terribly sorry! Won’t you please forgive +<em>me</em>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will!” Jean raised her face as +Frances bent over her, and they marked the +victory of Caritas with a kiss of peace. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, too, Jean! I didn’t think +you’d mind so. And I wouldn’t have locked +you in, only you seared me to death. Will you +forgive me too?” asked Adela. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course!” answered Jean. She took +Adela’s hand, gave it a hearty squeeze, and +held it fast. +</p> + +<p> +As they were going away Frances dropped a +kiss on the back of Jean’s neck, and Adela said +thoughtfully, “You’ll make a fine queen!” +</p> + +<p> +The initiation ceremony of the order took +place on the following Saturday evening. The +maids of honor trooped into the studio to find +a royal trio awaiting them. There, in an armchair +for a throne, sat their sovereign, in her +hand a real sword, a revolutionary heirloom +lent by Miss Carlton. The princesses of the +Scroll and the Treasure stood beside her, +Cecily holding a roll of paper and Betty a +white silk bag tied with yellow ribbon, as their +symbols of office. +</p> + +<p> +The queen rose and welcomed her maidens in +<a id="page-62" class="pagenum" title="62"></a> +a little speech, carefully prepared. Then she +called the two princesses to receive the accolade. +They knelt before her, and Jean +struck Cecily lightly on the shoulder with the +blade that had been drawn for liberty, saying, +“I dub thee battle maid of the Order of +the Silver Sword. Be always faithful to the +sword of love and the shield of truth!” Then +she pinned on Cecily’s breast a badge painted +by the princess of the Scroll herself,—the +sword of silver on the shield of gold. “Rise, +battle maid!” she said, and Cecily arose, the +first warrior maiden of the order. The princess +of the Treasure was next given the accolade, +then each maid of honor in turn, and +last of all the queen herself received it, the two +princesses, one after the other, touching her +shoulder with the sword. +</p> + +<p> +When every girl in the room had become a +battle maid, with the gold and silver badge on +her breast, Cecily opened her scroll and read +aloud the laws of the order; and the initiation +over, Jean said, “Princesses and maids of +honor, welcome to our royal banquet!” +</p> + +<p> +Betty and Cecily removed a screen and displayed +the painting-table festooned with smilax, +upon it a feast of cake and lemonade. The +banquet was beginning when there was a knock +at the door, and Frances ran to open it. “Ice +cream!” she cried, and in came Carol and Eunice, +<a id="page-63" class="pagenum" title="63"></a> +each carrying a tray with saucers of ice +cream in the form of fruits and flowers. “An +offering to the noble Order of the Silver +Sword!” said Carol. She and Eunice set down +their contribution; then, curtseying low, they retired +amid cheers for the president of the seniors +and her room-mate. +</p> + +<p> +The order had an auspicious beginning, with +such allies; and among the battle maids there +awoke that evening a spirit of firm loyalty to +the queen, to one another, and to the sword +and shield. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Some good fighting was done between the initiation +night and Commencement week. If a +pupil or a teacher was ill “Caritas” was sure +to be drawn in her behalf, and she received +a cheery present of flowers “with best wishes +from the Silver Sword.” And from the founding +of the order Miss Carlton dated a marked +improvement in the standing of Jean’s class. +To be sure Adela’s Latin exercises were faultier +than they had sometimes been, but they were at +least the work of her own brains. +</p> + +<p> +No one fought more valiantly than Jean herself, +for when she least expected him that fiery +old enemy of hers was certain to challenge her +to combat. Sometimes the sword was not +drawn in time; but whenever she was overthrown, +there, ready to help her to her feet +<a id="page-64" class="pagenum" title="64"></a> +again, was Carol, who had been through many +a hard battle and knew just how to encourage +the disheartened queen. And little by little the +enemy was mastered; more and more easily he +yielded; less and less often the battle maid had +to own defeat; and another and another victory +was gained. +</p> + +<p> +The Easter vacation was a season of sunshine, +when Jean was so happy that it seemed +as if the foe had declared a truce. Not the +least of her trials was her great-aunt, Mrs. +Pyncheon, with whom her holidays were to be +passed. The Christmas at Adamsville might +as well have been spent in a grave-yard, she +declared. But Carol saved her from a gloomy +Easter-tide by taking her off to New York to +spend the vacation in the Armstrongs’ home. +Jean never forgot that delightful visit, and refreshed +by the glorious holiday she came back +to school to work with new enthusiasm for +prizes at Commencement. +</p> + +<p> +The battle maids toiled hard for love of their +Alma Mater, but still they had time to give a +play for the benefit of their society. Early in +May they acted a dramatization of “The Rose +and the Ring.” Jean made a captivating +Prince Giglio in a white suit trimmed with +cherry-color, a mantle bordered with swan’s-down +and a cap with a snowy ostrich plume. +Cecily was the Princess Rosalba; and whether +<a id="page-65" class="pagenum" title="65"></a> +in peasant dress, serving as the housemaid Betsinda, +or in her pink court robe with flowers in +her hair, standing in her true character as a +maiden of royal blood, so lovely was she that +no magic rose or ring was needed to help her +conquer the hearts of the spectators. Betty, +in her great-grandmother’s blue brocade, was +the Princess Angelica, haughty and capricious; +weighty Blanche, in the role of Prince Bulbo, +looked her part to perfection; and Frances, who +had insisted on being the severe Countess Gruffanuff, +brought down the house again and +again. The play was pronounced by the enthusiastic +audience a brilliant success; Prince +Giglio and the fair Rosalba were acknowledged +to be the brightest stars in the whole troupe; +and at the end of the evening the battle maids +found themselves rich enough to order the gold +and silver badges which they had determined +should replace the paper ones. +</p> + +<p> +And now Commencement was less than a +month away. One afternoon, as Carol and +Eunice were studying for their senior examinations, +Jean came into their room, bringing a +bunch of wild violets for her “Big Sister,” as +she loved to call her friend. Carol stole a minute +from the classics to enjoy the bit of spring +freshness, and Jean dropped down beside her +on the divan. +</p> + +<p> +“Carolie,” she said, “isn’t it just too bad! +<a id="page-66" class="pagenum" title="66"></a> +Cecily’s had the biggest disappointment!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s happened?” asked Carol. “I +<em>thought</em> she looked like a funeral to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, she can’t go to Halcyon Lake this +summer. They have to rent their camp. +She’s just had a letter from her mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Halcyon Lake? I never heard of +it,” said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s in the Adirondacks,” answered Jean. +“It’s way back in the woods. They have the +loveliest camp there, right on the edge of the +lake! They sleep in tents! It used to be a +boys’ camp. Her father was a minister, you +know, and he used to take up youngsters from +Philadelphia. And since he died Cece and her +mother have gone up just by themselves; but +now some people want the camp for the summer, +and her mother says she’s got to let them +have it, because she needs the money so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I didn’t know the Brooks were poor!” +exclaimed Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they are. And Cecily says Miss Carlton’s +educating her for nothing, because she +was her mother’s best friend. Oh, dear! I +think it’s a real shame they have to rent their +camp! An uncle of hers has a little camp there +too, and she has such fun with her cousins! +They canoe all day, and have picnics and camp-fires +and everything!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to go there, myself, for the canoeing,” +<a id="page-67" class="pagenum" title="67"></a> +interrupted Carol. “I have the dearest +little canoe! Poor little St. Cecilia! I don’t +wonder she looked ultramarine! It’s too bad +she can’t go! Camping out’s the only proper +way to spend a summer, <em>I</em> think.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes wandered to the stretch of sunny +landscape that could be seen from her open window. +Suddenly she whistled; then she sprang +up and clapped her hands. “Queenie, I’ve hit +it!” she cried. “My mighty brain has evolved +a scheme. The fortunes of the Brooks are +made forever! We’ll have a <em>girls’</em> camp!” +</p> + +<p> +“Carolie, what do you mean?” Jean was on +her feet too, all excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“A girls’ camp it is!” said Carol, “Una, +wake up! You’ll get blind if you fuss over +that Greek any longer! The cream of Hazelhurst +Hall is going to camp out all summer at +Halcyon Lake,—sleep in tents,—fish,—hunt,—canoe!” +</p> + +<p> +“What <em>are</em> you rattling on about?” asked +Eunice, looking vaguely up from her Greek. +</p> + +<p> +“Una, put down that book this instant!” +Carol commanded. “Do you hear me? Obey +your president! I’m not going to let you +study any more; you’ll be valedictorian anyway, +so what’s the use of working yourself into +nervous prostration! Now listen,—don’t put +on that patient expression!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead! Chatter away! You won’t +<a id="page-68" class="pagenum" title="68"></a> +keep still till you’ve said your say out, I suppose,” +Eunice answered resignedly. +</p> + +<p> +Carol repeated the story of Cecily’s disappointment. +“Now,” said she, “Mrs. Brook +has to rent her camp because she needs the +money. Well, if she gets the money and +stays there too, so much the better. Now it’s +all settled! The whole senior class and all the +other <em>nice</em> girls are going to board at her camp +all summer. Let’s telegraph to her; ‘Don’t +rent. Your fortune’s made!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Carolie, how perfectly glorious!” +screamed Jean, with a jump of delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you certainly are an inventive +genius!” said Eunice. “I suppose there’s not +the slightest chance our families will want us to +be with them this summer!” +</p> + +<p> +“Our families will be only too glad to be rid +of us,” replied Carol. “Now, don’t talk about +visiting your married sister, Una. If she +knows you as well as I do, she won’t want you. +You’re not to be trusted with your baby niece. +You’d carry the poor darling around as if she +were a dictionary, and absent-mindedly stuff +her into a bookshelf.” +</p> + +<p> +Eunice laughed. “I think it’s a perfectly +ideal plan,” she said. “But I’m afraid we +couldn’t collect enough girls.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can, we must, we shall, we <em>will</em> collect +them!” declared Carol. “We’ll boom ‘Camp +<a id="page-69" class="pagenum" title="69"></a> +St. Cecilia-by-the-Lake’ so hard we’ll fill it in +less than no time. There won’t even be standing +room left! You’re coming, you know, +Jeanie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh! I’d love to go!” cried Jean. +“Then I’d be with <em>you</em>, all summer! If only +I can get off from visiting Aunt Lucretia!” +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll <em>have</em> to let you off,” said Carol. +“I’m going to steal you for the summer, wherever +I am. But we’ll get to camp. We’ll +have shoals of girls,—don’t you worry!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder how many we could get together,” +said Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s Marion,” said Carol. +“She’d love to go! It would be such a chance +for her to sketch. And there are Nan and the +wild, woolly Westover—we can count on them, +they’re so daft about fishing. That’s six already. +Let’s call a class meeting this evening, +Una, and start the Halcyon Lake boom.” +</p> + +<p> +The camping project was advertised with +signal success. Miss Carlton, herself, favored +the plan, and she as well as radiant Cecily +wrote to Mrs. Brook, whose answer was an offer +to take as many girls as the tents would +hold, and the assurance that she would give +up all thought of renting her camp. If parental +consent could have been gained by all the +damsels who had caught the camping fever, +Mrs. Brook would have found nearly the whole +<a id="page-70" class="pagenum" title="70"></a> +school begging for accommodation, but many +were doomed to disappointment. At last, +however, seventeen girls were enrolled, with +Miss Hamersley, the teacher of athletics, and +Fräulein Bunsen, as the chaperones of the +party. There were Carol and Eunice and four +more seniors, six juniors, and four “sophs.” +Last on the list came Betty Randolph, she and +Cecily being the only members of the order as +yet represented. Jean still waited to know her +destiny. She had sent an eloquent appeal to +her mother and father imploring them to allow +her to go to camp, but the letter had to travel +all the way to Brazil, and while in a fever of +impatience she watched for the answer to come, +she was haunted with the dread of spending the +summer with Aunt Lucretia Pyncheon. +</p> + +<p> +Commencement Day arrived, bringing diplomas +and prizes. The battle maids reaped +a rich harvest after their months of hard fighting, +and wore for the first time their new +badges, tiny gold and silver clasp-pins, in the +form of shields crossed by swords and bearing +the motto “Caritas et Veritas.” On that day +of triumph Jean won both the English and the +Latin prizes, but there was a cloud upon her +happiness, for still no word had come from +Brazil. +</p> + +<p> +The play of Romeo and Juliet, given by the +older girls, brought the Commencement festivities +<a id="page-71" class="pagenum" title="71"></a> +to a close. Eunice was the golden-haired +Juliet of the evening, and Carol, in cloak and +tunic of deep red velvet, was the dashing +Romeo. The play over, the actors reappeared +on the stage to bow to the audience and to receive +their bouquets. Jean brought Romeo a +bunch of Jacqueminot roses as a love-token, +and what was her astonishment when he +dropped on one knee before her, and, doffing his +plumed cap to the ground, presented his sword, +on the point of which he had just placed a bouquet +of pink sweet peas and—a <em>cablegram</em>! +The message was from her father and said, +“Jean may go to camp.” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-8"> +<a id="page-72" class="pagenum" title="72"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER VI.</span><br> +CAMP HUAIRARWEE +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">E</span><span class="postfirstchar">arly</span> one bright, fresh morning, a fortnight +after Commencement, the Albany +station was invaded by a troop of girls, laden +with a variety of outing gear. Nancy Newcomb +and Helen Westover, who headed the +band, carried bundles of fishing rods. Marion +Gaylord was armed with a canoe-paddle, and +Eunice had a field-glass slung over her shoulder. +Hope Lamont, Ruth Whitney, Dorothy +Stone and Olive Spencer carried kodaks. +Gladys Pearson, Winifred Russell and Ethel +Merryman had caddy bags. Katrina Van Horn +and Louise Phillips each had a guide-basket, +and Grace Gardner, Pamela Kirkland, Betty +and Jean swung tennis rackets. As for Carol, +she had evidently taken up the professions of +troubadour and musketeer, for in one hand she +bore a mandolin case and in the other a rifle. +She seemed to be acting as body-guard to little +Fräulein Bunsen, who, with Miss Hamersley, +had brought the merry maidens by the night +boat from New York. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-73" class="pagenum" title="73"></a> +Five minutes later another traveler entered +the station, a little gipsy in a jaunty suit, followed +by a dignified looking gentleman, no +doubt her father. +</p> + +<p> +“Frisky!” “Frances!” Betty and Jean +rushed to meet the newcomer. +</p> + +<p> +“Ach, but we shall have a summer of pranks, +if the little Mouse is to go to camp!” exclaimed +Fräulein Bunsen in some dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I fire?” Carol demanded. “We’d +better nip her pranks in the bud.” +</p> + +<p> +Frances dashed straight for the girls and +proclaimed triumphantly, “I’m going to camp! +It’s because of the whooping-cough!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious, child! Go away from <em>me</em>, +then!” cried Nancy, and there was a general +backing away from the Mouse. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh. I’m not catching!” said Frances. “I +was away visiting when my small brother came +down with it, and I can’t go home for fear I’ll +get it. So Daddy telegraphed to Mrs. Brook, +and I’m going with you! Isn’t it too jolly! +My! but I had to scramble to get off! Dick +only began to whoop day before yesterday. +Wasn’t he a lamb to catch it? Oh, isn’t it +splendid I can go!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly fine, Mousie!” said Jean. “It’ll +be stacks of fun to have you! Now there’ll be +four of us battle maids together all summer.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes more and they were all in the +<a id="page-74" class="pagenum" title="74"></a> +parlor-car, rolling out of the station on their +way to the Adirondacks. They left the train in +the cool of the afternoon, and the mountain-wagons +sent to meet them carried them miles +away from the railroad to the shores of Halcyon. +It was in the rosy light of sunset that +they had their first glimpse of the beautiful +lake, with its fringe of woods and its encircling +hills. But it was only a glimpse, for the next +moment they turned into the darkness of the +forest road again. +</p> + +<p> +“Carolie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madam!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m thinking up a poem about the lake,” +said Jean, “and I want to know if it sounds +right.” And she recited softly to her confidant: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">Light-winged clouds in the blue arch o’er us,</p> + <p class="verse">Mirrored in sapphire depths below;</p> + <p class="verse">Yonder forest-crowned isle before us,—</p> + <p class="verse">Merrily over the lake we go!</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“That’s a darling verse,” said Carol. “I +thought genius must be burning, you kept so +quiet.” Encouraged by this, Jean went on: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">A fire-opal, the lake at sundown,</p> + <p class="verse">Wrapped round by velvety sable firs.</p> + <p class="verse">Fleet-footed fawns the hillsides run down,</p> + <p class="verse">To drink of the water that no wave stirs.</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-75" class="pagenum" title="75"></a> +“Magnificent, Jean! But why don’t you +make it gray squirrel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gray squirrel?” Jean repeated, wonderingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you dressed your lake up in sable fur, +didn’t you? And I thought gray squirrel +wouldn’t be so extravagant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carolie! how hateful of you! Oh, pshaw! +it <em>does</em> sound as if my lake had a muff and a +boa! I’ll have to fix it. You don’t mind ‘<em>run +down</em>,’ do you? I do. I hate it, but I had +to get something to rhyme with <em>sundown</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I like ‘<em>run down</em>,’” said Carol. “It +shows the fawns were athletic.” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t make fun of it! It’s terrific, +trying to make poetry when you’re going jigglety-bounce +every minute,” said Jean. “Wait +a minute! Let me think.” A pause, and then, +“How’s this?” she asked: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“A fire-opal the lake is gleaming,</p> + <p class="verse">Lit with flame from the golden skies.</p> + <p class="verse">It burns while nature is hushed and dreaming,</p> + <p class="verse">This gem that deep in the forest lies.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Carol considered that this might be handed +down in American literature, but before Jean +could introduce the fawns gracefully there came +a surprise that sent rhyming out of her head. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a light shone out in the gloom; a +<a id="page-76" class="pagenum" title="76"></a> +sharp bark was heard, and a large dog bounded +into the road and rushed almost under the +wheels of the first wagon. +</p> + +<p> +“Rod! Rod! come here!” called a familiar +voice, and the leading carriage-load saw standing +at the side of the way a girl in white holding +a lantern. +</p> + +<p> +“Cecily! Cecily!” chorused six glad voices. +There was a medley of happy greetings, and before +the horses could stop Jean had made a +daring spring from one side and Frances from +the other. The next minute Betty, Carol, Eunice +and Nancy were with them; Cecily was +flying from one to another, and the whole seven +were laughing and talking at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Roderick Dhu and I have been waiting perfect +ages! I thought you’d never come! Oh, +it’s so lovely to have you here!” cried Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s so lovely to <em>be</em> here!” returned Jean. +“You darling, beautiful old doggy! Stay still +and let me pet you!” And she went down on +her knees to fondle the shaggy collie. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I’m going to take you up through the +labyrinth,” said Cecily, when the other divisions +of the party had joined them, and she had +welcomed every one. “The carriages have to +go way around and you’d be joggled all to +pieces. Roderick, old boy! lead the way!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the labyrinth?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the foot-path up to camp. We call it +<a id="page-77" class="pagenum" title="77"></a> +that because the trail winds and winds all sorts +of ways and tangles you all up,” Cecily explained. +She parted the overhanging boughs +by the wayside, and disclosed a path leading, +so it seemed, into the very heart of the forest. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how good the woods smell! Isn’t it +delicious!” The girls sniffed and drew deep +breaths as they set out on the trail. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just like going through a tunnel! I +love the labyrinth!” said Jean, delighted with +the winding, perplexing path. +</p> + +<p> +“But where <em>is</em> the lake?” asked Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“And where’s the camp?” asked Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Just a little way ahead,” said Cecily, flitting +on like a will-o’-the-wisp with her lantern, +“but if I ran away from you, you wouldn’t +find your way if you tried all night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where <em>are</em> we? Where <em>are</em> we?” cried +girl after girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Where <em>are</em> we?” mimicked Cecily. “That’s +what everybody always says. We’ll come out +on Camp Hide-and-Seek in just a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that its name?” asked Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“I call it that,” said Cecily. “It’s real +name is not a bit appropriate now,—‘Black +Bear Camp!’ The boys we had here named it +that because once a bear really did come into +our woods, but we’ve never seen one from that +day to this. I wish somebody would think up +a new name.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-78" class="pagenum" title="78"></a> +“Call it ‘Camp Where-are-we,’ if that’s +what everybody says,” Carol suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just the thing!” cried Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“And spell it some crazy way,” proposed +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +The new name met with general approbation, +and by the time that it had been decided to +spell it “Huairarwee,” the trail ended. The +girls stepped out of the thick woods and found +themselves in a grove of birches on a little +bluff above the lake. A camp-fire was blazing +on a great rock and in its light they saw a line +of white tents, a bungalow built of logs, and, +below, a rustic boat-house and a dock. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother! Mo-ther! Here we are!” sang +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome to camp!” answered a clear, +sweet voice, and Mrs. Brook came out of the +bungalow and gave the girls a motherly +greeting. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and have a peep at the tents,” said +she, “and then we’ll have supper. It’s just +ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it fun!” said Cecily. “We’re to +sleep three or four in a tent!” +</p> + +<p> +There were eight tents, built on platforms +well raised above the ground, and connected +by a narrow veranda. The furniture consisted +of cots and camp-stools, and chintz-covered +boxes for wash-stands and dressing-tables. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-79" class="pagenum" title="79"></a> +“Cecily has planned out just how you girls +are to sleep,” said Mrs. Brook. “She says +Miss Armstrong and Miss Stanley and Miss +Newcomb are inseparable friends, so we’ll put +them together in this first tent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jolly!” said Carol. “But please, Mrs. +Brook, don’t ‘<em>Miss</em>’ us,—except when we’re +away.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, please call us by our first names. We +want to be your summer daughters,” said +Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“And so you shall be,—all of you,” answered +Mrs. Brook heartily. +</p> + +<p> +She had not forgotten her own girlhood, and +was ready with quick sympathy to win the love +and confidence of her young guests. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll let you call her Motherling,” said +Cecily. “It’s my pet name for her.” And +Mrs. Brook was adopted as mother by the +whole camp. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for the four maids of the ‘Silver +Sword,’” said she, when Carol, Eunice, and +Nancy had taken possession of their tent. +“I’m going to put you next door.” She led +the way to the second tent in which were four +cozy cots. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly had the travelers been installed in +their tents when a horn sounded, calling them +to supper in the bungalow. Japanese lanterns, +hanging from the stag’s head over the door, +<a id="page-80" class="pagenum" title="80"></a> +shed a soft light over the bungalow veranda, +and a brighter glow welcomed the girls as they +entered the “living-room” where a magnificent +fire of spruce-logs leaped up the rough +brick chimney. They found themselves in +what might have been the interior of a hunter’s +lodge. Antlers and deers’ heads adorned the +walls here and there, fox skins and a bearskin +lay on the floor, and in one corner a +stuffed raccoon glared at the company with +his yellow glass eyes. Weather-stained fence-boards, +beautiful with silvery lichen, formed +the mantel-shelves, which were decorated with +bright-colored fungi and balloon-like hornets’ +nests, a stuffed blue heron, with wings outspread, +presiding over the whole. The living-room +was parlor and dining-room combined, +and there stood the table decked with ferns, +and beside it a pretty, dark-eyed French-Canadian +waitress smiling hospitably on the +guests. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing had ever tasted so good as that delicious +supper of broiled chicken, waffles, crisp +lettuce, and strawberries and cream; and it was +followed by an enchanting twilight hour down +by the water’s edge. The girls gathered +around “Camp-fire Rock” and fed their cheery +blaze with logs, a cloud of golden sparks +shooting up whenever they threw on more fuel. +The lake grew black; the stars came out to +<a id="page-81" class="pagenum" title="81"></a> +laugh with the laughing group below; the weird +cry of a hoot-owl kept piercing the evening +hush. A sense of possession thrilled the girls. +This camp was theirs, the lake was theirs, those +dark, mysterious woods were theirs; they were +far away from the outer world, hidden in their +own forest fairy-land. +</p> + +<p> +Drowsiness came at length, and drove the +campers back to their tents, and the last murmurs +of conversation and the last sparks of the +fire on the rock died out at about the same time. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it too perfect for anything to sleep +in a tent, just like soldiers!” said Jean from +her cot. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just the thing for battle maids!” said +Cecily. “Oh, dear! Mammykins said we mustn’t +stay awake talking!” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, good-night!” cried sleepy +Frances. “Larks to-morrow, girls!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” said Betty, yawning. “Oh, +Cece, just tell me,—<em>Halcyon</em>’s Indian, isn’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am! It’s poetical for kingfisher. +There are lots of kingfishers here,” answered +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“And ‘halcyon days’ means happy days, +doesn’t it?” said Jean, “and this is just the +happiest, loveliest place in the world!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the right place to live,” said Cecily. +“You’ll be as roly-poly as Betty before you +<a id="page-82" class="pagenum" title="82"></a> +go home! But you’re looking perfectly fine, +now! Do you know you’re getting real +pretty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty!” Jean repeated in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed you are,” said the young +artist. “You have such a dear little color in +your cheeks! It’s ever so becoming. That +two weeks with Carol did you ever so much +good.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had such a splendid time! The Armstrongs +are just too dear,—and Carolie’s the +dearest of all!” said Jean, whom her Big +Sister had once more rescued from a visit to +Aunt Lucretia Pyncheon. Cecily’s compliment +put the climax to her felicity, and murmuring +drowsily, “Oh, I’m so happy!” Jean +lay with the cool sweet air touching her forehead +with a good-night kiss. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-9"> +<a id="page-83" class="pagenum" title="83"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER VII.</span><br> +HOW THE QUEEN SAVED A HALCYON’S LIFE +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">A</span> glorious mountain day, clear as crystal, +breezy and cool, greeted the girls as +they stepped out of their tents next morning. +After the merry breakfast in the bungalow, +Frances and Betty seized their rackets and +joined Pamela Kirkland and Grace Gardner in +a game of tennis on the court which Cecily said +that her cousins, the Hamiltons, had laid out +for the campers. Most of the older girls +turned to their unpacking as a tiresome business +to be rushed through as early as possible; +but the spell of the woods and water was on +Carol and she sallied forth leaving her trunk to +be emptied at a more convenient season. She +found Jean sitting on the veranda with only +Roderick Dhu for company: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter, Jeanie?” she asked. +“Have your friends forsaken you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m waiting for Cece to get through +helping her mother, but she’s so busy I don’t +believe she’ll be ready till dinner-time!” said +Jean. “What are you going to do, Carolie?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-84" class="pagenum" title="84"></a> +“I’m going to steal a canoe and explore the +lake. I can’t stay on shore a minute longer,” +answered Carol. “I’ll take you aboard if +you’ll promise to obey the captain’s orders.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean was up in a flash. “Oh, Carolie, teach +me to paddle!” she begged. “I’m dying to +learn!” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, but I’ll have to teach you to stay +still in a canoe first, Miss Perpetual Motion, +and when you’ve learned <em>that</em>, I’ll teach you +the stroke.” +</p> + +<p> +They helped themselves to paddles from the +boat-house. Carol chose a gaily painted canoe +and settled Jean in it luxuriously on the scarlet +cushions; then she took her place in the stern, +and by her vigorous strokes sent the little +craft shooting away up the lake, over wavelets +that flashed with myriad suns and rocked them +delightfully. Jean had never been in a canoe +before, and this swift gliding and gentle +rocking seemed the very poetry of motion. +</p> + +<p> +Camp Huairarwee stood in one of the loveliest +spots on the whole lake, for there the +broad sheet of water bowed out into a great +emerald bay set in a border of white and +golden birches, spicy balsams, and towering +pines. Passing out of this wide basin the explorers +discovered miniature capes and inviting +little coves, and found fresh beauty at +every turn. +</p> + +<div class="centerpic" id="img-i_084"> +<img src="images/i_084.jpg" alt=""> +<p class="cap"> +CAMP HUAIRARWEE. +</p> + +</div> + +<p> +<a id="page-85" class="pagenum" title="85"></a> +“Let me paddle now!” Jean coaxed, when +lying at ease in the canoe had lost the charm +of novelty. “I’ve learned to sit still, I’m +sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think I could trust you to sit still +even if a sea-serpent bobbed up,” said Carol. +“Wait, and I’ll paddle in toward shore; it’s +too rough out here.” They were abreast of a +point of land and, as they left it behind them, +she swung the canoe around to enter the bay +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, look!” cried Jean. “There’s a boy +standing up in a canoe! Won’t he go over?” +Just ahead of them they saw a boy standing in +his canoe, balancing himself easily in spite of +the wind-whipped water. +</p> + +<p> +The lad looked about fifteen or sixteen. He +was tall and slight, fair-haired, but with arms +as brown as an Indian’s. They passed his +canoe within a few paddles’ lengths, and the +girls saw a well-bronzed face, bright and frank +and keen. +</p> + +<p> +Carol and Jean glided into the little bay. +The boy sat down in his canoe and let it drift. +As they neared the beach, they saw a kingfisher +rise and fly chattering away. The lad saw it +too. He picked up a rifle from the bottom of +his canoe and took aim. His action was quick, +the “halcyon’s” flight was quick, and Jean’s +righteous indignation was quick. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-86" class="pagenum" title="86"></a> +“Don’t shoot that bird!” she screamed, and +started as she screamed. Just what else she +did she could never afterward explain, but the +next instant she and Carol took an unpremeditated +dive! Over went the canoe, and into +the cold water they plunged and made sudden +acquaintance with the bottom of the lake. +Happily they were within their depth, and +though the water closed over their heads it was +only for a moment. Carol clutched Jean and +tried to drag her up. Jean clutched Carol and +in the shock and fright pulled her under again. +But they managed to struggle to their feet, +gasping, choking, coughing, spluttering. Their +heads were out of water, but Jean had to +stand on tiptoe to keep her chin above the +surface. She could hardly have held herself +up but for Carol’s arm supporting her, and +she clung to her friend’s neck, making it impossible +for her to move. But the boy who had +started the mischief came to their relief with +lightning speed. +</p> + +<p> +“Catch hold!” he cried, bringing the bow +of his canoe up to them. They caught it and +raised themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on tight!” he commanded, and Jean +clung fast. +</p> + +<p> +Carol, now free, struck out for herself, and +swam and waded ashore, and the young rescuer +paddled with all his strength, and brought Jean +<a id="page-87" class="pagenum" title="87"></a> +safely to the strip of beach. He jumped out +and stood watching the girls anxiously as they +wrung out their skirts and regained their +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Get our canoe—quick!” panted Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right! I’m an old duffer!” said +the boy, recalled to his duty. Satisfied that the +shipwrecked mariners did not require artificial +respiration, he reembarked and brought back +their canoe, with the paddles and cushions +which had gone floating up the lake. +</p> + +<p> +“I d-d-d-didn’t know the w-w-w-water was +s-s-so cold!” said Jean through chattering +teeth. “H-h-how did it happen, anyway?” +</p> + +<p> +“You took a flying leap, you crazy! Whatever +possessed you?” returned Carol wrathfully. +“A little farther out and we’d both +have been drowned, with you pulling me +down!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was all <em>my</em> fault,” said the boy penitently. +“I’m awfully sorry!” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have to go right straight back or +we’ll catch our deaths,” said Carol, shivering. +</p> + +<p> +“You get into my canoe and let me paddle +you back. We’ll tow yours,” the lad proposed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you ever so much!” replied +Carol. “But it would be too bad to trouble +you. We can go back alone perfectly well. +We’re at Mrs. Brook’s camp. That isn’t far. +<a id="page-88" class="pagenum" title="88"></a> +You’re not Dr. Hamilton’s son, Mrs. Brook’s +nephew, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I know the Hamiltons,” he answered, +with a bright, winning smile. “Look +here! Let me take you there,—it’s just round +that first point, and Mrs. Hamilton and Miss +Rose will give you some dry things. Won’t +you please? You’d better. That’s where I +was just going, myself. We’ll have the wind +with us, and so you won’t get so chilled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,—I believe that’s the best +thing to do,” said Carol. “They’ll think +we’re mermaids gone insane, but I can’t help +it! We’ll freeze if we try to go all the way +back!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you mustn’t think of it! You’d be +icicles by the time you got back,” said the boy, +and he tied the girls’ canoe to his. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t care! I’m glad I stopped +you from shooting that poor bird, even if I did +upset the canoe!” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I wasn’t really going to shoot,” he +answered, with laughter in his gray eyes. +“My rifle wasn’t even loaded.” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>Wasn’t</em> it?” gasped Jean, and felt desperately +foolish. +</p> + +<p> +“There,—Queen of the Silver Sword!” +laughed Carol. “You <em>have</em> begun the summer +with a valorous deed!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was only fooling. I’m awfully sorry I +<a id="page-89" class="pagenum" title="89"></a> +scared you!” the owner of the rifle apologized. +Anxious to make amends, he helped +the girls into his canoe and paddled hastily +farther up the lake toward the Hamiltons’ +camp. +</p> + +<p> +“We forgot all about thanking you for +saving us,” said Carol. “But we <em>do</em> thank +you ever and ever so much. I don’t know what +we should have done without you!” +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t have capsized without me!” +he replied with a chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, we would; she’d have jumped +overboard for something else! Wouldn’t you, +Queenie?” said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t think I did anything,” poor +Jean protested. “I just called out, and the +canoe went over.” And she did not know +whether to enjoy the thrill of adventure or be +wretched with cold and mortification. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! My beautiful new hair-ribbons!” +she wailed, as she pulled off two dripping +wet strings,—a few minutes before, broad +satin bows. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my poor wig! it feels just like seaweed!” +moaned Carol, wringing out her sopping +curly mop. +</p> + +<p> +“Oo-ooh! I’m so cold!” Jean complained. +“Why are you so much colder when you go in +all dressed than when you’re in your bathing-suit?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-90" class="pagenum" title="90"></a> +“Maybe because it’s so unexpected,” replied +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you suppose they’ll say when we +get back?” asked Jean, with countenance +forlorn. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean, let’s not borrow trouble!” sighed +Carol. But their thoughts were soon diverted +from the melancholy future. +</p> + +<p> +Passing the next point, they saw on a breezy +elevation—a tent with a flag flying above it, +and a bungalow. “There’s the Hamiltons’ +camp,” said the boy. “They call it Camp +Hurricane.” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-10"> +<a id="page-91" class="pagenum" title="91"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER VIII.</span><br> +DOUGLAS GORDON +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">C</span><span class="postfirstchar">arol</span> and Jean almost forgot their +drenched plight in the interest of seeing +Camp Hurricane, as the boy who had rescued +them headed the canoe for the Hamiltons’ +landing. Kneeling on the dock was a lad, +whom they guessed to be Jack Hamilton, busy +giving an overturned skiff a fresh coat of blue +paint. Jack’s father, they knew, was a clergyman; +and high up the slope, above a dot of a +bungalow, they saw the tiny chapel where +Cecily had told them that her uncle held service +during the summer. In contrast to the chapel +the white tent near by, with “Old Glory” flying +over it, lent a military air to the place, and it +looked as if a cavalry manoeuver were going on +in the clearing fenced off from the rest of the +grounds. Trotting briskly down the enclosure +came a fine black horse, a tall young +fellow holding his halter and running beside the +spirited creature. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a beauty!” exclaimed Jean. +Then she gave a cry of delight, for, grasping +<a id="page-92" class="pagenum" title="92"></a> +the horse’s mane, the athletic six-footer had +vaulted lightly onto his back. +</p> + +<p> +“He must belong to a cavalry troop—or a +circus!” cried Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d think so, to see him!” said their +new friend. “There isn’t anything he can’t +do with horses! He broke Cyclone, himself. +That’s Court,” he added. “He’s the older +son. He’s a senior at Yale.” Then he called +to the boat-painter, “Hello, Jack!” +</p> + +<p> +The boy turned, saw the canoe-load, and +sprang to his feet. “Hello, Douglas!” he +called back. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, Jack, these young ladies have been +capsized, and they’ve got to get some dry +things. Can your mother help them out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely! Come right up,” said Jack cordially. +He was a sturdy fellow about fifteen, +with a pleasant, sunburned face. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re from Mrs. Brook’s camp, and +we’ve had the most ridiculous upset,” laughed +Carol, as the canoe touched the dock. “But +we hate to trouble Mrs. Hamilton. If she +could let us have some wraps—we’re slightly +cool!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mother’ll fix you up—she loves to take +care of people!” Jack hauled in the canoe. +“Say, Court!” he shouted, “here’s a ducking +accident!” +</p> + +<p> +His brother, now riding Black Cyclone bareback, +<a id="page-93" class="pagenum" title="93"></a> +had caught a glimpse of the visitors, and +had already slackened his pace. At Jack’s call +he dismounted, knotted the halter-rope around +the horse’s neck, turned him loose, and jumped +the fence. Without stopping, he snatched up +his coat which lay on the grass, and came down +to the dock at a double quick, slipping on the +coat as he ran, preceded by a rough Irish +terrier and an extremely loose-jointed and +clumsy St. Bernard puppy, both dogs barking a +turbulent welcome. He collared the obstreperous +puppy, as he joined the girls, while Jack +arrested the terrier. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Have +you had a spill?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think we had!” said Carol. “But +we’ve been heroically rescued and our rescuer +insisted on bringing us in here.” +</p> + +<p> +“He brought you to the right port,” said +Court heartily. “I’m sorry you’ve had an +upset, but I’m glad you came straight to us. +Come up to the bungalow. Are you staying +with the Brooks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we are,” answered Carol, “and so, as +we’ve succeeded in almost drowning ourselves +by way of celebrating our first day here, we +thought the Hamiltons might take pity on us.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Hamiltons are delighted to. We’re a +regular Red Cross hospital. Go ahead, Jack, +and tell Mother to get ready for us.” Jack +<a id="page-94" class="pagenum" title="94"></a> +ran on and his brother escorted the girls up +the long steep slope. +</p> + +<p> +“That darling horse,—just see him!” cried +Jean. “He looks as if he wanted to jump the +fence and come to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“He tries to squeeze into the bungalow sometimes. +He follows me around like a dog,” said +Court. “I must apologize for the hurricane-like +way I came down to you just now,” he +added with a laugh. “I’m afraid you thought +there was a Wild West show going on up +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we enjoyed it immensely,” said Carol. +“I never saw any one but a cavalryman mount +the way you did!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was just having a little fun with Cyclone,” +said the young man modestly. “I +broke him last summer, and he’s having a post-graduate +course this year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he named Cyclone because he lives at +Hurricane?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. We’ve had him since he was a +colt,—he’s a three-year-old. He came from a +stock farm up here—the owner’s a grouchy old +chap, but Father won his heart going to see +him when he had a close call from pneumonia +once, and he gave us one of his colts in return.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s perfectly magnificent!” exclaimed +Carol enthusiastically. “You’ll have to introduce +<a id="page-95" class="pagenum" title="95"></a> +him to us before we go home. We love +horses, don’t we, Jean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed,—and dogs, too,” said Jean, +who was petting the puppy and the terrier by +turns. “What are the dogs named?” +</p> + +<p> +“This one’s Blarney,” said Court. “He’s +a paddy, and he knows how to blarney, too, +when he has a point to gain. And we call that +fellow Blunder, because he’s constantly mistaking +our best shoes for dog-biscuit.” +</p> + +<p> +They had nearly reached the bungalow; beyond +it was the chapel, and they saw a sunny-haired +young girl mounted on a ladder, training +honeysuckle vines to clamber around its +one stained-glass window. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s my sister Rose,” said Court. +“Rose, come here!” +</p> + +<p> +Rose turned her head, and seeing visitors, +descended nimbly and hurried to meet them. +“Why, what <em>has</em> happened? You’ve been upset!” +was her greeting. “Come right indoors +and get warm. I’m so glad we have a fire +going!” +</p> + +<p> +Just then a motherly-looking lady stepped +out of the bungalow. “You poor drowned +children!” she exclaimed. “Come in and let +me take care of you.” She gave a hand to +each bedraggled guest, and Carol and Jean +found themselves whisked into her bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-96" class="pagenum" title="96"></a> +“It’s ever so good of you to take us in,” +said Carol. “It’s perfectly disgraceful,—two +saturated solutions of us coming down on you +like this! Please don’t think it’s a sample of +the way we’re going to behave this summer!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know what girls are; they’re as hard +to take care of as boys,” said Mrs. Hamilton, +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Before long Rose had fitted both girls out +with dresses of her own, and the shipwrecked +maidens were sipping hot lemonade and +toasting themselves before the blazing pine +knots in the bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +When they came out again they found Court +waiting to introduce them to Cyclone. The +black horse was really a splendid creature. +He was full of spirit and fire, but he condescended +to show himself as gentle as a zephyr +to the two girls who stroked his velvet nose, +and held his right fore-hoof when at his +master’s word he offered to “shake hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Next Dr. Hamilton came out of his chapel +to greet the visitors. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad to welcome some of my sister’s +guests so early,” said he. “You had a narrow +escape, didn’t you? but I’m glad to see you +don’t look any the worse for it. Come in and +see my little church.” +</p> + +<p> +He led them into the tiny building, which +might have been the chapel of the hunter-hermit, +<a id="page-97" class="pagenum" title="97"></a> +Saint Hubert, himself. But in striking +contrast to the bare boards of the walls and +floor was its beautiful stained-glass window. +It showed a young crusader with the red +cross on his shield and his sword unsheathed in +his hand. He was gazing upward at a beam of +pearly light breaking through the clouds, and +his face was bright with a look of victory. +The morning sun poured through the window, +the pearly beam was dazzling, the cross shone +ruby red, and the sword gleamed with an almost +blinding light. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s finished his fighting, and has conquered, +and now he’s going to get his crown—I +think he sees it in the heavenly light up +there,” thought Jean, and Dr. Hamilton noticed +her earnest face. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a memorial to Cecily’s father,” he +said. “Cecily puts fresh flowers in front of it +every Sunday.” He told her a little about the +noble life of the man in whose memory the +crusader shone there, and he glanced from the +sword in the window to the silver one on Jean’s +badge. “You and Cecily each wear a sword, +too, don’t you?” said he. “The sword Caritas +on the shield Veritas. I’m sure <em>you</em>’re each +going to fight a good fight with that sword and +shield, too, and win the victory just as that +young crusader has won.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean was too shy to do more than murmur a +<a id="page-98" class="pagenum" title="98"></a> +bashful, “I hope so,” but the crusader with +his shining sword had spoken his message, +“Go forward,” and the young queen turned +away, carrying his memory in her heart. +</p> + +<p> +It was now high time for the runaways to +go home, and they went down to the dock where +Douglas and Jack were waiting. Court +claimed the privilege of paddling both girls +back to the camp, but he was obliged to share +the honor. +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas,” said Dr. Hamilton, “we’ll postpone +your lessons and let you take Miss Lennox +home in your canoe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Doctor,” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you afraid I’ll upset you?” asked +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“No, because I sha’n’t scare you any more,” +replied the boy. “I’m going to leave my rifle +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas wants me to keep it for him,” said +Jack. “He says Tony Harrel hooks it when +he’s out of the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tony’s breaking the game laws, is he?” +said his father. “He’ll get himself into +trouble. See that the law doesn’t get interested +in <em>you</em>, Jack!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your name’s Douglas, isn’t it? What’s +your last name?” asked Jean shyly as, the +good-byes over, they glided away from the +landing. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-99" class="pagenum" title="99"></a> +“Gordon,” the boy answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas Gordon! My, but that sounds +Scotchy! Are you Scotch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Father was.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father’s Scotch too, and my name’s +<em>very</em> Scotch—Jean Lennox.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s pretty,” said Douglas. “You’re +from New York, aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Guess where my home is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Scotland?” Douglas suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“England? or Ireland?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed! I’m American.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dawson City, Alaska?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think not! You didn’t ask <em>which</em> +America I live in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you don’t mean you’re from <em>South</em> +America?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do,” laughed Jean. “My home’s in +Rio Janeiro, just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Great Cæsar! Brazil!” Douglas looked +at her with reverence. +</p> + +<p> +“But I had to come back to the United +States to boarding-school,” Jean explained. +“Where do you live?” +</p> + +<p> +“Over here, this summer. I used to live at +Algonquin, about twenty miles from here. +I’ve lived up in the Adirondacks since I was a +little chap.” +</p> + +<p> +“How old are you now?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-100" class="pagenum" title="100"></a> +“Fifteen. How old are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fourteen. I’ll be fifteen next October. +Father’ll be home in time for my birthday. +He’s coming to New York on business.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be sixteen next Christmas,” said +Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Does your birthday come on Christmas?” +cried Jean. “What fun! You ought to get +double presents.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father died <em>last</em> Christmas,” said +Douglas quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>Died</em> on <em>Christmas</em>! Your <em>father</em>—and it +was your birthday!” Jean’s great blue eyes +grew dark with distress, and the sympathy in +her face stirred the boy to confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“It was pneumonia,” he said. “He was +taken sick while I was away at boarding-school, +and I couldn’t get home till just two days before +he died. And he didn’t know me—he +was out of his head all the time. Only Christmas +Day he knew me just a few minutes, and +then—he died. He bought that rifle for me for +Christmas,” he added. “He talked about it +while he was out of his head. Dad and I were +great old chums!” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas plunged his paddle into the water +and worked with all his strength. Jean +watched him sorrowfully, wishing she knew +what to say to comfort him, and wondered if he +were an only child like herself. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-101" class="pagenum" title="101"></a> +“Have you any brothers and sisters?” she +asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No—haven’t anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! You don’t mean your mother’s +dead too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I can hardly remember her. She died +before we left the city. Father was a doctor +and we used to live in New York, but he came +down with lung trouble and had to give up his +practice there and come up to the mountains.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’re not all alone, are you?” asked +Jean. “Haven’t you a grandfather or an +uncle—or anybody?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m all alone in the world. I’m striking +out for myself now. I had to go to work +after Father died—that’s why I’m over here. +I thought I could get some work at one of the +camps. I did, too. I’ve been working for the +Clintons at Big Pine Camp, while their man +was laid up. I want to earn enough in the +summers to pay my board through the winters, +and then I can go to High School in Albany.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Douglas, I think that’s perfectly fine +of you, to go to work like that! You’re really +seeking your fortune, aren’t you?” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s about the size of it,” Douglas +agreed. “After I’ve been through High +School, if I can scrape up the tin, I want to +study engineering and go out West as a mining +engineer.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-102" class="pagenum" title="102"></a> +“Isn’t Dr. Hamilton giving you lessons?” +asked Jean. “I heard him saying something +about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I lost the whole of last term at school, +and he’s coaching me so I can make up what +I’ve missed. Tell you what, he’s been good to +me!” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’re working at a camp too,” said +Jean. “My, but you must be busy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ve lost my place at the Clintons’. +Their man came back yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“How mean of him! What are you going to +do now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know yet. Dr. Hamilton spoke for +me up at the Inn, but they told me to-day they +didn’t want me.” +</p> + +<p> +A bright, eager look come into Jean’s face. +“Here’s a chance to use my Silver Sword!” +thought she. “I know!” she said. “Mrs. +Brook says we have to have a boatman for our +camp. The man she engaged disappointed. +I’m going to ask her to engage <em>you</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you!” Douglas stopped paddling +in his surprise. “That would be fine! +But I don’t believe she’ll take me. She’ll +want a <em>man</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, she won’t!” said Jean confidently. +“It’s only to take us out on the lake and look +after the boats.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I ought to know something about +<a id="page-103" class="pagenum" title="103"></a> +boats,” said Douglas. “I was brought up on +a lake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that your canoe?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“It was till a few minutes ago. I brought it +over from Algonquin to sell, and I’ve just sold +it to Court Hamilton. I’ll never sell my rifle +though!” +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas, who’s Tony Harrel, that Jack +said kept hooking your rifle?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s old George Harrel’s son. I’m boarding +with them. Poor old Tony, he’ll be quite +cut up when he finds my rifle’s gone for keeps!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it was horrid of him to take it,” said +Jean. “Dr. Hamilton said he was breaking the +game laws. What did he mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Killing game out of season. But please +don’t say anything about it, will you? I don’t +want to get him into trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, I won’t,” Jean promised, and she +had forgotten Tony Harrel long before they +reached the Huairarwee dock. +</p> + +<p> +The canoes having put into port, Douglas +took his leave and paddled back to his lessons. +The girls and Court went up the bank together, +and the runaways found that the moment of +confession could no longer be delayed, for there +were Mrs. Brook and Fräulein Bunsen on the +tent veranda. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are, Auntie! I’ve brought them +back safe!” called out Court. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-104" class="pagenum" title="104"></a> +“Why, girls! What does this mean? What +<em>have</em> you got on? And how in the world have +you and my nephew become acquainted already?” +exclaimed Mrs. Brook. +</p> + +<p> +“Meine kinder, at last you come back!” cried +Fräulein. “I look for you all over! De girls +haff gone to valk, dey could not vait for you. +Where <em>haff</em> you been?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve been to the bottom of the lake,” said +Carol. “Bunnie, dearest, don’t scold us! +Cherish us. We might have been swept away +from you forever under those seething billows! +Mrs. Brook, <em>will</em> you forgive us for playing +hooky, and not send us back to-morrow? It +was all my fault—I led Jean into the scrape. +I ought to have known better.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it wasn’t her fault one bit,—it was +mine! I upset the canoe,” Jean interrupted, +and together the delinquents recounted their +adventures. +</p> + +<p> +The camp-mother laughed merrily, but she +threatened to lay down stringent rules on the +subject of canoeing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come now, Auntie!” Court put in coaxingly, +“don’t make your camp unpopular. +Miss Armstrong’s equal to shooting rapids,—I +know she is! If you won’t enact any painful +laws, I’ll lend you the canoe I’ve just bought.” +</p> + +<p> +“Court Hamilton! what are you buying another +canoe for?” cried Mrs. Brook. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-105" class="pagenum" title="105"></a> +“Oh, well, Douglas Gordon wanted to sell his, +and I thought I’d like to help him out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Court! Court!” said his aunt, laughing, +“You’ll be bankrupt as usual before the end of +the summer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry about me, Auntie,—the legacy’s +sure,” said Court. +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever Court’s been seized with a fit of +charitable mania and given away everything he +possesses, it always turns out that his great-aunt, +Miss Van Courtlandt, is about to make +him her heir,” explained Mrs. Brook. “She’s +a very convenient excuse, Court, but you’d better +be careful how you talk about her. She’s a +very old lady and she may die suddenly and +really leave you a legacy, and then think how +conscience-stricken you’ll feel!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll feel worse if she doesn’t leave me +one,” replied Miss Van Courtlandt’s saucy +young namesake. +</p> + +<p> +Jean looked up at the frank, manly face and +the merry blue eyes, and felt that here was a +kindred spirit. Now was a propitious time to +plead for her new friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Brook, can’t you take Douglas Gordon +for your boatman?” she suddenly demanded. +“He’s an orphan and his father died +last Christmas, and he hasn’t any home, and +he has to earn money so he can go to school +and be an engineer and go out West, and he’s +<a id="page-106" class="pagenum" title="106"></a> +lost his place, and he knows all about boats,—and +<em>won’t</em> you please take him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor boy!” said Mrs. Brook, “my brother +has told me about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mrs. Brook, <em>couldn’t</em> you take him?” +pleaded Carol. “Mr. Hamilton says he’s such +a nice boy!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you <em>would</em> take him, Auntie,” said +Court. “I’m sure he’s all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“My heart does go out to the poor boy,” said +Mrs. Brook. “And I don’t know of any one +else to hire. But I should have to have a talk +with your father first.” +</p> + +<p> +It began to look as if Caritas would win. +The walking-party soon returned, and the other +battle maids ardently took up the cause of +Douglas Gordon; and when Jack came in bringing +the mail, he gave his friend an enthusiastic +recommendation. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, boys and girls,” said Mrs. Brook, before +the brothers went home, “I wish one thing +to be understood. We are all one big family +party here. Girls, you are my summer daughters, +and my nephews are running in and out +all the time on some errand or other, so you’ll +see plenty of them. I propose that you drop +titles; I don’t wish to hear a ‘Mr.’ or a ‘Miss’ +all summer. I hope you will take Cecily’s +cousins for <em>your</em> cousins, as you have taken me +for a ‘mother’.” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-11"> +<a id="page-107" class="pagenum" title="107"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER IX.</span><br> +JASPER BROOK +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">he</span> second day at Halcyon was celebrated +by a picnic at Jasper Falls. After breakfast +the girls busied themselves in preparing +their luncheon. Jean came out of the kitchen +with a small guide-basket on her back, a frying-pan +in one hand and an iron spoon in the +other, followed by Cecily with a fishing basket. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean Lennox, what on earth are you doing +with that frying-pan?” called Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask Cece,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you wish you knew what I’ve got in +here?” said Cecily, and when Betty and +Frances tried to peep through the opening in +the cover Jean whacked them with her spoon. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going to have flapjacks!” guessed +Betty. “Cecily has the flour and Jean has the +maple-syrup.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which she will proceed to spill down the +waterfall, while composing an ode to Jasper +Brook,” added Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s lettuce inside there; I saw it +through the hole,” said Frances. “We’re +going to have lobster salad!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-108" class="pagenum" title="108"></a> +“You don’t catch lobsters in lakes, or fry +salad, my dear,” returned Cecily. “And you +might as well stop guessing, for I won’t tell you +a thing about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! My rifle! I must have it to fire salutes +from the top of the falls! I’d better +carry it loaded, in case we should meet a catamount,” +said Carol, mischievously, as she +picked up her treasure under the very nose of +Fräulein Bunsen. +</p> + +<p> +“Nein, Carolchen! You leave dat gun at +home,” said Fräulein with decision. “Mrs. +Brook, please lock up dat weapon where she +cannot find it. She vill kill us all and herself +too!” Carol laughed and good-naturedly laid +down the alarming instrument of destruction. +</p> + +<p> +With Cecily and Roderick Dhu as guides the +campers started on their walk along the wooded +edge of the lake. At every step there was something +to make lovers of nature look or listen +with delight. Green velvet cushions of moss +and “hairy-caps” bordered the trail. Wild +strawberries, nestling among the cool leaves, +kept the girls swooping down like birds of prey. +Tiny hats and umbrellas of fungus, red, yellow, +creamy and brown, dotted the way; and even +every old decaying stump was in gala dress, +decked with scarlet-tipped Cladonia, or its sister +with the fairy goblets. Overhead the +<a id="page-109" class="pagenum" title="109"></a> +thrushes were in glorious voice, and the air +was full of sweet bird-calls. +</p> + +<p> +After skirting the lake for about a mile they +came to a blazed beech-tree with a sign saying, +“To Jasper Falls.” The trail which ran from +the foot of the tree led deep into the woods +away from the lake. Following the little path +they came to the most winsome and enchanting +brook that ever parched one’s throat by the +mere sound of its rushing. The girls filled the +tin cups which hung from their belts and drank, +or lay on the margin and put their lips to the +swift-flowing stream; and the pure cold water +would have been worth a journey through the +desert of Sahara, Eunice said. +</p> + +<p> +Jasper Brook had won its name from the +polished rocks that glowed ruddy and golden +brown in its bed. Sometimes these formed a +path of stepping-stones, and sometimes they +broke the stream into little rapids that eddied +and foamed and swirled. Sometimes they lay, +smooth and shining, at the bottom of a mirror-like +pool, and sometimes they rose in boulders +over which the girls had to scramble as they +made their way up the brook. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond a bend the falls stood revealed in all +their beauty. First and lowest of all, a miniature +Niagara, the color of jade where it slipped +smoothly over a great rock, and a cloud of +<a id="page-110" class="pagenum" title="110"></a> +sparkling foam where it broke. Then, above, +a ledge of the living rock, over which the brook +glided clear as glass. Higher yet, a cascade, +hanging in a shimmering silver veil over a cliff +at the right—a Swiss Staubbach, as Fräulein +called it. This was Jasper Brook, as it descended +over a natural staircase of rock. With +much scrambling and slipping and laughing the +trampers made the ascent along the very edge, +and sometimes, indeed, in the stream itself. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it beautiful! I’d like to stand right +under those darling falls and let them come +down on top of me!” cried Jean, climbing upon +a rock near the “Staubbach.” “Come up here +where you can feel the spray! It’s as good as +a shower-bath!” From the ledge above, the +cascade fell in a shower of mist to the pool at +her feet, the cool drops sprinkling her face. +The rest of the vanguard scrambled up beside +her. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you tying a knot in your handkerchief +for, Joan of Arc?” Cecily asked presently. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Curiosity killed the cat,’” quoted Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I know what it’s for,” said Carol. “That +knot’s a reminder to write a poem on the +‘Staubbach.’ I knew the Muse was awake when +I asked Jean if she wasn’t getting soaked in +the spray, and she smiled seraphically and +dreamily answered, ‘Um!’ I haven’t had the +<a id="page-111" class="pagenum" title="111"></a> +honor of <em>two</em> visits from a poet without learning +to read the signs. Excelsior! Let’s +scramble on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s name all the different falls and rocks +and things we come to,” Jean proposed. +“Let’s name <em>this</em>, ‘Silver Sword Falls,’ and +<em>that</em> can be ‘Golden Shield Pool.’ It’s quite a +goldy color, and it’s shaped like a shield.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s shaped much more like a dishpan,” +said practical Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s name the places for ourselves,” +Betty suggested, resuming the march up the +stony path. +</p> + +<p> +“All right! We’ll call this ‘Betty’s Toboggan +Slide,’” replied Cecily. For Betty suddenly +slipped backward on the slippery incline. +</p> + +<p> +“This is ‘Carol Cascade,’” said Jean, as +they stood on a flat rock watching a wild little +cataract foaming and boiling. +</p> + +<p> +“It <em>does</em> look like her,” said Eunice. +“That’s just the way she rushes pell-mell into +things. Those little curly rapids do for her +hair—it’s always in a wild fly.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll name that puddle ‘Una Pond.’ It’s +so absent-minded, it’s forgotten to move down +the brook! It’s <em>you</em> all over, Una,” returned +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the use of lugging this basket myself +when I can hitch it on Roderick?” said +Frances. Charmed with this idea she lashed +<a id="page-112" class="pagenum" title="112"></a> +her basket on the chieftain’s back, at which act +of oppression he showed his resentment by worrying +the strap until he had slipped his badge +of servitude off into a small whirlpool, and the +Mouse returned from crawling into a cave in +time to see her pretty new basket spin round +and round and then sail down the waterfall. +</p> + +<p> +“Catch it! catch it! Frisky’s basket! It has +<em>all</em> our Saratoga potatoes!” shrieked Betty to +the girls below. But the runaway swept past +the hands that snatched for it till it reached a +quiet pool, from which Marion Gaylord rescued +it. The basket was intact, but Frances mournfully +spread out upon a stone its once crisp contents, +now water-soaked and limp, and fit only +to nourish the minnows that lived below the +falls. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a horrid old thing, Roderick Dhu!” +said she, slapping the dog, as he applied an interested +nose to the ruined delicacy. “Go away! +You needn’t think <em>you’re</em> going to have any, +just because you’ve spoilt it for <em>us</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Frisk, it was your own fault!” said +Cecily. “Rod isn’t used to carrying baskets, +are you, old petsy?” +</p> + +<p> +Adventures, mishaps and frolics all along the +climb were commemorated in the names chosen +for boulders, pools and rapids. There was +“Roderick’s Roll,” where the collie charged a +chipmunk up a land-slide in a bank and tumbled +<a id="page-113" class="pagenum" title="113"></a> +down with an avalanche of earth and stones; +then “St. Cecilia’s Organ,” where the rocks +looked like slender organ-pipes; and “Nancy’s +Nest,” a little shelf, cushioned with moss, where +Nancy found violets and harebells growing. By +the time the top of the falls was reached all the +members of the party had had their names immortalized +in woodland monuments. +</p> + +<p> +A broad, flat ledge of stone at the head of +Jasper Falls was selected for the dining-table. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and see the boiling spring before we +unpack our luncheon,” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Boiling spring!” cried Pamela Kirkland. +“Now, St. Cecilia, you haven’t a <em>geyser</em> here!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a hot spring, really?” asked Gladys +Pearson. “Do let’s see it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hot? It’s a <em>boiling</em> spring!” Cecily declared. +She led the way to a little pool with a +sandy bed, hidden away in the woods. A tiny +jet of water bubbled up through the sand, and +she dipped in her cup and held it out to Pamela +with the warning, “Don’t burn your mouth!” +Pamela blew to cool the boiling draft and tasted +it gingerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s icy cold!” she exclaimed. +“Cecily Brook,—the idea of your telling such a +whopper! Take off your shield of truth this +instant!” +</p> + +<p> +“I told the truth,” St. Cecilia answered serenely. +“It <em>is</em> a boiling spring. It <em>bubbles</em>! +<a id="page-114" class="pagenum" title="114"></a> +They always call bubbling springs <em>boiling</em>. Oh, +Pam! It was too funny to see you blow!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care—they <em>do</em> have hot springs,” +said Pamela. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, Pamela. We’ll fool the others +when they come up,” said Gladys. +</p> + +<p> +Three of the girls had slung tin pails on their +shoulders, and Helen Westover had carried a +bottle of lemon juice. The boiling spring was +colder than the brook, so here the pails were +filled, and going back to their rock-table the +girls spread out their luncheon and brewed +their lemonade. +</p> + +<p> +Then Cecily opened her mysterious basket, +and Jean recited in sepulchral tones: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“They are neither man nor woman,</p> + <p class="verse">They are neither beast nor human,</p> + <p class="verse">They are—”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Fish!” cried an enraptured chorus, as +Cecily unrolled from the lettuce leaf in which +it had been swathed, a silvery little perch. +</p> + +<p> +“Court and Jack brought them before breakfast,” +said Cecily, unpacking the basketful of +fish, each one enveloped in a fresh lettuce leaf. +“They went fishing before sunrise, and they +thought we’d like some perch and bass for our +picnic, so they brought us their whole catch. +Aren’t they cousins worth having?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-115" class="pagenum" title="115"></a> +Court and Jack were given three cheers immediately, +and voted the first batch of candy +made at Camp Huairarwee. Then came the +fire-building and fish-frying. The girls collected +sticks, and Cecily being skilled in wood +lore, a scientific fire was soon blazing. She +dropped little lumps of butter into the frying-pan, +and when they were melted and sizzling +in went the first half dozen of fish, to be deftly +turned with the iron spoon, and sprinkled by +Frances with pepper and salt. +</p> + +<p> +The first panful being done to a turn, the fish +were doled out upon lettuce leaves held up by +starving maidens. No one missed the saratoga +chips at the banquet. There were those good +old picnic standbys, sandwiches and hard-boiled +eggs, and for dessert, large, sweet summer apples, +generous slices of maple-sugar cake and +ice-cold lemonade. +</p> + +<p> +“This would be a royal spread even if we +were eating it in the Hazelhurst dining-room,” +said Nancy. “But there isn’t anything like +a fine old rushing, roaring waterfall for giving +your luncheon a flavor!” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-12"> +<a id="page-116" class="pagenum" title="116"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER X.</span><br> +THE TRAIL TO THE NORTH POLE +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>H</span><span class="postfirstchar">ow</span> would you like to go to the North Pole +now?” asked Cecily as, luncheon over, +the girls lolled on the rocks above Jasper Falls. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ready for North Pole, South Pole, +Equator, or anything,” declared Jean with enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have to go to Christmas Cave, then,” +said Cecily. “The pole’s inside it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there really something here you call the +North Pole?” asked Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course there is,” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, then,—let’s make a dash for the +pole!” said Jean. Every one was ready to +march, and Cecily led the party down the hill +into the dense woods at its base to take the +trail to the Arctic regions. +</p> + +<p> +That trail, however, seemed to be hidden +beyond all discovery. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t find it anywhere!” Cecily had to +admit. “I’ll go a little farther and see if I can +strike it.” She pushed on with Miss Hamersley +and a few energetic explorers. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-117" class="pagenum" title="117"></a> +Jean, Frances and Betty, busy coaxing a +chipmunk to be friendly, were among those who +stayed behind with Fräulein Bunsen. Roderick +Dhu had gone off on a hunt, and presently +they saw a rabbit shoot across the path and +into a thicket, the collie in pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +“Rod—stop! come here!” called Jean, and +she darted after the dog, hoping to prevent +bloodshed. Frances and Betty joined the +chase, but the three soon found themselves +barred by the dense tangle that stopped even +Roderick, yet proved a safe retreat for the rabbit. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, girls! What’s that rustling?” exclaimed +Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“A bear probably,” said Frances. “Sick +’em, Rod!” But the collie needed no urging. +He dashed barking around the edge of the +thicket. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! What is it? Let’s run!” cried +Betty, and she sped back to the others with a +haste most unworthy of a battle maid. +</p> + +<p> +Jean and Frances followed the dog, and +stopped short. Confronting them stood a man, +looking strangely dark in the deep shade,—a +man at whom Roderick Dhu was growling +suspiciously. The girls pulled the dog +away. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back to the others,” said Jean, and +the two valiant amazons hurried after Betty. +<a id="page-118" class="pagenum" title="118"></a> +A rustling of leaves told them that the man +was following. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m scared!” giggled Frances, and Jean +felt as if something eerie were pursuing them. +</p> + +<p> +“Betty, your bear’s coming after us!” +Frances announced as they rejoined their +friends, and a minute later the stranger presented +himself. +</p> + +<p> +After all there was nothing uncanny about +him: he was, on the contrary, a most picturesque +figure. His swarthy complexion, jet black +hair, restless dark eyes and handsome features, +were well set off by his corduroy suit, blue flannel +shirt and wide felt hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, kind sir, know you where lies de +Christmas Cave?” asked Fräulein, who had +studied Shakespeare when she was learning +English and was apt to slip into Elizabethan +phrases. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey? What, marm?” asked the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“He understands me not. You ask him, +Carol,” said Fräulein. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to have said, ‘Be thy intents +wicked or charitable, thou comest in such a +questionable shape that I will speak to thee.’ +You’re forgetting your <em>Hamlet</em>, Bunnie, liebchen,” +said Carol. Then she turned to the +newcomer, saying, “We’re trying to find the +trail to Christmas Cave. Do you know where +it begins?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-119" class="pagenum" title="119"></a> +“Christmas Cave? That’s about a mile +from here,” the man answered. “I’ll show +you the trail. Come right along this way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,” said Carol, “but we must +wait for the rest of our party.” +</p> + +<p> +The man seemed quite ready to enjoy repose +and a chat, and he lounged against a tree with +a careless grace. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a French count in disguise!” whispered +Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” agreed Eunice. “He only said, +‘Hey? What, marm?’ to make us think he was +a country bumpkin.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he’s a charming villain,” said Carol. +“I’m morally certain he has a dagger hidden +in each of his boots.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you’re the folks that’s stayin’ with +Mis’ Brook down to Black Bear Camp, ain’t +you?” the stranger inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, are you one of the guides?” asked Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, kinder. I ain’t a reg’lar guide, but +I know the business a good deal better than +them guides at the inn. Their game’s to +git the highest pay for takin’ you the shortest +cut. All they care for is to git paid for savin’ +their own shoe leather. But that ain’t <em>my</em> way. +I charge jest half what the reg’lar guides do, +and take you the prettiest trail every time. So +I’m your guide whenever you want one.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-120" class="pagenum" title="120"></a> +The explorers returned just then, and Cecily +exclaimed, “Why, there’s Tony Harrel! How +do you do, Tony? Do you know where the trail +to Christmas Cave starts?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jest waitin’ to take you there,” replied the +gallant Tony. “I found the ladies was in a +fix, an’ told ’em I’d show ’em the way. I’ll +take you home by the new trail too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol,” whispered Jean, “don’t you remember—Douglas +said it was Tony Harrel that +stole his rifle! This must be the same man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like Tony a bit,” Cecily confided to +Jean. “He <em>will</em> call me ‘Cissy,’ and he won’t +say ‘Miss.’ But I’m glad we met him, so he +can show us the way. His real name’s Mark +Antony—isn’t that rich!” +</p> + +<p> +Mark Antony led the way to where a narrow +trail branched out from their path. Then he +said to Cecily, who, with Carol and Jean, was +in advance of the rest, “Say, Cissy, your +mother’s lookin’ round for a boatman, ain’t +she? I heard Eph Jones disapp’inted her, an’ +I kinder thought I’d like the place, myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I’m almost sure she’s going to +engage Douglas Gordon,” Cecily answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she’s goin’ to take that kid, is she?” +Mark Antony smiled scornfully. “Well, I +guess after she’s tried him for about one day, +she’ll be lookin’ for somebody else.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-121" class="pagenum" title="121"></a> +“Douglas has been very well recommended,” +said Cecily with her most grown up air. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, he’s a mighty fine gen’leman, of +course,” Harrel acknowledged. “Great on +readin’ books, an’ that sort o’ thing; but when +it comes down to doin’ chores, the work <em>he</em> +knows how to do ’s to keep his hands clean. +He’s boardin’ with us, so I know. I guess the +folks at Big Pine Camp thought he was a little +<em>too</em> much of a dude!” +</p> + +<p> +“They didn’t at all!” burst out Jean. “He +worked as hard as he could, and he only left +because their man came back. And he doesn’t +care one bit about keeping his hands clean! +He’s in earnest, and he wants to work!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a gen’leman, all right, though,” said +Tony. “He’ll take good care never to <em>kill</em> +himself workin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know anything about it!” cried +Jean. “He’s too proud to depend on anybody. +And a <em>real</em> gentleman is never ashamed to +work!” +</p> + +<p> +The man laughed, but his dark eyes shot a +sneering glance at Jean. “Well,” he remarked, +“he seems to know how to git around +the girls, all right!” +</p> + +<p> +“He <em>doesn’t</em> try to get around us!” began +Jean indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, Jean, be careful!” With her low +<a id="page-122" class="pagenum" title="122"></a> +voice and warning look Carol checked the warrior-queen. +Then turning to Harrel, she said, +“<em>Miss Brook</em> will show us the way now, herself. +We thank you for showing us the trail, +but we prefer not to trouble you any longer. +Good-afternoon. Girls, we must go back to the +others.” Very quietly she spoke; but she +looked unusually dignified and stately, and +there was something in those clear eyes of hers +that changed Mark Antony’s sneer to a stare +of surprise, followed by an angry glance, and +then caused him, shrugging his shoulders, to +turn away without a word. They heard him +whistling carelessly as they retraced their steps. +</p> + +<p> +“The horrid, old, sneering thing!” exclaimed +Jean. “I wanted to tell him gentlemen didn’t +steal other peoples’ rifles! Why did you tell +me to be careful, Carol?” +</p> + +<p> +“The less you say to such a person, the better,” +answered Carol. “I didn’t like his manner +from the first.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you called me ‘Miss Brook,’ and +sent him marching,” said Cecily. “You <em>can</em> +look like an empress, Carol! I don’t wonder +he turned and fled. My, but you made him +angry, though! Did you see how his eyes +flashed? They say he has Indian blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“He looked about ready to scalp me,” said +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-123" class="pagenum" title="123"></a> +They joined the others, and then Cecily led +the way along the trail to a mass of rock in +which they saw the opening of a cave. +“That’s Christmas Cave,” said she. “Wait +here till I come back.” She vanished inside +the cavern, reappeared, and threw something +at Jean which hit her in the chest and burst +as it struck. +</p> + +<p> +“Snow!” gasped Jean. “Good gracious me! +A snowball!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was a snowball,” said Cecily. +“Merry Christmas! Come and hang up your +stockings.” +</p> + +<p> +As many girls as could crowd in followed +her into the cave and found themselves shivering +in the chilly air of Jack Frost’s impregnable +fortress. Patches of snow, the relics of +last winter’s drifts, lay in crevices in the rocks. +In the farthest recess was an accumulation of +rough ice, and planted in its center stood a miniature +Indian totem-pole with grotesque figures +carved upon it and painted red, white and +blue. A tiny American flag was fastened at +the top of the pole. +</p> + +<p> +“Hooray! There’s the North Pole, and it +belongs to Uncle Sam!” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll own both poles before he’s done with +it,” said Carol. “The stars and stripes forever!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-124" class="pagenum" title="124"></a> +“Jack made the pole,” said Cecily. “Isn’t +that a fine iceberg? It never melts all the +year round.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s have a snowball fight,” Frances proposed, +and a battle ensued. The ammunition +was scarce, but the girls kept remoulding their +shot, every one who could find a bit of snow +joining in the fray. +</p> + +<p> +When everybody had enjoyed a taste of +freezing, the campers trudged home to Huairarwee. +They found Douglas Gordon on the +veranda, talking with Mrs. Brook, and just as +the supper-horn sounded, he came down and +broke the good news to Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s engaged me for the whole summer! +I’m going to get six dollars a week, and I +start to-night. I’m going to build your camp-fire.” +</p> + +<p> +That evening Douglas built a royal fire, and +around it the merriest of revels took place. +The girls of the Hazelhurst glee-club led the +others in an open air concert, to the accompaniment +of Carol’s mandolin. All the best-loved +college songs were given, and the favorites of +the school, ending with “Hazelhurst Hall forever!” +set to the tune of the Eton Boating +Song, and now rendered with an added verse in +which it was “Halcyon Lake forever!” and +“Cheer for the best of camps!” Charades followed +<a id="page-125" class="pagenum" title="125"></a> +and then good old-fashioned <em>twenty questions</em>. +</p> + +<p> +“I decline to do any more guessing!” Carol +declared, when Jean and Cecily, leagued together, +had put the rest through mental gymnastics. +“The Silver Sworders go too deep +into history for the brains of an <em>alumna</em>! I +remember that ‘King Arthur made a bag-pudding,’ +and the immortal George chopped down +a cherry-tree, but beyond that I’m rusty. And +when it comes to having to guess the one hundred +and first hair that turned gray on Oliver +Cromwell’s head—that’s altogether too violent +a cerebral strain!” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you,” said Nancy. “Let’s +drop <em>twenty questions</em> and tell an alphabetical +story. Some one gives a sentence—or as much +more as her brains are equal to—with all the +words beginning with <em>A</em>; then when she breaks +off, some one else takes up the story all in <em>B’s</em>, +and so we go on down the alphabet. It’s better +not to go around in turn,—but to answer up +as our names are called,—then we sha’n’t know +beforehand what letters we’re to have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Worse than Oliver’s hair!” groaned Carol. +But Jean cried eagerly: “Let’s play it!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll call out your names,” said Miss Hamersley. +“Dorothy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me time!” gasped Dorothy Stone. +<a id="page-126" class="pagenum" title="126"></a> +“Let me see:—a—a—Oh, wait! I’m getting +it! An attractive—amiable—athletic—assembly—ambled +artlessly along a—a—I’m +stuck!” +</p> + +<p> +“Along a what, Ethel?” asked Miss Hamersley. +</p> + +<p> +“Babbling brook. Blushing boarding-school +beauties—bounded—blissfully,—brandishing +birch-bark boomerangs! Bouncing Betty,—I’ve +given out!” +</p> + +<p> +With sighs, and petitions to the audience to +“Wait a minute!” the rigmarole was spun out, +sentence by sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“Helen,” said Miss Hamersley, “what did +bouncing Betty do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Crept cautiously, clutching Cecily. Carol, +chanting cheerily, climbed cliffs, crags,—crossed +cataracts,—cleverly caught crabs,—I’m exhausted!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ruth!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dauntless Dorothy daringly darted down +dark dangerous declivities.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marion!” +</p> + +<p> +“Eunice, eating eels, eschewed elegant edibles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nancy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Frances frisked fairy-like, following fleeing +fawns. Fräulein frantically fished for frogs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Winifred!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-127" class="pagenum" title="127"></a> +“Giddy Gladys glided gleefully, gyrating +gracefully. Grace Gardner gloatingly gathered +great, green grasshoppers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Katrina!” +</p> + +<p> +“Haughty Helen hallooed hysterically: +‘Help! help!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Indicating irate Indian invaders,” said +Hope La Monte, as her name was called. +</p> + +<p> +“Gladys!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jolly Jean jumped joyously, jesting jocosely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frances!” +</p> + +<p> +“Katrina killed kittymounts,—catamount +cubs, I mean,” said Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Pamela!” +</p> + +<p> +“Louise liked luncheon-time, loving liquid +lemonade.” +</p> + +<p> +“Olive!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mad Marion marched merrily ’mid mirthful +mandolin music.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol!” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>En</em>chanting Nancy Newcomb <em>en</em>countered +ninety-nine noxious gnats.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol, you cheat!” cried Nancy. “Pay a +forfeit immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>I</em> spell phonetically,” Carol replied calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean!” called Miss Hamersley. +</p> + +<p> +“Omnivorous Olive ordered oysters, omelet, +oatmeal, owl-on-toast,—<em>olives</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-128" class="pagenum" title="128"></a> +“Louise!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pamela preferred perch,” Louise Phillips +responded. +</p> + +<p> +“Eunice!” +</p> + +<p> +“Queenie quavered querulously: ‘Quinces, +quails, quartered cucumbers!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheating again! Betty!” +</p> + +<p> +“Roderick—running rabid—rushed raging—round +Ruth!” +</p> + +<p> +“Grace!” +</p> + +<p> +“Strenuous Silver Sword Sisters, slaying, +slashing, slaughtering—.” +</p> + +<p> +“Traced the terrible Tony through the tangled +thicket,” said Cecily, the last of the twenty +girls. “Now, Douglas, you’ll have to finish the +alphabet.” +</p> + +<p> +“U. V. W. X. Y. Z.—all of them?” +asked Douglas, with a wry face. “I ought to +have a dictionary. Let’s see.” He meditated. +“Will this do? Ugly, underhanded villain wandered +wobbling, <em>ex</em>citedly yelling, ‘Zoological +zigzag zebras!’” The camp boatman had acquitted +himself nobly and was applauded. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let’s play some writing-games; we +have plenty of light,” Winifred Russell proposed. +</p> + +<p> +“Winsome Winnie wishes we would write +wise witticisms,” said Carol. “Impossible, +Win,—but we can perpetrate some more nonsense.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-129" class="pagenum" title="129"></a> +Pencils and paper were brought, and “gingerbread +poetry” and <em>verbarium</em> were played +by the firelight. +</p> + +<p> +“Now <em>I</em> am going to beg for the old-fashioned +game I used to love when I was Cecily’s +age,” said Mrs. Brook. “First you each write +the description of the hero of your story, fold +it over and pass it on to your neighbor. Then +you write the hero’s name; then how the heroine +looked, and her name; then, where they met, +what he said, what she said, what they did, the +consequence, and what the world said. And +each time you fold over what you’ve written +and pass it on.” +</p> + +<p> +Pencils flew busily, and when the papers were +read aloud, the campers found themselves figuring +as heroines in the most thrilling situations. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s a tragedy!” said Cecily, and she +read the last paper. +</p> + +<div class="citation"> +<p class="noindent"> +“The raven-haired, fiery-eyed, French count, Douglas +Gordon, and the dashing new woman who has +made a world record in her racing automobile, Fräulein +Bunsen—” +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“I? Racing in automobiles?” cried Fräulein. +</p> + +<div class="citation"> +<p class="noindent"> +“Met at the bottom of Halcyon Lake, their canoes +having capsized. He said: ‘Where are you going, +my pretty giraffe?’” +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-130" class="pagenum" title="130"></a> +Jean boxed Frances’ ears. +</p> + +<div class="citation"> +<p class="noindent"> +“She said: ‘Don’t shoot that kingfisher!’ and +leaped. Then they mounted the winged horse, Cyclone, +and flew madly over the Adirondacks. The +consequence was that Mark Antony Harrel immured +them in Christmas Cave till they froze to the iceberg, +and then made his fortune by exhibiting them +as fossils of the glacial period. And the world said: +‘What else could you expect at a girls’ camp!’” +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“You are very naughty girls to treat me so!” +said Fräulein. “For punishment you must +bring apples to roast and de kettle—vat you +call him,—de Villiam?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Billy,” laughed Carol. +</p> + +<p> +The apples and the Billy were brought, and +while the company feasted on chocolate, boiled +over the camp-fire, and roast apples, a story-telling +contest went on. Here Jean was in her +element and told a blood-curdling tale of an +Indian chief who in days of yore had pitched +his wigwam where the bungalow now stood, +had scalped his enemies wholesale, and finally, +while kidnapping a beautiful squaw, had himself +been tomahawked on Camp-fire Rock by the +maiden’s betrothed. Since that time, Jean assured +her hearers, his ghost had haunted Huairarwee. +</p> + +<p> +“Enter the ghost!” Carol suddenly announced +in a sepulchral voice. The other girls +<a id="page-131" class="pagenum" title="131"></a> +started, half a dozen screamed, and Roderick +Dhu awoke barking. A dark figure was gliding +stealthily through the trees on the bluff, with +the noiseless tread of an Indian. Douglas ran +up the bank to investigate. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only Tony Harrel!” he said. “Say, +Tony, I’ll be home soon. Don’t lock me out!” +</p> + +<p> +Mark Antony deigned not to reply. He vanished +as noiselessly as he had come. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-13"> +<a id="page-132" class="pagenum" title="132"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XI.</span><br> +MERMAIDS +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>G</span><span class="postfirstchar">irls,</span> put on your bathing suits. It’s +so much warmer to-day we can take +our morning dip.” Miss Hamersley issued +the order from her tent at half-past six, and a +few minutes later a troop of girls in bathing +suits gathered under the trees before their +teacher, who was also dressed for a plunge. +“We are going to start our routine of camp +life this morning. We’ll begin with the ‘setting +up’ drill,” she said. She made her pupils +form in line, and led them through a series of +calisthenic exercises which sent the blood tingling +through their veins. +</p> + +<p> +The drill over, the girls went down to the +lake. Morning clouds still hung about the distant +hills, but the mist had lifted from the calm +water, and the basin on the edge of which +Camp Huairarwee stood flashed in the early +sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +“Ugh! It’s cold! I’ll never screw up my +courage to go under,” said Betty, as she dipped +her hand into the ripples, while Frances sent +<a id="page-133" class="pagenum" title="133"></a> +Roderick Dhu dashing in after a stick. Carol, +Nancy and Helen rushed past them, waded far +into the water, dived under, and bobbing up +again struck out in a swimming race. +</p> + +<p> +“Forward march!” cried the queen of the +Silver Sword. Wading boldly out, with +Frances after her, down she dipped, over head +and shoulders, and rose laughing and gasping +from the shock. “Whew! It takes your +breath away, but it’s fine! Cece, you’re a +splendid swimmer!” she called, as Cecily shot +by her through the water. “Teach me, will +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Cecily, stopping her swim. +“Throw yourself out <em>this</em> way, and go <em>so</em>! I’ll +hold your chin up.” She gave an object lesson +in the jump and the strokes, and Jean, nothing +daunted, tried again and again, thrashing the +water furiously, while Betty splashed and shivered, +and Frances, almost as amphibious as +Cecily, floated peacefully till she collided with +Roderick Dhu. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out now!” called Miss Hamersley. +</p> + +<p> +“But we’ve only been in a minute!” the +bathers complained. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been in quite long enough for the +first time. You may take a longer dip to-morrow,” +was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas arrived soon after breakfast to +begin his first day’s work as camp boatman. +<a id="page-134" class="pagenum" title="134"></a> +Jean ran to meet him. “Did you find out what +Tony Harrel was doing around here last +night?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Douglas. “He said it was +none of my business. He was as mad as a +hornet about something or other.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know why he was mad,” said Jean. +“He wanted to be our boatman himself. He +spoke to Cecily about it yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whe-ew!” whistled Douglas. “I didn’t +know I was cutting him out! I don’t wonder +he’s grouchy!” +</p> + +<p> +“You <em>didn’t</em> cut him out at all,” said Jean. +“Mrs. Brook says she wouldn’t have had him +for anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe he was snooping around to see how +badly I was doing my work,” said Douglas. +“He’s a queer chap. He has a habit of sneaking +along softly,—makes me think of a catamount.” +</p> + +<p> +“That must be the Indian in him!” said +Jean. “Cecily told me he had Indian blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“He looks Indianish,” said Douglas. “It +must be his instinct to follow the warpath that +makes him sneak like that! Aren’t you sorry +you haven’t got an Algonquin chief for your +boatman?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not! I’m afraid he’d tomahawk +us some day!” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>You</em> got me the place: I won’t forget that +<a id="page-135" class="pagenum" title="135"></a> +in a hurry,” said Douglas gratefully. “Let +me teach you to paddle, this morning, will +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let you! I should think I would!” cried +Jean: “I’m wild to learn! I’ll run up and +ask Miss Hamersley.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed!” was Miss Hamersley’s reply, +“if you’ll be <em>very</em> careful, and be sure to be +back in half an hour. You know Mrs. Brook +has ordered the launch from the Inn to take us +the round trip of the lake this morning. It is +to be here at half-past nine. We must not keep +it waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, let me go too!” cried Frances, jumping +down from her perch on the veranda railing. +“I haven’t been in a canoe yet,—only a stupid +old rowboat!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Frances, three are too many for the +canoe while Jean is learning to paddle,” said +Miss Hamersley. “You may come in the boat +with me, if you would like to. I was going to +take somebody out, myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Frances looked sulky as she turned away +with Jean. “Miss Hamersley’s an old crank!” +she grumbled, when out of the teacher’s +hearing. “I think it’s mean! I haven’t been +in a canoe once, and this is your second time!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s too bad, Frisk,” said Jean. “Never +mind; I’ll just take a short lesson, and then +Douglas will have time to take you.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-136" class="pagenum" title="136"></a> +“Oh, yes, I know what your short time +means!” returned Frances petulantly. “The +launch’ll be here by the time you get back! I +don’t believe I’ll have a chance to go in a +canoe for a week,—there’s such a crowd of us! +I don’t care—I think it’s mean! I’m just +crazy to learn how to paddle.” She walked +away, preferring to stay self-marooned on +shore than to compromise with the despised +rowboat and Miss Hamersley. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, bother! I suppose I’ll have to ask +Douglas to give me only half the time, and then +take <em>her</em>. It won’t be any kind of a lesson,—just +fifteen minutes!” Jean said to herself, as +she went down to the boat-house. Douglas was +waiting for her at the landing, with a canoe. +“That’s a mighty pretty pin you have on,” +said he as she joined him. “A sword and a +shield, isn’t it? Is it a class pin?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s the badge of our society. All the +girls of my class belong to the Order of the +Silver Sword,” Jean answered. +</p> + +<p> +“All aboard!” said Douglas, holding out his +hand to help her. “You sit there in the bow.” +But Jean’s fingers were on her badge, and she +held back. +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas, I wish you’d take Frances instead +of me, this time,” she said. “I don’t +want to be selfish. I was in the canoe yesterday, +and she hasn’t been at all. Won’t you +<a id="page-137" class="pagenum" title="137"></a> +please give her a lesson now, and I’ll wait till +to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please come! I want to teach <em>you</em>,” +begged Douglas. “Yesterday doesn’t count. +We start in to-day, and you have the first +turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Douglas, please! You know I’d love +to, but I want you to take her. She wants to +go ever so much, and I can wait perfectly +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“So can she. Come along. You said you +would.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know I did, but I want her to go first. +Please take her this time.” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas looked at the earnest, resolute face, +and a smile broke over his own. “All right!” +he answered. “I’ll take her, but you stay +around the dock. I’ll give her a lesson first, +and then I’ll come back for you—that’s only +square! There’s plenty of time for both. It +won’t take <em>you</em> long to learn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you, Douglas, ever so much! +I’ll wait right here for you.” Light-hearted, +Jean ran to call Frances, who was roaming +about with a glum face. +</p> + +<p> +“Frisk! Douglas is going to take you out +first and give you a lesson, and then he’s +coming back for me,” said Jean. “He says +there’s plenty of time for both of us.” +</p> + +<p> +The sulky face was bright in a twinkling. +<a id="page-138" class="pagenum" title="138"></a> +“Don’t you really mind if I go first? Honor +bright?” asked Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“No. You go first!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a peach!” Frances tossed back a +kiss as she flew down to the canoe. Jean followed +her to the water’s edge, and waited there, +watching the lesson. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Giraffe, it’s simply grand!” cried +Frances, as they came in to shore. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s ten minutes for you, now,” said +Douglas, when the second pupil embarked. +It was a short lesson, for the launch was +already in sight, but it was a successful one. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you’re getting the hang of it! +That’s first rate!” said Douglas, as she toiled +away at the paddle. And he called to Cecily, +as they passed her canoe, “Miss Jean’s going +to beat everybody on the lake, pretty soon!” +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas,” said his pupil, “please don’t call +me <em>Miss</em> Jean. I don’t like to be called ‘Miss.’ +It makes me feel queer. I’m only a little girl, +if I <em>am</em> tall! Please say <em>Jean</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“That isn’t right for the man-of-all-work, +is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care if you <em>are</em> the man-of-all-work,—you’re +a gentleman!” she answered. +“You must say <em>Jean</em>!” And Douglas laughed +and said, “All right, Jean!” +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon the first swimming lesson +took place, Miss Hamersley and a few girls +<a id="page-139" class="pagenum" title="139"></a> +who were expert swimmers teaching the +“freshies,” as they dubbed those who had not +yet learned to be aquatic. Before many days +were over one would hardly have recognized +the pale Jean of Hazelhurst Hall in the +brown and rosy head pupil of Carol’s swimming +class. A dip in the lake before breakfast; +later on, boating and swimming; a tramp +every other day, and at least twice a week a +picnic, in which Camp Hurricane usually +joined,—that was the rule at Huairarwee. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to have my girls taught how to +be capsized without drowning,” said Miss +Hamersley, one day. “Mrs. Brook has arranged +for Douglas and Jack to take you out +in canoes and show you how to go overboard. +They will take care that you are within your +depth, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +So at the close of the swimming, Douglas and +Jack in their bathing suits gave an object lesson +with Cecily. They took her far out in a +canoe, for she was a mermaid well used to exploring +the green depths of the lake. Suddenly +Douglas stepped upon the gunwale. The +canoe went over instantly, and all three vanished +under the waves. The water was stirred +as if giant fishes were disporting themselves, +but no heads reappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! They’re not drowning, are +they?” wailed Betty. But just then Cecily’s +<a id="page-140" class="pagenum" title="140"></a> +head popped up about a rod from where she +had gone down. Then Jack, then Douglas +looked out of the water, an amazing distance +farther out. They swam back, however, and +recovering the floating bowls which they had +taken with them for bailing, they quickly +emptied their craft; then climbed in over the +bow and stern, and paddled back to shore. +</p> + +<p> +“Did we scare you?” said Cecily. “We +had a little excursion under water!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who wants to be spilled now?” asked Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>I</em> don’t!” said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“I <em>do</em>!” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll let Giraffe go first. It’ll take deep +water to drown <em>her</em>!” said the Mouse magnanimously. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas paddled Jean out, while Jack +launched another canoe. “Now, when you feel +yourself going,” said he, “just keep your +mouth shut and let yourself go easy, and then +strike out and swim.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean shut her mouth and watched his mischievous +face intently. The canoe kept giving +disconcerting wobbles, but it was just when +the boy had assumed a look of the utmost innocence +that the upset came. Jean let herself +go, and go she did with a mighty splash. +Striking out boldly, she swam till she found +herself panting heavily, then let her feet touch +<a id="page-141" class="pagenum" title="141"></a> +bottom and stood up, head and shoulders out +of water. +</p> + +<p> +“Good work!” said Douglas. “No use +trying to drown <em>you</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s as easy as going to sleep!” Jean declared. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas gave her a lesson in bailing out +while supporting herself in the water; and then +one in reëmbarking, which she found far more +difficult, though after tipping the canoe over +several times, she scrambled in successfully +at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let’s get Frances, and I’ll swamp +you both together,” said Douglas. The Mouse +was emboldened to take her turn, and giggled +and squealed as the boy tipped the canoe from +side to side to make it fill. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Douglas! Let’s act Jean saving the +kingfisher’s life!” Frances proposed. +</p> + +<p> +“All right!” And with his paddle for a +rifle Douglas took aim at Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t shoot that Giraffe!” shrieked +Frances, and lurching forward the frolicksome +maid of honor flung her arms wildly around +her queen. The canoe, already half full, went +over like a flash. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it, anyway,—a whale or a tidal +wave?” Douglas inquired as they righted themselves +in the water. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-142" class="pagenum" title="142"></a> +“It was nothing but a bad little Mouse, and +I’m going to drown her!” said Jean. She +made a pounce for Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Shoo! Get away! I tried to save your +life, when I saw all was lost! You went down +clasped in my arms, Giraffe!” said Frances +with reproachful tenderness, as she protected +herself behind Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’ll go down clasped in <em>my</em> arms, +this time!” Jean retorted. She caught +Frances at last and ducked her well. +</p> + +<p> +By ones and twos the candidates were initiated; +and the lesson was repeated from time +to time, until every girl in camp might have +been trusted to show presence of mind even +should she be upset in the middle of the lake. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-14"> +<a id="page-143" class="pagenum" title="143"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XII.</span><br> +A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>I</span><span class="postfirstchar">’ve</span> got a new bunk now, Jean,” said +Douglas, as he set out for his Sunday half-holiday, +a covered tin pail in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean you’ve left the Harrels’?” +asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to leave to-night. I won’t stay +in <em>that</em> place any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tony’s mad because people are getting +onto his breaking the game laws, and he thinks +I gave him away. He told me I’d been lying +about him. I won’t stand anybody saying that +I lie!” +</p> + +<p> +“The wicked thing! How did he dare?” +cried Jean. “He won’t try to hurt you now, +will he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, shucks, no!” said Douglas contemptuously. +“Don’t you worry about <em>me</em>! He went +off this morning, anyhow: he says he’s got a +job in Plattsburg. Guess where I’m going?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the Hamiltons’?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Good guess. Yes, Dr. Hamilton found out +<a id="page-144" class="pagenum" title="144"></a> +I was going to leave, and he said he’d take me +in and let me work out my board when I’m off +duty here. Isn’t that a cinch?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think it was! It’s perfectly +fine!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry about Limpy, though,” said +Douglas. “She feels real badly because I’m +going.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s Limpy?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s George Harrel’s stepdaughter. Her +mother’s dead. She’s sick, and I do things +for her and sort of jolly her up.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with her?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know. Her heart does queer +stunts. She was sick all last winter, and now +she’s just weak all the time, and sometimes +she gets unconscious fits,—you’d think she was +going to die right off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor thing, how dreadful!” cried Jean. +“What a funny name <em>Limpy</em> is!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s short for <em>Olympia</em>,—Stella Olympia +Weeks—that’s the whole of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stella Olympia Weeks! Horrors!” exclaimed +Jean. “I should think her <em>name</em> +would be enough! Limpy Weeks,—limp and +weak! I don’t wonder she’s weak all the +time. <em>Stella</em>’s pretty, though. Why don’t +they call her <em>Stella</em>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Give it up,” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“How old is she?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-145" class="pagenum" title="145"></a> +“Fifteen—she’s just three days younger +than I am. She’s a real nice girl, but her +father’s a regular old skinflint. Well, anyhow, +Limpy’s going to have something nice +<em>this</em> time. Mrs. Brook gave me some ice cream +for her. I’ll have to hustle, or it’ll melt. +Look here! Couldn’t you go and see her +some time? It’ll do her an awful lot of +good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really? Do you want me to? Do you +think she’d like to have me?” asked Jean, her +face lighting up. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course she would,—she’s awfully +lonely. Come along and see her now, don’t +you want to?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d love to! I’ll get Carol to come too, +and take her mandolin, and sing to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll be great,” said Douglas. “She +loves music, and she hasn’t anything but an +old accordion. I give her accordion concerts.” +</p> + +<p> +Carol had just thrown herself down under +a golden birch to enjoy a comfortable Sunday +afternoon of reading; but the battle maid +roused her mercilessly, demanding that she +bestir herself and join the expedition to visit +the damsel in distress. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“There was a young maid of Brazil,</p> + <p class="verse">Who never could learn to keep still.</p> + <p class="verse2">She was so energetic,</p> +<a id="page-146" class="pagenum" title="146"></a> + <p class="verse2">And peripatetic,</p> + <p class="verse">She made her poor Carolie ill!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +improvised Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“You lazy old Carolie! It won’t make you +ill a bit!” laughed Jean. “Come along, +<em>please</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, now, Queenie, does your majesty really +think it’s your duty to drag me off with you +this hot day, when I’m <em>so</em> comfortable? +Think what a nice chance it is to show <em>me</em> a +little Caritas, and let me rest in peace!” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t need any Caritas at all!” said +Jean relentlessly. “Come along! <em>I</em> don’t +know what to say to sick people. You’ll have +to help me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, misery me!” groaned Carol. “Well, +pull me up!” she added good-naturedly, +holding out a lazy arm. “I’ll go with you and +die of sun-stroke in a good cause,—that is, if +our stern teachers will let us run off together +again. Go and ask them.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. You’re a love and a jewel! +Oh, Carolie! don’t forget to take your +mandolin!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going to <em>sing</em> at that poor sick +girl!” Carol objected. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but Carolie, Douglas says she <em>loves</em> music, +and she has only a silly old accordion! You +<em>must</em> sing for her,” Jean insisted. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-147" class="pagenum" title="147"></a> +“Why did I adopt a tyrant!” sighed Carol, +going into her tent. +</p> + +<p> +It was a mile to the Harrel farm, and the +place—Carol said when they reached it—was +enough to give the Frisky Mouse, herself, the +blues. For many a year the house had cried +for a coat of paint, and the barn looked ready +to topple over. Douglas took them into the +living-room, where nearly every piece of furniture +was a threadbare cripple. There they +found Limpy lying on a dilapidated sofa. She +had tossed her tangle of pale, lusterless hair +over the pillow, and thrown her patch-work +quilt on the floor. She wore an untidy calico +wrapper, the collar flying open and the sleeves +rolled up, showing her pitifully thin neck and +arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Limpy!” said Douglas. “I brought +Miss Armstrong and Miss Jean to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl turned her head and stared, but did +not speak or smile. Such a white, tired face +as the poor child had! Her big gray eyes had +dark rings under them, and their expression +was listless and unhappy. Jean had picked a +large bunch of daisies, but she lacked the courage +to offer it. Carol, nothing daunted, knelt +down by the sofa and caught up a weak little +hand. “You poor little chicky! What’s happened +to you?” she exclaimed. “You’ve had +a real hard time, haven’t you? It’s too bad! +<a id="page-148" class="pagenum" title="148"></a> +But we’re going to take you in hand and pet +you up and make you well again.” +</p> + +<p> +Limpy looked in dumb astonishment at the +lovely, healthful face, and the clear eyes full of +sunlight, and Carol went on cheerily: “You +know there’s a great big crowd of us girls +here, and we’re all just as jolly as can be. +We’re going to spend the whole summer, and +you must take us all for friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“’S ma’am,” murmured Limpy faintly; as +if the prospect of friends was depressing. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Jean’s coming to see you a lot,” said +Douglas. “You won’t care a cent about my +going, now.” Limpy moved her head in a sad +little shake of denial. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re not going to let you miss Douglas +one bit,” said Carol. “Here’s Jean now, and +next time we’ll bring Cecily, and some day when +you feel <em>very</em> well, you may find the whole +twenty of us coming to call. Will you let +us in?” +</p> + +<p> +“’S ma’am,” said Limpy, but she looked +overawed at the thought. +</p> + +<p> +Carol settled herself in the chair that +Douglas had brought her, and tried again. “I +never saw such lovely daisy fields as you have +here,” said she. “Jean thought you’d like +some daisies.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean, thus prodded, laid her flowers silently +on Limpy’s pillow,—as if she were laying them +<a id="page-149" class="pagenum" title="149"></a> +on Juliet’s bier, so Carol told her afterwards. +A weak “Thank you!” was heard, and the +ghost of a smile flickered over the wan face. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas winked at Jean, then at the invalid. +“Come on, Limpy,—look pleasant!” said he, +impersonating a photographer. “Here, hold +your bouquet,—that’s the ticket! Now let’s +stick a daisy over your ear. There! now you +look stunning!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ain’t you silly!” Limpy murmured softly, +the ghost of a smile turning to a real one +at last. +</p> + +<p> +Then Douglas presented Carol with her +mandolin, saying, “Miss Carol’s going to sing +for you; isn’t that great!” Carol took the +mandolin from its case, and the tired eyes +brightened with expectancy. Douglas picked +up his pail. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s something Mrs. Brook sent you. +Feel like some pork and beans?” he inquired, +and carried the pail into the kitchen to unpack +the ice cream. +</p> + +<p> +Jean shot after him. “Douglas, I’m scared +to death!” she declared. “I don’t know what +to say to her. I know she doesn’t want me +here. I think she’s mad I came.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she’s not,” said Douglas, “but she’s +scared worse than you are,—that’s what’s the +matter with her. She thinks you’re ‘city +people.’ She’s awfully shy, but I didn’t +<a id="page-150" class="pagenum" title="150"></a> +think she’d be quite so bad. Say—you take +this ice cream in to her,—then you’ll make +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, do give me <em>something</em> to do,” said +Jean piteously. She took the bowl, and +Douglas a spoon. As they turned back they +heard Carol singing a Southern mammy’s +lullaby. Carol had a sweet, rich-toned voice, +and they found Limpy all attention, a light in +her face, and the dull lifeless look quite gone. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” said Douglas, as Carol paused. +“That’s the real thing, isn’t it, Limpy?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s <em>elergant</em>!” she replied rapturously. +</p> + +<p> +Then Jean presented the strawberry ice +cream. “Here’s something nice,” she said +shyly. “I’ll hold it for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—thank you!” said Limpy eagerly. +“Don’t you want some, too?” she timidly +asked her guests. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you. We’ve had ours already,” +she was assured, and she took a first delectable +spoonful. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awful good!” she said with a sigh of +bliss. +</p> + +<p> +Limpy feasted to music, for the lullaby was +followed by <em>Comin’ through the Rye</em> and <em>Anne +Laurie</em>, for the benefit of the Scotch laddie who +was beating time on the invalid’s foot. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s enough now. I don’t want to tire +you,” said Carol. But Limpy protested: “Oh, +<a id="page-151" class="pagenum" title="151"></a> +no, ma’am! I couldn’t never get tired o’ +music! I play the accordion when I feel good, +but I’d rather play <em>that</em> thing, an’ sing.” So +the clear voice rang out again, this time in +joyous Easter melodies. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we’re going to cool you off beautifully,” +said Carol, at last, laying down her mandolin. +“Douglas, you take that chair. You +take the quilt and pillow, Jean, and I’ll take +Limpy, and we’ll set her out under the trees +where it’s nice and breezy.” +</p> + +<p> +A very much surprised Limpy was presently +reclining in an armchair under the shady +maples. “Oh, ain’t it nice out here!” said the +poor little white blossom that had been withering +indoors. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I’m going to braid your hair in two +dear little pigtails,” said Carol. “It must +make you so hot, hanging loose like that. +Come along, Douglas, show me where her room +is, please. I’ll have to get her comb. We’ll +keep out of the way for a while, and give Jean +a chance to make friends with her,” she explained, +as they went into the house. +</p> + +<p> +Jean, still tongue-tied with shyness, rolled +imploring eyes at the comrades deserting her, +and pulled a clover to pieces while her brain +whirled in a wild hunt. Wonder of wonders, +a thought came! “When you’re better, +Limpy,” said she, “wouldn’t you like to come +<a id="page-152" class="pagenum" title="152"></a> +up to the camp and see some of our fun? +Douglas could take you out on the lake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’d love to!” said Limpy wistfully. +“But I don’t feel like I’ll ever be well enough. +I have such bad spells with my heart, an’ I +can’t have Doctor no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why can’t you have the doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pa says he won’t pay no more doctor’s +bills.” +</p> + +<p> +“The mean—” Jean began, and stopped +short. Remembering Carol’s cheery way, she +said brightly, “Oh, but you’re going to get +well! Why, you look <em>ever</em> so much better than +when we came! And never mind if you can’t +get up to camp just yet, we can have lots of +nice times right here. I’ll come and read to +you whenever I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re awful good,” said Limpy, gratefully. +“I’ll be so lonesome, now Douglas is +goin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m lonely, too, sometimes, because I’m so +far away from home,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I wisht I had a sister,” said Limpy. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve always wished <em>I</em> had one,” said Jean. +“I’ll tell you what! Let’s play <em>we</em>’re sisters, +and then you won’t feel half so lonely.” +</p> + +<p> +Limpy opened her eyes to their widest. +“What do you mean?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I’ll pretend you’re my sister, and +<a id="page-153" class="pagenum" title="153"></a> +come and see you just as often as I can; and +when I go back to school I’ll write letters to +you and tell you all about the girls, and all we +do. And you must write to <em>me</em> too. And +we’ll sign our letters, ‘Your loving sister.’ +Then you won’t feel all alone, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +When Carol came back, having put the small +coop of a bedroom to rights, she found Jean +sitting on the arm of the chair, chattering like +a magpie, and Limpy laughing merrily as she +held Jean’s hand. And when her visitors had +to go, Limpy made Douglas gather them each +a bouquet of very stiff flowers from the little +old-fashioned overgrown garden. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, chickabiddy,” said Carol. +“We’ll run in to-morrow and see if you’re +behaving yourself, and if we find you hiding +away indoors again, we’ll pick you right +straight up and put you out to play in the +daisies.” She gave her a pat and a kiss. +</p> + +<p> +“Bye-bye,—Sister,” said Jean. Holding +out the neat pigtails, one in each hand, she +kissed the face between them, and Limpy put +her arms around Jean’s neck and gave her a +soft little grateful hug. +</p> + +<p> +“Jeanie, Queenie, no fear your majesty +won’t conquer the world!” said Carol as they +went back to camp. “You came out gloriously! +I’m so glad you dragged this lazy-bones +<a id="page-154" class="pagenum" title="154"></a> +off this afternoon. Poor little dear! +I’m going down to give her a concert whenever +I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, will you, Miss Carol!” said Douglas +eagerly. “We’ll have her cured up in less +than no time, with music like that! It’s the +best <em>I</em> ever heard!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean walked along in a brown study. Suddenly +she said, “Limpy’s afraid she’ll never +get well, because her horrid old miser of a stepfather +won’t pay any more doctor’s bills. +Carolie, let’s have a <em>fair</em>, and raise money for +her so she can have the doctor whenever she +wants.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine idea, your majesty!” said Carol. +“Talk it up with your battle maids, and the +rest of us’ll help you. Only don’t let’s call +it a <em>fair</em>,—fairs were stale when Columbus +came over.” +</p> + +<p> +So the queen of the Silver Sword called +her maidens into counsel. +</p> + +<p> +“I know!” said Cecily. “Let’s have a +Forest Festival!” And she propounded a +plan that enchanted her friends. Around the +camp-fire that evening, a meeting of all the +summer sisters was held, and Cecily’s project +was adopted. By the time that Carol, who +was the camp bugler, had sounded <em>taps</em>, it had +been decided that Camp Huairarwee should +give a fair in July for the benefit of Stella +<a id="page-155" class="pagenum" title="155"></a> +Olympia Weeks, and that it should be of a +novel and strictly woodsy kind, called—as the +princess of the Scroll had suggested—“A +Forest Festival.” +</p> + +<p> +The days that followed were brimming over +with frolics and excursions; but the girls found +time to devote a part of each one to working +for the fair. There was much letter writing, +too, for supplies had to be ordered from home, +and petitions sent to their families and friends +to contribute wares. The battle maids who +had not come to camp were appealed to and +responded gallantly to their sovereign’s call. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Limpy, her listlessness all gone, +became the protégée of the Silver Sword, and +found warm friends in Cecily and Betty as +well as in Carol and Jean. Frances made one +call on her, sniffed the aroma of the parlor, +observed to Betty, “Don’t you hate that cabbagey +smell?” and declined to repeat the visit. +But even Frances worked for Cecily’s Forest +Festival. As for the queen herself, hardly +had she unsheathed the sword of Caritas in +behalf of the damsel in distress when she found +a chance to draw it in quite a new direction. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-15"> +<a id="page-156" class="pagenum" title="156"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XIII.</span><br> +PHILANTHROPISTS +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>I</span> BELIEVE this summer at Halcyon’s going +to beat the one I spent in France!” +Helen Westover made this assertion, as, ringed +about a flat rock, the campers were beginning a +beach-tea at Fairy Cove, where a bight of +silver sand held in its embrace an emerald bay. +“Just think of the short time we’ve been here, +and all the fun we’ve squeezed into it!” she +continued, “boating, and bathing and tramps +and picnics, a jolly fishing excursion yesterday, +and a <em>beach-tea</em> this evening!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget the straw-ride by moonlight,” +said Marion Gaylord. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor the Glorious Fourth, and the fireworks +at Hurricane,” added Carol, who was busy +stirring cocoa in the billy. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so rushed having a good time, I hardly +get a chance to look at my letters,” said +Nancy, pulling an unopened envelope from her +belt. “I’ll read this one after tea,—it isn’t +polite to read at table.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-157" class="pagenum" title="157"></a> +“Here comes the scrambled egg!—Hold out +your plates,” said Grace Gardner, advancing, +chafing-dish in hand. She and Winifred Russell +were the <em>chefs</em> on this occasion. +</p> + +<p> +Tin plates were held up for their doles of +scrambled egg, and tin cups to receive the +steaming cocoa. Cecily and Betty served the +lettuce sandwiches, and Jean and Frances the +jumbles; and a delightful supper party went +on while the sun sank low. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Nancy, read your letter,” said Mrs. +Brook, when the last jumble had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll dish-wash for both of us, Nan,” said +Carol. She gathered up Nancy’s plate, cup +and spoon, together with her own, and carried +them down to a convenient spot by the water’s +edge, where she was joined by the rest of the +dish-washing squad. +</p> + +<p> +Nancy opened her letter. “Girls, listen to +this,” said she to Helen and Marion, who with +Jean were employed near the rock-table, collecting +egg-shells and Japanese doilies. +“Here’s my deaconess aunt at me again to try +to make me good! I know she’s worried +about me, because she thinks I’m going to be +a giddy butterfly all my life! Now, Motherling,” +she added, turning to Mrs. Brook, +“you’ll have to tell me how to answer this.” +And she read: +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<a id="page-158" class="pagenum" title="158"></a> +<p class="addr"> +<em>My dearest Nancy</em>, +</p> + +<p> +You were a good girl to write to your auntie and +send her such a vivid description of the happy life at +Halcyon. Of course it set me to thinking how I could +make use of my niece. Now, Nan, please look about +and see if you cannot find a kind, motherly woman, +who would take a little girl of six to board for the +summer. She is a little Irish child. Her name is +Nanno Donohoe, and I must tell you how she comes +to be a protégée of mine. +</p> + +<p> +The first time I saw her she was fighting with a +small Italian boy, who had taken away her stick of +candy. He was a year or two older than she, but +Nanno was having the best of it when I separated +them. I calmed the baby fury, and was rewarded by +a most cherubic smile; and the next time I came that +way Nanno flew to meet me. Poor little mite! She +has a wretched home, and a worthless, intemperate +father; and her life is spent on the streets, where she +roams at her own sweet will. I am most anxious to +take the child out of her miserable surroundings for +the summer. She needs to be with some kind-hearted +woman who could give her a mother’s care; and if +such a person is to be found at Halcyon, I will bring +Nanno up there myself, for I start next Monday for +Lake Placid, where I am to spend part of my vacation. +I am hungry to see you again, Nan dear, and +I am sure that if you see my little Nanno she will win +your heart. I am going to ask you to help me, next +winter, by interesting yourself in her. +</p> + +<p> +I must say good-by, now, and go out on my round +<a id="page-159" class="pagenum" title="159"></a> +of visits. But you will let me hear from you early, +will you not? +</p> + +<p class="sign"> +Your loving aunt,<br> +<span class="sc">Mary Newcomb</span>. +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“No, Auntie, dearest, I will <em>not</em> do charity +work next winter! I’ll be entirely too busy +<em>coming out</em>!” Nancy protested. “But I’ll +try to hunt up a kind, motherly somebody. Do +you know of such an article, Mrs. Brook?” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little Nanno! I wish I did!” said +the camp-mother. “But you see there are so +few farms around here, and I know there’s +no good place for her in the village. Mrs. +Penfield is the only person I can think of whom +I would trust to take proper care of the +child,—and she has her hands full with her own +big family and her invalid mother. But we +won’t give up hope. I shall make every inquiry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should hate to tell Auntie I’m no good, as +usual,” said Nancy. “Oh, dear, if there ever +was a lazy, selfish, good-for-nothing little +brute, it’s Nancy Newcomb!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean had stopped clearing the premises to +listen to the letter. “Why can’t we have her +<em>here</em> with us?” she asked impetuously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean, don’t crowd any more of us on +poor Mrs. Brook!” said Nancy. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, dear,” said Mrs. Brook, “if I were +<a id="page-160" class="pagenum" title="160"></a> +alone here with Cecily, I would take the child +myself gladly. But, you see, I have twenty +daughters to look after. I shouldn’t have a +minute left for the care of Nanno!” +</p> + +<p> +“But <em>I</em> could take care of her!” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>You</em>, liebchen!” Fräulein exclaimed. “I +tink all de care vould come on <em>me</em>. I should +haff to keep your baby and you, too, from falling +into de lake!” She laughed and patted +Jean’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +Jean colored and said no more. Presently +she strolled off along the beach, deep in thought. +When she returned, the dish-washing was over, +and the girls had drawn up in a circle for games +and songs. +</p> + +<p> +“Dreamy Queenie, what is it,—a new poem?” +asked Carol, as the lone wanderer threw herself +down on the sand, with her head in her Big Sister’s +lap. But Jean did not care to discuss her +thoughts before so large an audience. +</p> + +<p> +A merry hour was passed, while the sun went +down and twilight fell; and when the evening +star shone forth the boats were launched and +the campers glided back in the gloaming. +</p> + +<p> +That night, as they were preparing for bed, +Jean opened her heart to her tent-mates about +Nanno Donohoe. “Now, girls,” she said, “I +have a perfectly fine plan! I’ve been wild to +tell you all the evening! Let’s adopt Nanno as +<a id="page-161" class="pagenum" title="161"></a> +the Silver Sword baby, and have her come here, +and take care of her all summer! She can sleep +right here in our tent,—there’s plenty of room +for an extra cot. And we’ll do everything for +her ourselves, so your mother won’t have any +bother at all, Cece.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s do it!” cried Frances. “It’ll be lots +of fun!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no! She’d be always tagging,” Betty +objected, wrinkling up her nose in distaste. +“And we couldn’t possibly make her mind. I +tried to manage my little cousin, once, and that +was enough, thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +“But all four of us together,” began Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“My, dear, we couldn’t do it!” Betty +declared. “What do <em>we</em> know about bringing +up children? Why we’re not much more than +children ourselves!” +</p> + +<p> +Cecily looked doubtful. “It would be ever +so nice if we <em>could</em> do such a thing,” said she. +“I love little tots! But I know just how it +would end. Mother’d simply take all the care +herself. She wouldn’t trust us to manage +right, and she’d worry for fear we were losing +our vacation, and she’d insist on doing it all, +and it would tire her out!” +</p> + +<p> +“But we wouldn’t let her, Cecily,” cried +Jean. “<em>We</em>’d insist on doing it all. We +wouldn’t let her tire herself one bit!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-162" class="pagenum" title="162"></a> +“We couldn’t help ourselves,—she’d do it +just the same,” said Cecily positively. “You +don’t know Mammykins as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +The argument lasted till they were in bed, but +neither could sympathy be awakened in Betty, +nor could Cecily, already beginning to share +her mother’s household cares, be brought +around to her queen’s point of view. +</p> + +<p> +“We could do it perfectly well, without your +mother having any bother at all, if you and +Betty had any gumption!” was Jean’s last remark +as, much disappointed, she settled herself +to sleep. “I’m going to talk about it to Carol +in the morning, anyway,” she thought, refusing +to give up all hope of carrying out her cherished +project. +</p> + +<p> +But next day, before Jean found a chance to +consult her, Carol, with several other girls, +drove off to Crystal Lake Junction to get some +necessary materials for the forest festival. +After the swimming hour, Jean caught Frances +making up her favorite “apple-pie beds” for +her tent-mates, and chased the Mouse out of +doors and into the woods. There the two +climbed into a tree where Douglas had set up +perches. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care!” said Jean, as they rested +among the green boughs. “I think it’s too +mean of Cece and Betty not to be willing to +have that poor little Nanno!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-163" class="pagenum" title="163"></a> +“I think so too,” agreed Frances, drawing a +cookie from the front of her sailor blouse. +</p> + +<p> +“She must be so dear,—just six!” Jean +went on. “We could take care of her perfectly +well. I could do it all myself,—I know I could. +I don’t care what Fräulein says! I’m going +to talk it up with Carol. I’ll tell her I’ll take +all the care if she’ll help get her up here, and +I’m sure she will—she’s so fond of children.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t need Carol. <em>I</em>’ll help you,” +said Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, will you, Miss Apple-pie Beds!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course I will. You needn’t think +<em>you</em>’re the only one that wants to do good, +Giraffe! <em>I</em> belong to the Silver Sword just as +much as you do! And I’m going to give up +my life to good works. I’ve always done <em>bad</em> +works before, but I’m going to <em>change</em>!” said +Frances solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! Much <em>you</em>’ll change!” laughed +Jean. Frances nibbled the edge of her cookie +with her front teeth, trimming off the circumference +neatly, and her face had a new expression—one +of serious intent. Suddenly her +black eyes danced. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean!” she cried. “I have a dandy +idea! Let’s club together, just you and me, +and write to Nancy’s aunt to send Nanno up! +We’ll pay for it all, and adopt her between +us.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-164" class="pagenum" title="164"></a> +Jean was suspicious as to the extent of her +maid-of-honor’s earnestness, but she needed a +helper; and to persuade Frances to do any Silver +Sword work at all would be in itself an +achievement. +</p> + +<p> +“Frisk, we can! Let’s do it!” she said. +“I know you just want to for a lark, but <em>I</em>’m +in dead earnest!” +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” said the Mouse gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you’ll club together with me, we +can do it as easy as anything,” said Jean. +“We can manage her perfectly, if you’ll behave +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” said Frances. “We must +keep it a dead secret till we have her here, and +then we’ll spring her on the crowd!” +</p> + +<p> +“We mustn’t do anything of the kind. +We’d get ourselves into an awful scrape! +We’ll have to ask permission, of course. I’m +going to speak to Mrs. Brook about it as soon +as she gets back from the Hamiltons’. Now +let’s count up and see if we have money +enough. I have four dollars, and I get five +more the first of August.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve spent all my allowance,” said Frances. +“But I have the money for my fare home again. +I’ll use that. They’ll have to send me some +more then,—they can’t leave me up here all +winter!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll have another five in September,” +<a id="page-165" class="pagenum" title="165"></a> +said Jean. “Why, Frisk, we’ll have a bouncing +fund! Now let’s get the letter written. +I’ll get some paper and a pen, and we can do +it all up right here!” Jean lowered herself +to the ground, and when she re-climbed the +tree Carol’s fountain pen was in her hair, and +a pad of note-paper between her teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe she’ll mind pad paper, do +you?” said she. “It was all I could find. +I’m sure deaconesses don’t care about silly little +things like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she’d <em>rather</em> have it plain,” said +Frances. “You’ll have to write it,—you’re +an author!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! How do I begin?” sighed Jean. +“I don’t know whether you ought to say, ‘Dear +Deaconess,’ or ‘Dear Miss Newcomb,’ or ‘Dear +Sister Mary.’ Aren’t deaconesses <em>Sisters</em>?” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to say, ‘Right Reverend,’” said +Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“You say ‘Right Reverend’ to <em>bishops</em>, +goose!” laughed Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I never spoke to a bishop,” said the Mouse. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll say, ‘Dear Deaconess.’ Here +goes!” and Jean wrote it down. “Um-m! +What now? We ought to tell her who we are, +oughtn’t we?” +</p> + +<p> +“Say ‘We are a Mouse and a Giraffe,’” said +Frances. Jean shrieked, then groaned. “Oh, +pshaw! The old pen’s leaked all over my +<a id="page-166" class="pagenum" title="166"></a> +fingers! Now, Frisk, behave yourself! This +is <em>serious</em>. If we don’t express it right, she’ll +think we’re babies, and she won’t trust us.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean frowned over her page, but was soon +ready with— +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="addr"> +<em>My dear Deaconess</em>, +</p> + +<p> +We are two of the girls of Mrs. Brook’s camp. We +are very sorry for poor little Nanno Donohoe. We +wish to have her come here, and we will keep her all +summer. We will take all the care of her and pay +her expenses, and I, Jean, will be responsible for her. +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Say, ‘And I, Frances, will make her my +heir,’” said the Mouse. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll put it in myself, then!” +</p> + +<p> +“You sha’n’t! Let go of the pen! Oh, now, +look! You made me blot it. Now don’t cut +up, but <em>think</em>! Let me see,—‘We send ten dollars +for her fare up.’” +</p> + +<p> +“No, child! That isn’t business-y a bit! +Say, ‘Enclosed please find.’” +</p> + +<p> +“That isn’t bad,” Jean assented, and she +wrote: +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="noindent"> +Enclosed please find ten dollars for her fare up. +Please be sure to let her come, for we promise to do +our very best to take good care of her. +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-167" class="pagenum" title="167"></a> +“How shall I finish it up? ‘Yours sincerely?’ +That doesn’t sound right to a deaconess. +I’ll say, ‘Respectfully yours.’” +</p> + +<p> +“No, say, ‘Your obedient servants,’” +Frances advised. +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am! Stop making fun of everything, +will you! There! Sign your name, and +don’t write ‘Frisky Mouse.’” +</p> + +<p> +“I <em>will</em>.” But instead, the Mouse discreetly +added, ‘Frances E. Browne’ to the ‘Jean Lennox.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now for the address,” said Jean. “I saw +the letter from the deaconess on Nan’s bed +when I went for the pen, and the address was +stamped on it.” They went down together to +examine the envelope, and Jean directed her +own, refusing to put ‘Rev.’ before ‘Deaconess +Newcomb,’ as Frances insisted was correct. +They set aside the ten dollars for Nanno’s +travelling expenses; then, leaving the letter on +Jean’s pincushion, they strolled out, talking +over their plan. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Motherling now, and Rose Hamilton. +I wonder what Rose has got in that big +basket,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s my contribution to the festival,” +called Rose. Jean ran to meet her, and together +they went into the bungalow to unpack +the basket. Frances, meanwhile, returned to +<a id="page-168" class="pagenum" title="168"></a> +her tent. Half an hour later Jean came out +and found Frances swinging in the hammock. +</p> + +<p> +“Frisk,” she said, “Let’s ask Motherling +right away.” +</p> + +<p> +“No use speaking <em>now</em>, because I’ve <em>sent</em> +it!” replied Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Sent the letter! Frances Browne! What +do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes’m, I’ve sent it,” said the Mouse. +“The grocer’s boy was here just now, so I put +in the ten dollars and gave it to him to mail. +We can’t get it back now—he was going right +down to the village.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frisky,—you sinner!” +</p> + +<p> +“We’d have been stopped off if I’d waited +for you to tell,” said Frances calmly. “I corrected +the address—I put in the ‘Rev.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Frances! You’ve spoiled it all! +She’ll think we’re idiots!” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Jean stared in dismay at her +colleague in good works; then she dropped down +on the grass in a spasm of hysterical laughter. +“I don’t care! I’m glad it’s gone!” she declared. +“They can’t have the heart to stop +her, now she’s invited!” Suddenly she grew +serious. “We’ll have a nice time, now, owning +up, Miss Mouse!” +</p> + +<p> +“If we have any sense we won’t own up till +she gets here,” the diplomatic Mouse responded. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-169" class="pagenum" title="169"></a> +“If we have any sense we’ll own up right +straight off!” said Jean. “We <em>must</em> tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, priggy! you make me sick and tired!” +said Frances. “We’re in the scrape, and for +pity’s sake let’s get a little fun out of it! +<em>I</em>’m not going to tell, anyway; and if you go +and say <em>I</em> mailed the letter, you’ll be mean!” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t say <em>you</em> mailed it. I’ll leave you +to speak for yourself, if you’re not too much +of a ’fraid-cat! I’ll say the letter got mailed, +and I’ll refuse to tell how.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t you suppose, if you go and say +that, they’ll guess who mailed it? They’ll +know a goody-goody like <em>you</em> wouldn’t do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“This isn’t goody-goody, child,—it’s common +sense!” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Nanno won’t get here, then—that’s +all there is about it!” declared Frances, anxious +to delay the hour of retribution. “Wait +till she gets here, and then here she <em>is</em>, and +they can’t pack her off home again!” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll pack <em>us</em> off, then!” said Jean. “I +can’t help it if they do stop her from coming,—it +would be downright sneaky not to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, priggetty-prig!” grumbled Frances, +but her sovereign was armed with the golden +shield of Veritas, and there was no altering +the royal decree. +</p> + +<p> +As Jean was turning away toward the bungalow +the carriage drove up, bringing home +<a id="page-170" class="pagenum" title="170"></a> +the party of shoppers. Carol alighted, to find +Jean with a knitted brow. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s happened to you, Queenie?” she +asked. “You look as if the cares of state were +too much for you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Carolie, I’m in an awful scrape,” whispered +Jean. She drew Carol to a safe nook +under the trees, and her confession, ending +with “and the letter got mailed,” sent her +friend off into a peal of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead, Queen of the Silver Sword!” +cried Carol. “You’re doing nobly! There +won’t be a corner of the world left to better, +pretty soon, if you keep on at this glorious +rate! Bring on your orphan asylum, and put +me in as assistant matron! <em>There</em>’s the person +that mailed the letter!” she added, pointing +to Frances, who was peeping around a +tree. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t think of anything but saving +that poor neglected child!” said Frances solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>You</em> couldn’t think of anything but scala-waggery!” +Carol retorted. “Well, you’re in +a pretty pickle, you two, but I’ll do my best +to help you out of it. Come along and throw +yourselves on the Motherling’s mercy!” She +escorted the culprits up to the bungalow veranda, +where their summer sisters and the camp-mother +were awaiting the call to dinner. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-171" class="pagenum" title="171"></a> +“Motherling, we have a confession to make,” +said Carol. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“The Queen of the Silver Sword wrote a letter,</p> + <p class="verse">All on a summer’s day.</p> + <p class="verse">The knave of the Silver Sword stole that letter,</p> + <p class="verse">And sent it far away!</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Out with it, your majesty!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Jean and Frances made a joint confession. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you monkeys!” exclaimed Nancy, +laughing till the tears rolled down her cheeks. +But Mrs. Brook looked grave. “My dear +children,” she said, “didn’t you know you +should have spoken to me before you even +<em>wrote</em> the letter? Frances, it was a great +breach of good manners to send off an invitation, +asking a guest to my house, without my +permission!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean turned scarlet, and Frances gazed +meekly at her shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s to be done about it?” asked +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be too bad to disappoint Miss +Newcomb now,” said Mrs. Brook. “But if +Nanno comes, Jean and Frances must take +care of her as they promised.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course! That’s what I meant to do,” +said Jean gratefully. “You won’t have one +bit of trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-172" class="pagenum" title="172"></a> +“Oh, my reverend aunt, won’t she be ecstatic!” +cried Nancy. “She’ll dance a horn-pipe +and say ‘that sweet Frances and Jean are +cut out for deaconesses!’” +</p> + +<p> +The camp-mother looked at the group of +laughing girls. “All the rest of my daughters +will be ready to welcome the little one, will +they not?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d be a pack of selfish old maids if we +weren’t!” said Carol. “It’ll be jolly to have +a little tottie like that to cuddle! Let’s have +her for our mascot! And let’s organize ourselves +into a regiment of nursery maids and +help along. I trust Francie-Prancie not to +wear herself out over her maternal cares, but +I’m afraid Queenie’ll work off the one pound +she’s gained. Come now,—all in favor of the +Camp Baby—!” Before she could finish the +formula seventeen merry voices came out with +a unanimous “Ay!” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-16"> +<a id="page-173" class="pagenum" title="173"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XIV.</span><br> +THE CAMP BABY +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>I</span><span class="postfirstchar">f</span> your majesty thinks Betty and I are going +to let you and Frisky take all the care of +Nanno, you’re mightily mistaken,” said +Cecily, when the adoption of Nanno Donohoe +had been agreed upon. “We’ll do half the +work, won’t we, Betsy? She’s going to be the +Silver Sword baby just as much as the Camp +Baby, isn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I suppose we’ll have to help +along,” said Betty lazily. “We’re in for it +now! But you won’t catch Frisk doing anything +except teach her monkey-shines,—I can +tell you that!” +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon, while the Mouse was listening +to a severe lecture from Fräulein Bunsen, +Nancy dispatched a letter to her aunt, endorsing +the invitation, and two days later Jean and +Frances received a note containing thanks that +came straight from Miss Newcomb’s grateful +heart. On the following Tuesday, the deaconess +said, she and her little charge would +reach Crystal Lake Junction, and before going +<a id="page-174" class="pagenum" title="174"></a> +on to Lake Placid she would give Nanno over to +her niece, who had promised to be there to meet +the Camp Baby. +</p> + +<p> +Tuesday came, and just before tea-time +Jean, Betty, Cecily and Frances were strolling +up and down, watching impatiently for the arrival +of the carriage with Miss Hamersley, +Nancy and the little guest of Camp Huairarwee. +Presently Jean’s cry, “They’re coming!” +brought together a welcoming group of +girls. +</p> + +<p> +The carriage stopped in front of the bungalow. +“Here’s your baby!” said Douglas who +was driving. “She’s been asleep most of the +way over. Wake up, Nanno!” He dropped +the reins and lifted a bundle which had been +lying half on the front seat and half on his lap. +A small face became visible, and they heard a +sleepy sigh and murmur. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a perfect love!” said Nancy, springing +down from the back seat. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll get down and lift her out,” said +Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ll take her!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, give her to <em>me</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, no, give her to <em>me</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +Carol, Eunice and Marion, who stood nearest, +all stretched out their arms at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we go, baby! That’s the way!” +And Douglas put Nanno into the nearest pair +<a id="page-175" class="pagenum" title="175"></a> +of arms, which happened to be Carol’s. “I’ll +carry her in for you,” he said, jumping down. +“No, no, you sha’n’t have her!” returned +Carol. “Oh, you baby-kitten! You darling, +little, sleepy thing!” She carried Nanno into +the bungalow, the other girls following, and +the living-room at once became the scene of +homage. +</p> + +<p> +Carol seated herself in an armchair with +Nanno on her lap, and Cecily and Jean went +down on their knees before the wicker throne. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t she the duckiest!” said Nancy. +“Now we’ll have Big Nan and Little Nan!” +and down she knelt too. The others pressed +as close as they could, and there, amid her +cluster of admirers, Nanno awoke. +</p> + +<p> +Various had been the portraits of the camp +baby drawn by the fancy of the girls; but no +one had pictured Nanno as she really was,—a +perfect little <em>Mavourneen</em>. She had long +black lashes, and they lifted and fell and lifted +again, showing the company two big Irish blue +eyes. Her thick black hair tumbled about her +neck in waves and rings. She had a bewitching +noselet, a wide rosy mouth with dimples +at the corners, and a dimple in her pretty chin. +Her cheeks were flushed from her nap, and her +skin had a lovely baby softness,—for not even +six years of life in the midst of dirt and neglect +had been able to destroy the bloom of +<a id="page-176" class="pagenum" title="176"></a> +this little Irish flower. Mavourneen stretched +her arms and yawned and sat up, blinking at the +strange world into which she had awakened. +The corners of her mouth went up in the sunniest +fashion, her dimples grew deeper, and +then a soft, little, musical voice inquired, +“Where’s de feller?” +</p> + +<p> +“The fellow who brought you here?” asked +Carol. “Why, he’s gone to take the horse to +bed, but you’ll see him again to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Nanno tipped her head on one side. “He’s +awful nice,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“You little coquette!” cried Carol, giving +her a squeeze. +</p> + +<p> +Nanno saw people laughing and concluded +that this new world was at least a cheerful +one. Her smile broadened, and she gave a +chuckle. Then she nestled her head back in +the hollow of Carol’s shoulder, looked up with +her happy blue eyes and asked, “Is you Miss +Jean?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sweetheart, I’m Miss Carol. <em>That</em>’s +Miss Jean, and that’s Miss Frances. They’re +giving the money so you can be here. Isn’t +that lovely of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’re going to have a fine time, +Nanno, and lots and lots of fun,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Nanno, you are my daughter,” said +Frances. “You must call me Mother Browne.” +<a id="page-177" class="pagenum" title="177"></a> +But Nanno declined with a gentle shake of her +head. “Ah, g’wan! I’m me own mommer’s +goil,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re our baby, though, you precious +lamb. You’re the Camp Baby!” said Cecily, +and an indignant little voice remonstrated, “I +<em>ain’t</em> a baby! I’m six, goin’ on siven!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get that pretty dress, +Nanno?” asked Marion. +</p> + +<p> +“De Sister give it to me. She gimme lots +o’ clo’s yisterday. See me new shoes, an’ me +hat,—an’ me cawt, ain’t it lovully!” +</p> + +<p> +“Beautiful!” they assured her. +</p> + +<p> +Amelie, the little Canadian waitress, came +in just then with a tray. “I bring de bébé +she’s supper. I tink she lak to have heem +now,” said she in her odd Canuck dialect. +</p> + +<p> +“Let <em>me</em> give her her supper,” said Jean. +“I want to make friends with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you give her her supper, I’ll put +her to bed,” said Betty, who had lost her heart +the instant those big blue eyes had looked into +hers. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll dress her in the morning,” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“I can dress mesilf an’ me baby too! I +don’t need nobody to dress <em>me</em>,” said Nanno. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s your baby? Your little brother?” +asked Eunice, and the musical voice cried, +“Sure!” +</p> + +<p> +Carol set the independent little woman in a +<a id="page-178" class="pagenum" title="178"></a> +chair at the table before the tray of cream +toast, milk, and sugared raspberries; and while +the others went off to prepare for their own +supper Jean and Cecily stayed to wait upon +Nanno. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s dis?” the little girl inquired, and +she looked critically at the contents of her soup +plate. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nice milk-toast. There’s your +spoon. Now see how good it is,” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +Nanno took a generous mouthful and ate it +thoughtfully, after which she plunged her spoon +into the raspberries. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, eat your toast first, dear!” Cecily remonstrated. +Nanno peacefully swallowed her +berries almost whole and took another spoonful +of her dessert. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you like your toast?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Nope,” replied Nanno. Then, with a smile +which said “But be consoled, my friends,” she +added, “I like <em>thim</em>,” and shovelled up another +spoonful of raspberries. +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ll like your toast with lots of +<em>sugar</em> on it!” said Jean, and the despised dish, +thickly snowed over, agreed with Nanno’s +palate. +</p> + +<p> +“You want to drink your milk too, dear,” +Cecily reminded her, and she held up the glass +invitingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I drink <em>tea</em>!” said Nanno. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-179" class="pagenum" title="179"></a> +“Tea!” exclaimed Jean. “Why, Nanno, +that’s dreadful for you! It’ll make you grow +all yellow like a Chinaman!” +</p> + +<p> +Nanno did not seem alarmed, for she proudly +informed them, “Me baby drinks tea too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your baby brother!” gasped Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Horrors! how old is he?” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Five munts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wive months, and drinks tea!” Jean fairly +shrieked. “Why, Cece, won’t he kill himself?” +</p> + +<p> +“He might as well take poison!” declared +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any other little brothers or sisters?” +asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Me sister Katy.” +</p> + +<p> +“How old’s Katy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dunno. She’s dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, is she dead? Poor little Katy!” Jean +was disconcerted to have brought up a family +sorrow; but Nanno seemed to find pleasure in +reminiscence. +</p> + +<p> +“She died of ammonia,” she explained, +Jean and Cecily looked at each other and bit +their lips. +</p> + +<p> +“We had a wake an’ candles!” Nanno went +on. “It was awful pretty! An’ I rode in a +carriage to the funeral! I like funerals.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cunning thing!” laughed Jean. +“<em>You</em> didn’t have ‘ammonia,’ did you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nope,” said Nanno regretfully, and added +<a id="page-180" class="pagenum" title="180"></a> +brightening, “But me toofs is fallin’ out!” +She opened her mouth and displayed a hole +being filled up with a coming white tooth. Then +she fell into a revery over her toast. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think she’s getting h-o-m-e-s-i-c-k?” +asked Jean anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I think she’s only sleepy,” replied +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’ll get the d-o-l-l, anyway,” said +Jean. She ran to their tent and came back +with the doll, to buy which a ten-miles drive +had been taken. It was the largest the shop +had afforded,—a staring blonde, in a scarlet +dress and toque made by Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Aw! ain’t she lovully!” Nanno jumped +down from her chair and received the gay +beauty into her arms. She cuddled it, gazed +at it, kissed it, and talked to it in her soft +brogue, her smile stretching nearly to her little +pink ears, and nothing less than love-light in +her blue eyes. “Aw, look at her shoes! Look +at her stockin’s! Aw, she’s got a petticawt +wid lace!” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to name her?” asked +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Katy,” replied Nanno promptly. “She’s +goin’ to have a wake an’ lots an’ lots of candles!” +</p> + +<p> +But Nanno was too sleepy to hold a <em>wake</em> +that night, and the black lashes were dropping +<a id="page-181" class="pagenum" title="181"></a> +again by the time that Betty and Frances, +Nancy and Carol, came to put her to bed in +the tiny bedroom of the bungalow where +Amelie, too, was to sleep and be the night-guardian +of the camp baby. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s as good as gold. We’re not going +to have a bit of trouble with her,” said Betty, +the Sandman having rendered Nanno a docile +cherub. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a little rascal!” was Jean’s verdict, +however, when she and Cecily had labored for +nearly an hour over their baby’s toilet the next +morning. Nanno had awakened with opinions +of her own, strongly prejudiced against the +cold sponge bath to which Jean tried to entice +her; firmly resolved to dress herself without +assistance, and vehemently objecting to having +a comb brought in contact with her tangled +curls. +</p> + +<p> +“Nanno, which would you rather be? A nice, +clean, pretty little girl, or a piggy?” Jean had +solemnly demanded, and Nanno’s unhesitating +choice had been the “piggy.” Alas, for the +queen of the Silver Sword and her bright dream +of bringing up a daughter of the order! Alas, +for the princess of the Treasure, who had triumphantly +robed the camp baby in her nightgown, +and who, before twenty-four hours were +over, was reduced to offering bribes of cookies +and fudge to bring Nanno to obedience! +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-182" class="pagenum" title="182"></a> +It soon became clear that the one person in +the whole camp of whom Nanno stood in awe, +the only one for whose mandates she cared a +pin, was Mrs. Brook. For her own lawful guardians, +and the regiment of nursery maids, she +had no reverence whatever. Jean, Cecily and +Betty coaxed, pleaded and threatened. Little +Miss Independence listened with her head on +one side, dimpling mouth, and roguery in her +eyes, and proceeded to carry out her own little +plans unless withheld by main force. Frances +looked on at the struggles of her friends with +the serenity of a Buddha, always ready to encourage +them with: “If at first you don’t succeed, +try, try again!” but shamelessly refusing +to take her share of the good work, though Jean +scolded, and even shook the faithless co-guardian. +</p> + +<p> +Jean’s cares might have proved too much for +even her determined spirit, if Mrs. Brook had +not come to the rescue and provided Nanno +with a companion of suitable age. Little +Leila Myra Penfield, who lived on a farm near +by,—received a standing invitation to come to +the camp and play with Nanno. Leila Myra +quickly succumbed to Mavourneen’s tyranny, +and acted as if the little Irish witch had cast +a spell upon her; for no matter how often +she departed in tears, leaving Nanno victorious +after a quarrel, she was back again the +<a id="page-183" class="pagenum" title="183"></a> +next day. The two children had gone to housekeeping +under the trees one hot afternoon. +Eunice, reading in the hammock near by, heard +an indignant “Le’ go! It’s mine!” and looked +up to see the six-year-old hostess and her guest +fighting for the possession of the doll’s go-cart. +She went to arbitrate, but Nanno met her argument +that Leila Myra was <em>company</em>, with the +counter-argument, “De go-cart’s <em>mine</em>!” So +Eunice knelt down with an arm around each +claimant and explained the Golden Rule in alluring +terms. “And now,” she ended, “we’ll +see which little girl is going to have the pleasure +of giving up to the other.” She returned +to her book confident that there would henceforth +be harmony. Presently a pitiful wail, followed +by the rattling of the go-cart, made her +glance up again. Leila Myra was retiring in +tears to the kitchen, to be consoled by Amelie, +and Nanno was gleefully cantering along dragging +her property after her. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Unie, dear!” called the camp baby. +“Leila Myra’s had the pleasure of givin’ up +to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t she as good as a circus!” said Nancy, +when Eunice reported her success as a peacemaker +to her tent-mates. +</p> + +<p> +The mist hung over the lake, and the hills +were looking out of cloud-blankets the next +morning when, soon after dawn, Miss Hamersley +<a id="page-184" class="pagenum" title="184"></a> +stood on the shore with the four battle +maids, watching Douglas and Jack, each with +a guide-boat, pulling for the dock. They were +to row to the foot of Eagle Cliff and climb the +hill in time to see the sunrise. Miss Hamersley, +Frances and Cecily put off in Jack’s boat, +and Jean and Betty followed with Douglas. +Jean had just taken up the long green paddle +to steer, when they heard a gleeful little shout +from the land. Looking back they saw a scarlet-robed +fairy dancing gaily down the bank. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Nanno!” groaned Jean and Betty +together. +</p> + +<p> +Nanno it was, arrayed in the red flannel +wrapper laboriously made for her by her guardians, +and carrying her doll now divested of +clothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Pug-nose!” called Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Nanno, go back! Go right straight back to +bed again!” cried Jean in desperation. “Oh, +bother! I’ll have to take her back myself!” +</p> + +<p> +“Katy’s goin’ bathin’!” shouted Nanno, +trotting down to the pebbly strand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nanno! Go back! Don’t go into the +water!—Oh, there she goes! Douglas, take +me back quick!” Douglas backed water, but +before they reached the shore the mischief was +done. Nanno had waded out into the ripples, +letting the skirt of her wrapper trail in the lake +as she conscientiously ducked her child. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-185" class="pagenum" title="185"></a> +“Oh, look at that little rascal! Now I can’t +go at all!” said Jean. “I’ll have to get her +dressed as quick as I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ll stay home and dress her this time,” +said Betty. “It’s my turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“You sha’n’t do it! I promised I’d take care +of the little bother and I’m going to!” answered +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll row around a little and come back +for you when you’ve dressed Pug,” said +Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“No—there’s no use my trying to go anywhere, +now she’s awake. You’ll have to go +without me,” returned Jean petulantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Katy’s gettin’ nice an’ clean, now,—she +was awful dirty!” said Nanno, as the boat hit +the dock. +</p> + +<p> +“You naughty little monkey! I don’t see +why you couldn’t have stayed asleep!” +grumbled Jean. “Oh, dear, look at your wrapper! +It’s soaking! And you’ve spoiled your +nice worsted slippers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dey ain’t spiled,—dey’ll dry,” Nanno assured +her placidly. Jean led her up to the bungalow +with the air of an irate nursery-maid, +but Nanno was in a joyous humor, and proved +it by all sorts of antics while she was being +dressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now stand still and don’t hop! I can’t +button a thing! Nanno, if you don’t behave +<a id="page-186" class="pagenum" title="186"></a> +this minute, I’ll tell Mrs. Brook!” Jean threatened. +Nanno paused on one foot, her head +cocked sidewise. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Nanno, if you’ll only be good, I’ll tell +you a lovely fairy-story as soon as you’re +dressed,” pleaded Jean. And Nanno yielded +to bribery. +</p> + +<p> +Jean soon had her charge dressed and munching +gingersnaps. “Tell me the story now,” +said the child as they strolled out hand in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,—I will,” answered Jean. “Let +me see—.” She gazed up at the sky where the +silver mist was giving place to rosy clouds. +“I’ll tell you about the Sunrise Fairies. See +that great pink cloud, Nanno! That’s the +house where the fairies of the sunrise live.” +And her good humor returned as she invented +a tale about the elfin children who played in +the sunrise palace, and sailed through the sky +in beautiful cloud boats. +</p> + +<p> +“Dey sell ice-pie up dere,” Nanno interrupted, +with a yearning for the products of +the New York push-carts. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, they don’t! But they have lovely +pink cloud ice cream.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me an’ you’s goin’ to live up dere,” said +Nanno, when the story was over. “When we +get dere, I’ll give you a pink kiss!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Babykins, what’s a pink kiss?” Jean +asked. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-187" class="pagenum" title="187"></a> +“It’s de best kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ll give me one? How beautiful!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yis, an’ I’m goin’ to give Miss Francie a +lovully red kiss!” said Nanno, who had a profound +admiration for the Mouse. “An’ I’ll +give Miss Cecy a blue one.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what will you give Miss Betty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dest a white one,—dat’s good enough +for <em>her</em>.” Nanno had found Betty less long-suffering +than Cecily and Jean. “I’ll give +Douglas a red kiss, an’ a blue kiss, an’ a yeller +kiss,—an’ a <em>green</em> kiss!” she added, loyal to +the color of the shamrock. “An’ I’ll give <em>Fryline</em> +a ugly <em>black</em> kiss!” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Fräulein!” laughed Jean, recalling +the little teacher’s endeavors to discipline the +spoilt pet of the camp. “Aren’t you going to +give anybody but me a <em>pink</em> kiss?” +</p> + +<p> +Nanno shook her head. “Nope; dey’s all +for you, ’cause I love you <em>best</em>.” At this +Jean hugged the giver of kisses till she wriggled +herself free. It was worth losing the sunrise +excursion to find that she had won Mavourneen’s +heart. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-17"> +<a id="page-188" class="pagenum" title="188"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XV.</span><br> +A MIDSUMMER DAY’S DREAM +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">he</span> Forest Festival came off a few +days after Nanno had become an inmate +of Camp Huairarwee. The letters appealing +for contributions had been answered by the arrival +of mysterious packages which kept the +girls in constant excitement; and on the eve +of the great event two donations from unexpected +sources were handed in. +</p> + +<p> +“Look what Leila Myra’s mother made for +us!” said Jean, running up to Carol and displaying +a worsted disk crocheted in various +inharmonious shades of green, and adorned +with a woolly border of loops. +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth is it?” asked Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“A lamp mat,” replied Jean. “Isn’t it <em>excruciating</em>! +It sets my teeth on edge! Oh, +dear!” she laughed. “I nearly broke my shield +of truth trying to send a nice polite message +of thanks. I <em>couldn’t</em> say it was pretty, but I +said it was just right for the festival, because +it was green, like moss. That was true, I’m +sure!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-189" class="pagenum" title="189"></a> +“A lamp mat!” Carol repeated. “Lamp +capsizer, I should say, with that hummocky border! +Let’s put it on the fern table and label +it, ‘Moss from the Penfield Farm.’” +</p> + +<p> +Limpy herself had been deeply interested in +the coming festival, little suspecting for whom +its proceeds were intended. When Jean and +Cecily paid her a call that afternoon she showed +them a quaint little box, covered with small +fir-cones interspersed with acorns, and the whole +varnished over till it shone. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s for the festival,” she said shyly. +“Douglas made me the box an’ got the cones +an’ acorns, an’ I put ’em on. Do you like +it?” She looked up anxiously. Jean and +Cecily were able to pronounce the offering “too +dear for anything,” without risk to their golden +shields, and Limpy colored with pleasure at +the compliments her handiwork received. +</p> + +<p> +“A Midsummer Day’s Dream”—that was +what Dr. Hamilton named the Forest Festival, +to which all the other campers on the lake and +the guests from Halcyon Inn came flocking the +following afternoon, and from which they went +away laden with all sorts of woodland trophies. +The visitors came by boat and canoe; and when +they had paid their admittance fees to Douglas, +who was stationed on the landing, the first hostesses +to welcome them to the forest fairy-land +were two water-nymphs, who sat at the entrance +<a id="page-190" class="pagenum" title="190"></a> +of a grotto, an inviting little nook in +the rocks above the beach. Both were crowned +with wreaths of pond-lilies in full bloom, and +their bare necks and arms were adorned with +chains and bracelets of lily stems. Their hair +flowed loose over their shoulders, and the +nymph with the long dark locks and the deep +blue eyes wore a robe white as the foam on the +crest of a wave; while her sunny-haired, hazel-eyed +sister was all in sea-green, which surely +meant that she had come up from the waters +of Huairarwee bay. +</p> + +<p> +Jean and Cecily had taken nymph-hood on +themselves, to serve orange and raspberry ice +and lemonade, and they kept these appropriately +watery delicacies in the cool depths +of their grotto. Most beguiling lorelei they +proved themselves. Of the guests that they +lured to their retreat some returned a second, +one or two even a third time, and every +now and then a white nymph or a green one +would come flying up to the kitchen (where +Marie the cook and her daughters, Amelie and +Toinette, were busy over large freezers) and +call “<em>More ice, please!</em>” +</p> + +<p> +Two fairies, the Fern Fairy and the Fruit +Fairy, held sway on the top of the bank. Betty +was the Fern Fairy; great plumy ferns covered +her white dress, and her rosy face smiled +at her customers from under a wreath of maidenhair. +<a id="page-191" class="pagenum" title="191"></a> +Before her was a rustic table covered +with a bank of moss; and set forth on the green +counter were birch-bark ferneries, big and little, +filled with moss and ferns, with scarlet +bunch-berries and partridge-berries to give +them a tinge of brightness. Frances, the +Fruit Fairy, was literally overgrown with +blackberry and strawberry vines from her neck +to the hem of her skirt; and on her head was +a thimble-berry crown, the fruit itself, ripe and +crimson, peeping out from under its leaves. +Like Betty she had a rustic table covered with +moss, but her wares were blueberries, huckleberries, +wild raspberries, and even a few belated +strawberries, to be sold in their birch-bark +baskets, or served in saucers with sugar +and cream. +</p> + +<p> +The older girls had transformed themselves +into trees. In a leafy booth stood Eunice, +Nancy, Grace and Winifred, their peaked caps, +their belts and the trimmings of their white +gowns made of the bark of the golden and the +silver birch. Eunice and Nancy represented +golden birches. Eunice, with her fair hair fluffing +out from under her shining yellow headdress, +was a tall and stately tree, and Nancy +was the breeziest little sapling that ever grew. +Grace and Winifred were the silver birches. +The four girls had charge of a table on which +was displayed every imaginable device in birch +<a id="page-192" class="pagenum" title="192"></a> +bark, from glove-boxes to napkin rings; and +they also carried on a brisk traffic in Mrs. +Brook’s home-made birch beer. +</p> + +<p> +Near by, where the evergreens made a natural +bower, stood a table laden with balsam +cushions, a variety of fancy articles and samples +of the girls’ own wood-carving. The pine +trees and the balsams presided over it. Helen +and Marion were the pine trees; tufts of pine +needles formed their garlands and, together +with cones, trimmed their dresses. Ruth and +Dorothy were the balsams, wearing wreaths +and ruffles of spicy balsam foliage; and it was +Ruth, who, having exhibited Limpy’s box and +told the story of its making, sold it to a sympathetic +old gentleman for the extravagant +price of five dollars. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a booth of beech and elder boughs. +Here were Hope and Olive, graceful young +beeches, and Katrina and Louise, their gowns +decked with clusters of scarlet elderberries. +At their table the classic beech leaf and glowing +elderberry appeared, painted by the camp +artists, Marion and Cecily, on dinner cards and +blotters, paper folders and picture frames, and +embroidered on dainty pieces of needlework. +</p> + +<p> +Gladys, Ethel and Pamela, with their leafy +trimmings and coronets, were pronounced the +sweetest of sugar maples, and very popular was +<a id="page-193" class="pagenum" title="193"></a> +<em>their</em> booth, for their wares were delicious +maple-sugar cakes and candies. +</p> + +<p> +But the queen of the whole forest was Carol, +the Christmas tree, and to her all the children +made an instantaneous rush, on landing. The +top of a baby spruce reared itself above her +sunny chestnut curls; sprays cut from spruce +saplings adorned her bodice and made her broad +collar. Branches rayed out from her skirt just +as the boughs of a good old Christmas tree +should spread; and she shone resplendent with +chains and balls of colored glass and showers +of tinsel. At her feet was a basket full of toys +and nicknacks wrapped up in red tissue paper, +and being a most ungenerous and mercenary +tree, she allowed no gift to be drawn until ten +cents had been dropped into the Christmas +stocking that she held. +</p> + +<p> +Flitting hither and thither, and much enamored +of the Christmas tree, was Nanno, +who had changed her name to Black-eyed +Susan. She was dressed in bright yellow +paper petals, and wore a gigantic paper black-eyed-susan +for a hat. The basket she carried +was filled with wild flowers—daisies, feathery +meadow-rue and early asters; and her irresistible +Irish eyes and brogue, as she announced +that her posies were “foive cints a bunce,” +caused her wares to vanish so early that she +<a id="page-194" class="pagenum" title="194"></a> +ran in tears to the sea-nymphs, and had to be +consoled with raspberry ice. +</p> + +<p> +With fairies and nymphs and lovely tree +maidens to welcome them, it was no wonder +that the guests who attended the Forest Festival +awoke from their “Midsummer Day’s Dream” +to find their arms full of parcels and their +purses light. Court was destined to awake +absolutely penniless. He bought souvenirs +from every table; he would have had far more +than his share of toys had not the Christmas +tree warded him off with a prickly branch; and +he kept sending back his sherbet glass to be +refilled with ices till Cecily declared: “You +sha’n’t have another spoonful, or there won’t +be any left for other people! You’re worse +than Jack!” His sister Rose, beholding his increasing +bundles, ironically inquired whether +he expected their great-aunt, Miss Van Courtlandt, +to pay his bills for him; but her sarcasm +only incited him to purchase the Penfield lampmat. +</p> + +<p> +“My, oh, my! That’s the thing to bring a +tip from Aunt Sarah!” Court exclaimed, lifting +the woolly green horror from Betty’s fern table. +“I’ll send it to her for a present, and tell her I +made it for her! Now I can afford to spend my +last ten cents on the Christmas tree! Hooray! +I’ll be a millionaire!” +</p> + +<p> +Court went home with the lamp mat pinned +<a id="page-195" class="pagenum" title="195"></a> +on his coat for a rosette. He paid Camp +Huairarwee another call, however, as the twilight +was falling and the girls were watching for +Douglas to return after his supper to build their +camp-fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas will be a little late this evening,” +said Court. “He had something to attend to, +so I thought I’d offer my services to start your +fire. Have you counted up the money yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Jean answered triumphantly, “and +we’ve cleared seventy-three dollars and forty-nine +cents! Of course we raised it to seventy-five.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said Court. “Now, when I’m hard +up I can borrow from Miss Stella Olympia.” +</p> + +<p> +To celebrate their success he made alarming +inroads on Mrs. Brook’s woodpile, and built +the girls a magnificent bonfire. The flames +were just beginning to leap high, when Jean, +glancing out over the lake, exclaimed, “For +pity’s sake what <em>is</em> that <em>creature</em>?” +</p> + +<p> +The others followed her gaze. An extraordinary +and gigantic monster, shadowy and +mysterious in the dusk, had entered the bay +and was swimming toward their beach. +</p> + +<p> +“What under the moon and canopy!” cried +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the weirdest thing I ever saw in my +life!” said Marion. “It’s positively scary!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s alive!” cried Betty. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-196" class="pagenum" title="196"></a> +“It’s spouting fire!” exclaimed Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a fiery dragon! It is! It is!” cried +Jean. “Look at its snaky tail!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear!” Frances, lamented. “I’m +going to be gobbled up, and my mammy and my +daddy won’t know what’s become of me! I +knew I was too good to live!” +</p> + +<p> +“It has a dorsal fin!” said Nancy. “Girls, +it’s a sea-serpent!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, joy!” said Carol. “The plesiosaurus +has been sighted at last by creditable witnesses! +He’s a cultured and enlightened +plessy, with a fire in his jaws to roast us +nicely before he swallows us.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a vertebrate, whatever else he is!” +said Eunice. “There’s a spinal column for +you!” +</p> + +<p> +The colossal vertebrate was fully a hundred +feet long, and to the eyes of the girls his +jointed tail looked at least twice that length. +He had a superb dorsal fin, and his monstrous +head was upreared high above the water. His +eyes shone with red fire, his jaws were thrown +wide, and he was breathing out flames and +smoke. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s glaring at us with his fiery eyes!” +said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a sea-serpent with a vengeance!” +said Helen. “Look! He’s turning this way! +He’s making straight for us!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-197" class="pagenum" title="197"></a> +“A real sea-serpent! How jolly!” cried +Cecily. “We’ll get Court to tame him, and +have him for a pet! Court’s so set up by his +conquest of Cyclone, I know he’ll do it for us! +Break him to twenty side-saddles, Court, won’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease, Cece, babbling Brook!” replied +Court. “You little know what this appearance +means for you campers! Don’t you +realize that this sea-serpent proves an underground +connection between Halcyon Lake and +the ocean? And now we shall have all sorts +of dangerous things coming in from the +Atlantic,—sharks and sword-fish and octopuses! +No more bathing in the lake for you +girls! No more boating! We hold your lives +too precious!” +</p> + +<p> +“And you stand there smiling serenely, with +your arms folded!” cried Carol. “Don’t you +know your duty is to dive down and stuff up +the subway entrance with the things you’ve +been buying to-day? They’d plug it so watertight +the slimmest eel couldn’t get through! +You might at least get that lamp mat to hurl +down the monster’s throat and poison him with +the Paris green!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have too much regard for the Society for +the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals!” +Court protested. “He won’t bite though. +See, he’s wagging his tail,—he’s pleased!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-198" class="pagenum" title="198"></a> +With his mighty tail rocking to and fro in +the rough water, the fire-breathing sea-serpent +came swimming through the bay with the evident +intention of reposing his snaky form somewhere +upon the pebbly strand. Roderick Dhu, +faithful to his duty as guardian of the camp, +rushed up and down in a frenzy of barking. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother must see it!” cried Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Call Bunny and Miss Hamersley too!” said +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Get Marie and Amelie and Toinette!” +added Jean. +</p> + +<p> +Cecily ran up to the bungalow and came back +with all the other members of the camp. +</p> + +<p> +The saurian reached the land off Camp-fire +Rock, and lay in the rippling water panting out +flames in an exhausted manner, and writhing +all down the length of his spinal column, which, +when viewed at close range, bore a singular +resemblance to canoes lashed together and covered +with dark green paper muslin. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor dear, he’s tired out! Let’s help +him up on shore and put a collar and bells on +him! He’ll make a lovely pet!” laughed +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and let’s dissect him,” said Carol. +“I suspect we’ll find his brains in his neck instead +of in his head.” +</p> + +<p> +Heedless of soaked shoes, the girls stepped +into the water to examine the anatomy of the +<a id="page-199" class="pagenum" title="199"></a> +sea-serpent. The head was mounted on a rowboat, +and, concealed behind the giant cranium, +were Jack and Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“He swallowed us!” Douglas explained. +“That’s why I couldn’t get up in time to start +your fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“We stuck in his throat, though,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you went down so quick you +hadn’t time to catch fire in his mouth!” said +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a noble animal!” exclaimed Nancy, +surveying the monster’s head with its round +eyes and gaping jaws, in which the fire was +dying down. “I hope you appreciate the +honor of being swallowed by him. What +a stunning fin he has! He’s a regular +charmer!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s an awful blockhead, though,” said +Douglas, tapping the wooden skull. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at his mouth!” said Jean. “It’s an +old wash boiler!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’d have got burned up if we hadn’t +given him a tin mouth,” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at those tin pails stuck in for his +eyes!” said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“What is he?” asked Eunice. “What’s his +scientific name?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a full-blooded megalodonto-bronto-sauriosticos,” +replied Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Rose said you boys were up till midnight +<a id="page-200" class="pagenum" title="200"></a> +yesterday, and were all late for breakfast this +morning,” said Cecily. “Did the megalo-what’s-his-name +have anything to do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“The <em>tale</em> of last night’s experiences is +longer than the sea-serpent’s,” said Jack, +shaking his head reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +“Do make meggy spout some more flames,” +said Frances. And at her request the megalo-donto-bronto-sauriosticos +breathed forth the +last of the red fire saved from the Fourth of +July. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-18"> +<a id="page-201" class="pagenum" title="201"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XVI.</span><br> +THE BATTLE MAID +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">O</span><span class="postfirstchar">f</span> the Stella Olympia Relief Fund it was +decided to place $65 in the savings bank. +The morning after the Festival the campers +took Limpy the remaining ten, the sum of a +doctor’s bill, long unpaid. A more astonished +lass and a happier was not to be found in the +United States, but for fear of giving her too +much excitement the girls made their visit a +short one, Jean promising to come again on +the following afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Carol and her classmates went +with Miss Hamersley on a tally-ho party to +Deer Lake, as the guests of Mrs. Clinton of +Big Pine Camp. After dinner Mrs. Brook +took Cecily and Betty on a marketing expedition +to a farm twelve miles away, Douglas +driving them in a buckboard. While they were +gone some of the girls held a tennis tournament, +and Jean watched them, her ears pricked +up for the sound of the coaching-horn, in +hopes that Carol would return in time to go +with her to see Limpy. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-202" class="pagenum" title="202"></a> +“Oh, dear! it’s four o’clock! I can’t wait +any longer. I’ll just have to go alone!” she +sighed at, last. “Oh, I think Carol might +come! Limpy may get a heart attack, and I +won’t know what to do. I just hate to go +alone, but I’ll have to,—I <em>promised</em>.” +Choosing a story-book to read aloud she set +forth with a downcast countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, Jane, whar’s you gwine?” Frances +called from the hammock. +</p> + +<p> +“To see Limpy,” replied Jean. “I have to +go alone, because Carol hasn’t come back, and +Fräulein has such a headache I don’t like to +ask her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you ask <em>me</em>? I’ll go with +you,” said the friendly Mouse. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t ask <em>you</em> because I knew you +wouldn’t behave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m going to be good now, anyway,” +said Frances. “I haven’t anything to do, so +I’m going with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you promise solemnly, on your honor, +to be good?” Jean demanded. “You know +the least thing might give her a heart attack.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ll be good. She’ll like me a great +deal better than you.” But as they crossed the +Harrels’ daisy field, Frances said, “Don’t +let’s go to Limpy’s. Let’s go to the <em>flume</em>,—I’m +crazy to see it!” +</p> + +<p> +Troublesome Path, the nearest way to the +<a id="page-203" class="pagenum" title="203"></a> +flume, was the wildest and most perplexing +trail in the whole region; and it began in the +woods that skirted the daisy field. The Hamiltons +had taken Carol and Jean over it a few +days before, and the girls had brought back a +thrilling report of the deep gorge, with the +brook roaring through it, and the natural +bridge spanning the chasm. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes. I’d like to see ourselves marching +off to the flume!” said Jean. “We’d get +a <em>nice</em> big scolding!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody’d know, and nobody’d care,” said +Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Veritas!” And Jean planted the tip of +her forefinger on Frances’s golden shield. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, shoot Veritas!” returned the Mouse. +“Come on!” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t do it!” declared Jean. “I’m +going to Limpy’s and you are too, so come +along! This is Silver Sword work, and it’s +time you did a little, Miss Battle Maid!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Giraffe, you’re such a crank! I did +enough silver-swording making candy for the +festival. I’m going to the flume, whether you +are or not. Good-bye!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you sha’n’t!” Jean caught Frances +by the arm. “You’d lose the trail in two +minutes! Ah, Frisk, I think you’re terribly +mean! You promised you’d be good—I knew +you were only pretending, though!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-204" class="pagenum" title="204"></a> +“All rightee, I’ll be good,” said Frances, +who was really not at all anxious to take the +long, unknown walk, with only herself for +company. But when she reached the Harrels’ +she balked again, and dropped into a rickety +chair under a tree. “I’m going to stay out +here,” she announced. “My daddy sent me +to camp to be out in the fresh air all I could!” +</p> + +<p> +“Frances Browne, you’re just trying to be +hateful! You <em>must</em> come in—I’ll <em>make</em> you!” +cried Jean, doing her best to drag the Mouse. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Frances, “I won’t. I can’t +stand that cabbagey smell. I’ll sit out here +and cool off. But I won’t hang around waiting +for you all the afternoon. If you stay too +long I <em>will</em> go to the flume!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, stay out then!” snapped Jean. The +vision of a pale, unconscious Limpy was rising +before her, but she bravely went into the house +by the open front door. At the same moment +Frances saw Tony Harrel come out by the +kitchen door and walk hurriedly away to the +woods. +</p> + +<p> +Frances lolled back, fanning herself with her +hat; then she took a light luncheon from the +Harrels’ sparse currant crop. Finally she +strolled off and began to climb the hill near by; +and whom should she see coming down but Bob +and Ted Talcott, boys of fourteen and twelve, +who were spending a month under Dr. Hamilton’s +<a id="page-205" class="pagenum" title="205"></a> +care. They had struck up an acquaintance +with her at the festival over berries and +cream. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Miss Fruit Fairy! Where are you +going all by yourself?” asked Bob. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nowhere,” said Frances. “I want to +go to the flume. Do you know the way?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure. Went there yesterday with Jack.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take me there now, will you?” asked +Frances eagerly. “I’m wild to see it, and I +haven’t anybody to go with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too far for girls,” said Bob, with manly +superiority. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t at all. Jean went there last week. +If you’ll take me I’ll make you some fudge +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, ma’am. Well take you to the +flume, and we’ll come and call on you too,” +said Bob. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t she squeal when we get her out on +the bridge!” said his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t. I never get dizzy,” Frances +declared. “Do you dare me to cross it all +alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nope.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare myself, then!” said Frances in high +glee. They ran down the hill and turned into +the Harrels’ place on their way to the trail. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t got a pencil and paper, have +you?” asked Frances. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-206" class="pagenum" title="206"></a> +“There you are!” Bob brought out a small +red account book and a stubby pencil. +</p> + +<p> +Frances tore out a page and wrote: “I’ve +waited about three hours for you, and now I’m +going to the flume. Good-bye.” This note +she fastened with a hat-pin to the tree under +which Jean had left her, and then set off with +the boys along Troublesome Path. +</p> + +<p> +Jean looked much bolder than she felt as she +walked in at the Harrels’ front door. She +peeped into the parlor,—no one was there. +She went into the kitchen,—that was deserted +too. It was a bad sign, and the horror of perhaps +finding Limpy unconscious almost made +her play the coward. But she rallied her flagging +courage and stole upstairs. The door of +Limpy’s bedroom was open and she heard the +sound of sobbing. She went in. There was +the poor girl in a heap on the floor beside the +bed, her face buried in her hands, shuddering +with convulsive tremors. +</p> + +<p> +“Limpy, what’s the matter?” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +Limpy started, stared at her wildly for an +instant; then, half raising herself, she threw +her arms around Jean’s waist, dragging her +down on the floor beside her and panted out: +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Tony? Is he gone? Is he +gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Limpy, dear, please stop crying and tell me +<a id="page-207" class="pagenum" title="207"></a> +what’s happened,” said Jean, putting her +arms around the sobbing girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Tony come back last night. He lost his +place,” answered Limpy. “An’ he—he took +my—money,—my ten dollars!” +</p> + +<p> +“He stole it?” Jean asked breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he made me give it to him. He said—oh, +dear! he’d kill me for tellin’! Shut the +door; he might hear us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whisper; then he can’t hear,” said Jean, +closing the door softly; and Limpy went on in +an undertone: “He said he was goin’ away +again, an’ he made me give him the ten dollars. +I ain’t had no chance to give ’em to Doctor. +An’ Tony said if I ever told on him he’d ruin +Douglas! So I couldn’t do nothin’,—I just +<em>had</em> to give him the money. An’ I got to give +him all the rest. He said if I didn’t have it +ready for him when he come back next time, +he’d set the woods afire, an’ burn up your +camp an’ the Hamiltons’! An’ he’ll do it! I +know he will! He said he’d do it <em>now</em>, if I +told on him!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he won’t!” answered Jean, desperately +frightened herself, but knowing that for +Limpy’s sake she must hide her terror. “I’ll +tell everybody about it, and they’ll watch for +him so he won’t get a chance. Wait till I go +and get Frances,—she’s waiting outside,—and +<a id="page-208" class="pagenum" title="208"></a> +then we’ll stay with you till it’s time to go +home. Don’t be frightened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please come back quick then,” begged +Limpy. “My heart’s beatin’ terrible bad! I +can’t hardly breathe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! Now she’s going to be <em>unconscious</em>,” +thought Jean. “Come, Limpy, get on +the bed,—quick—and then you’ll feel better,” +she urged, her own heart beating fast with +fear. She helped Limpy to the bed, and sat beside +her until the excited girl grew quieter. +Then she slipped softly down stairs, hurried +out of doors and found that Frances had +deserted already. She could see her in the distance +climbing the hill, but she was afraid to +leave Limpy alone and go after the runaway. +</p> + +<p> +Fighting the terror that gripped her, Jean +went indoors again, her hands icy and her ears +alert for sounds of danger. She peeped cautiously +into each room in turn until she had +proof positive that Tony was not in the house. +Then she went back to Limpy and forced herself +to speak cheerily. +</p> + +<p> +“Frances has gone up the hill and I can’t +make her hear,” she said. “But let’s not +worry any more about Tony. I’m sure he’s +gone. I’ve brought a lovely book and I’ll +read to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean read for an hour or more, and then, +though the clock in the kitchen had stopped, +<a id="page-209" class="pagenum" title="209"></a> +she was sure that it was time to leave. “I’ll +have to go now,” said she. “It must be tea-time. +But I’ll ask Mrs. Brook to send somebody +to stay with you. You won’t be left +alone long.” +</p> + +<p> +As she went out Frances’ words came back +to her: “If you stay too long I <em>will</em> go to +the flume.” Spying the note pinned to the tree +she took it down and read it. “Mercy! She +<em>has</em> gone!” exclaimed poor Jean. “Oh, dear! +She’ll lose her way! I’ll have to go after her. +She can’t have gone far. I’ll soon catch up +with her.” +</p> + +<p> +Running across the yard and through the +fields to the woods, she set out on the trail to +the flume, calling, “Frances!” and “Ooh-ooh!” +and listening in vain for an answer. On she +went, following with difficulty Troublesome +Path. She pushed her way through tangled +underbrush and scrambled over rocks, trying +to find the trees on which blazes had been cut. +But the trail was so hard to make out that to +keep the right course proved a baffling problem. +Pretty soon she was hopelessly perplexed, and +which was north, south, east or west, which +way led home and which to the flume she had +not the least idea. It was growing dimmer and +dimmer in the forest; night would fall early in +that dense shade, and suddenly Jean realized +that she was lost. Lost! It came upon her +<a id="page-210" class="pagenum" title="210"></a> +like a nightmare. She was shut up in a vast +dark prison; and it would have been almost as +easy to break through the walls of a cell as to +find her way out through that bewildering +maze of trees. The fears of the afternoon +were nothing compared with the terror that +rushed over her now. She began to call, +“Frances!” again, with all her strength, but +deathlike silence was the only answer. Suddenly +she checked herself and shrank back into +the cleft of a rock with a new dread. Tony +himself might be in the woods! His vindictive +eyes might even now be peering at her out of +the dusk. +</p> + +<p> +But she must not stay cowering there; she +must go on before the night should blind her; +and so she tried again to pick out the way by +which she had come. She wondered whether +she and Frances had already been missed, and +whether any one had yet been sent out to +search for them; and she asked herself how, in +that vast forest, either of them could ever be +found. Then she was seized with a new alarm. +She remembered having heard of people being +lost in forests and becoming crazed with the +horror of it. What if she should go crazy! +Though lost, she must control herself and keep +her senses. She gathered up all her will power +and tried to fight down the fear that had +mastered her. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-211" class="pagenum" title="211"></a> +How dark it was growing! In some places +Jean could hardly see. Wandering on despairingly, +she at last came out on the bank of +a brook. This was next best to seeing a friend. +It might lead her out of the woods. It <em>must</em> +lead somewhere, and following it she would +have a path that she could not lose. She +walked along the edge of the stream, but before +she had gone far she noticed the smell of +smoke. Then the terror that she had been +trying to conquer swept over her again. +Tony might have overheard Limpy telling her +of his threat and have set fire to the woods +already! She must escape by way of the brook +before he should find her, or the fire spread. +She hurried forward, but suddenly stopped, +checked by a new thought. There had been but +little rain all summer, and Douglas had told +her that a fire once kindled in the dry woods +might spread for miles and even destroy the +camps at Halcyon. He had said that a fire +once started even through carelessness would +smoulder and spread through the inflammable +mat of dead leaves, twigs and moss, the +“duff” as it was called, and at last break out +in violence to do its work of destruction. +Danger was near—not to herself alone, but to +the homes over which the fire might sweep. +But it was a danger that it might be possible +to avert. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-212" class="pagenum" title="212"></a> +Suddenly it seemed almost as if a voice said, +“Battle Maid, take your sword and conquer!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will!” said Jean. “This is a real battle! +I’ll do the best I can!” +</p> + +<p> +She climbed the bank; pushed through the +trees, and scrambled through a windfall. Beyond +the heap of boughs she came upon a patch +of ground from which little curls of smoke were +rising. Here and there sparks gleamed under +the smoke. Could she do anything to check the +spreading fire? The brook was near, but all +she had for a pail was her canvas hat, nearly +water-proof to be sure, but holding scarcely a +cupful. Yet the experiment seemed worth +trying. She hurried back to the brook, filled +her hat, returned to the burning patch and +poured out the water. There was a fizzle, and +the smoke disappeared from about as wide a +space as her palm could have covered. Back +and forth she went between the brook and the +fire, each time a splutter and a few inches +conquered, encouraging her to continue. Her +fears were lessening now that she had work to +do, and she toiled on, her path growing more +and more obscured. She had heard of beating +out fires, and she struck at the smouldering +ground with a branch; but it was a dead one +and broke at the second blow. She took up +her hat again, and this time, as she carried it to +the brook she could find her way only by +<a id="page-213" class="pagenum" title="213"></a> +groping. Returning she caught her foot in the +fallen branches and fell, bruising herself painfully. +</p> + +<p> +Then her utter helplessness overpowered +poor Jean. The night had come down at last, +wrapping her around in a cloak of darkness, +and she crouched there among the fallen trees, +alone and in pain. The wounded battle maid +could not help one sob of despair and a little +low moan. The moan ended in a prayer: “Oh, +dear Lord, don’t let me die here. Make them +find me! Oh, Lord, please help me, and don’t +let the woods burn!” And then the agony of +fear and the despair passed away. Suddenly +Jean was strong again and hopeful, though so +helpless and all alone. She rose up and +groped her way back to her work again. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-19"> +<a id="page-214" class="pagenum" title="214"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XVII.</span><br> +FOREST AND FIRE +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">M</span><span class="postfirstchar">rs.</span> Brook came home at tea-time and +found Fräulein Bunsen looking anxious, +for Jean and Frances had not yet returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll send Douglas for them,” said she. +“Cecily, run and see if you can catch him.” +</p> + +<p> +Cecily and Betty both flew. Douglas was out +of sight and on the way to the livery-stable +with the buckboard by the time they reached +the road, but there they met Frances, Bob and +Ted. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Frances! Where’s Jean?” cried +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Poking over Limpy still, I suppose,” said +the Mouse. “I was so sick and tired of waiting +for her, I took a walk with the boys. I left a +note for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you go in and tell Mother we’ve gone +to meet her,” said Cecily, hurrying away with +Betty. +</p> + +<p> +Before they returned the tally-ho party +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-215" class="pagenum" title="215"></a> +“We’ve had a perfectly glorious time!” +said Carol. “Just as we came to Deer Lake +Mrs. Clinton suddenly decided to go on to Blue +Heron Pond and have luncheon at the Inn. +That’s why we were gone such ages. Where’s +that child of mine? I bought this stuffed +heron at the Inn for her.” +</p> + +<p> +While Mrs. Brook was telling how Jean had +kept her appointment, Douglas came in, and a +moment later Cecily and Betty appeared in +great excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean started—to come back—more than an +hour ago!” panted Cecily. “She must have +lost her way, or something’s happened to +her!” Carol turned white. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be frightened,” said Mrs. Brook. +“We shall find her. We must send—” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll start right off,” Douglas interrupted. +“Wait till I get a lantern.” And he dashed +away for a light. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid she started out to look for you, +Frances,” said Mrs. Brook. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m sure she did,” broke in Cecily. +“What did you say in your note?” +</p> + +<p> +Frances hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, what did you say?” asked Miss Hamersley +sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“I told her I was going to the flume,” said +Frances faintly. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-216" class="pagenum" title="216"></a> +“To the flume!” exclaimed Mrs. Brook. +</p> + +<p> +“Bob and Ted took me,” murmured Frances, +“but she wouldn’t have gone after <em>me</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what she’s done!” cried Carol. +“And it will be pitch dark in the woods soon! +She’s certain to lose her way, and she’ll go +crazy with fright!” Carol’s grip on Frances’ +arm, her white face, and the fire flashing in +her eyes so terrified the culprit that she burst +out crying, and the rest of her confession came +out with sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m off for the flume now,” said Douglas, +who had come back with a lantern. +</p> + +<p> +“Take Rod with you,” said Cecily. “He’ll +find her,—I know he will!” She knelt down, +took her collie’s head between her hands, and +said: “Rod, find Jean. Find Jean.” +</p> + +<p> +The dog’s intelligent eyes looked into his +mistress’s and answered, “I promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Get something to give him the scent,” said +Douglas. “Got a shoe?” +</p> + +<p> +Cecily brought one of Jean’s shoes, and the +boy and the dog went off towards the woods. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Mrs. Brook, “someone must go +to Hurricane and send one of the boys to the +Inn for guides. We must get search parties +started.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go!” And Carol darted away, with +Miss Hamersley after her, on the Hurricane +trail. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-217" class="pagenum" title="217"></a> +“Don’t be worried,” said Court consolingly, +when the breathless messengers had told their +errand. “She’ll be found soon,—I haven’t +a doubt of it. Jack, go over to the Inn and +order out the guides. I’ll start along Troublesome +Path.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go with you, Court,” said his father, +as Jack rushed down to the dock. They accompanied +Miss Hamersley and Carol to +Huairarwee, and then with the dogs, Blarny +and Blunder, hastened away on their quest. +</p> + +<p> +And now followed a long, anxious waiting. +</p> + +<p> +Frances had run away in the midst of her +fit of crying, and was discovered by Cecily +under the platform of her tent, crouching on +the cold earth, a heap of woe! +</p> + +<p> +“Come out, Frances! Don’t cry so dreadfully,” +coaxed Cecily, ready to cry herself. +“Come and get your supper.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m—afraid—she’s tumbled—down a—precipice! +I just know I’ve killed her!” +sobbed poor Frances. “Leave me alone! I +don’t want any supper!” And no pleading +could draw forth the wretched Mouse. +</p> + +<p> +Carol too was suffering bitterly. All the +hopeful words her friends could offer were +powerless to comfort. She paced up and down +out of doors, straining her eyes in the darkness +for the flash of a lantern heralding the wanderer’s +return, and working herself into a +<a id="page-218" class="pagenum" title="218"></a> +frenzy by picturing all the accidents that might +have befallen Jean. +</p> + +<p> +No second sight enabled the heavy-hearted +watchers to follow Douglas and Roderick Dhu. +From the beginning of the flume trail, onward +for some distance, the dog’s keen nose traced +Jean’s course. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s up to us to find her now!” said +Douglas. “That’s tight! Go it, old boy! +We must get her before she’s scared to death. +She won’t lose her grit in a hurry though,—you +can bet your life on that! Hello! what’s +the matter?” The collie had stopped short. +Douglas shouted and hallooed. Rod ran about +sniffing and suddenly grew excited over a fresh +scent. “Hooray! Now we’ve got it! Now +we’ll run her down <em>sure</em>, won’t we, old +fellow?” The dog ran on, nose to the ground, +until the scent failed him once more. Then he +looked up and confessed by his apologetic eyes +and whine that he was nonplussed. +</p> + +<p> +“Stumped, are you?” said Douglas. “Oh, +come now! What’s the matter with you? +Can’t you smell out a scent two hours old? +Here,—try the shoe again!” But the poor +dog whined and snuffled hopelessly about. +“You’re no good! It’s because you’re a girl’s +dog! They didn’t teach you anything but how +to shake hands!” Roderick Dhu’s tail drooped. +<a id="page-219" class="pagenum" title="219"></a> +“Poor old duffer! You’ll just have to follow +me.” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas patted Rod. The dog cheered up +and his plume began to wave once more. He +followed Douglas, who was trying what might +once have been a trail. The boy made turn +after turn, calling and listening, and casting his +light on every hollow or nook suggesting a pitfall +or place of shelter. All the time it was +growing darker, and the farther he pushed on +the denser the woods became. +</p> + +<p> +Clever young woodsman though he was he +soon found that he had lost his bearings. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! That was a close call!” He had almost +fallen over a ledge of rock. “Suppose +she’s tumbled over a place like that!” He set +his teeth as he thought how Jean might be lying +injured and helpless after some dreadful fall; +and he pushed on, shouting himself hoarse. At +last the clue came; the dog’s nose had found it. +</p> + +<p> +“Hooray! Good boy, Rod!” said Douglas. +The collie led him through a clump of alders, +down a bank to a half dried brook, and along its +stony bed. Suddenly the boy began to sniff +too. “Smoke!” he exclaimed. “I’ll have to +see to that next! Hello! Where’re you going +now?” The dog had left the brook and was +trotting up the slope. Douglas followed, shouting +Jean’s name, and this time a faint cry answered +<a id="page-220" class="pagenum" title="220"></a> +him. It sounded like, “Here! Here!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming!” he called, and led by Rod he +reached the windfall, through which the dog +bounded. A sharp bark, a joyful cry, and +Douglas knew that Jean was found. He +crashed through the fallen trees, and as he +stepped out he heard, “Oh, Rod, you darling, +dear old dog!” +</p> + +<p> +There stood Jean, struggling to keep her balance +as Roderick Dhu, with his paws on her +shoulders and his nose in her face, showered +her with kisses; and there, almost at her feet, +the smoke was rising. The boy dashed to her +side. +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am, Jean! Hooray! I’ve found +you! Get down, Rod,—don’t eat her up!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Douglas! How did you ever find me? +I’ve been lost hours and hours, and I was so +terribly frightened! Oh, I’m so glad! I’m so +glad!” Jean clung to him quivering, in the +rush of joy and relief. +</p> + +<p> +“You poor little thing!” said Douglas soothingly. +“I should think you’d have gone crazy! +It was awful for you! But you’re all right +now! I’ve got you safe, and I’m going to take +you right home. What are you standing in the +fire for? Don’t you see it’s burning all around +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and I’ve been trying to put it out, but +I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-221" class="pagenum" title="221"></a> +“Great guns! You’ve been trying to put it +out? Jean, you’re a brick! What were you +doing? Stamping it out?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I carried water in my hat!” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas began to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a <em>canvas</em> hat,” Jean explained; “but it +doesn’t hold much. Can’t <em>you</em> put it out, Douglas? +The woods’ll all get on fire if you don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ll stamp it out. I only want to see +if you’re all right first. How did you ever get +over here? You’re way off the trail.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I was trying to get to the +flume to find Frances. She’s lost too!” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>She!</em> Not much! She was off larking with +Bob and Ted. She got back all right. I bet +all the guides are out after you by this time! +We’ve beaten them all to smithereens, haven’t +we, Rod? Get down, sir, get down! That’s +right, Jean,—hold on to me. You’re all shaky! +What’s the matter? Didn’t hurt yourself, did +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here! You’re not going to cry, are +you?” asked Douglas in sudden alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I’m not going to cry!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right! You’re the stuff!” Douglas +patted her on the back. “Now,” he +added, “I’m going to beat that fire out. Wait +till I get a stick.” He attacked the smoking +ground with a branch from the windfall, and +<a id="page-222" class="pagenum" title="222"></a> +stamped with his heavy boots. Jean sat on a +fallen tree, fondling Rod, and watching while +her enemy was conquered. +</p> + +<p> +“Are they terribly worried about me at +home?” she called. +</p> + +<p> +“Seared stiff!” Douglas called back. +“Lucky you didn’t pitch down one of those +gullies! I was afraid you had.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was sure you’d come after me,” said +Jean, “but I thought you’d <em>never</em> find me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Rod did it mostly,” answered Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +Jean patted the dog. “Wasn’t he splendid!” +said she. +</p> + +<p> +Upturning, beating, stamping, Douglas kept +at his work until he had gone over every inch of +ground touched by the fire, and crushed out +every spark. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s out now, every bit of it!” he cried at +last. “I wonder how it started.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tony Harrel did it,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Great, Cæsar! Tony? What do you +mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you here. He might be around.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if he’s around there are enough people +out looking for you to catch him and chuck +him into the flume,” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hush! Don’t talk so loud,” begged +Jean. “Let’s start home quick. I’ll tell you +as we go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here! I’m lost myself,” said Douglas. +<a id="page-223" class="pagenum" title="223"></a> +“We’ll have to follow that brook down. +I bet it’s the one that cuts across the flume +trail.” +</p> + +<p> +They began the homeward tramp, and Jean +told him as they went the whole story of the +afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +“Tony’s a sneak! He ought to be shot!” +said Douglas. “He didn’t start that fire +though.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how do you know?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he was just bluffing to scare Limpy. +That fire hadn’t just started, either. It must +have been creeping through the duff for ever so +long.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a rough road down the stony edge of +the brook, but they found that Douglas had +guessed right, for it crossed the flume trail. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re on the home run now,” said the +boy. But to Jean it looked like a very long +slow run indeed. Suddenly they heard voices; +then lanterns shone out. Dr. Hamilton and +Court were coming back from a fruitless journey +to the flume. The weary march ended at +once. Court and his father made a queen’s +chair and Jean rode home in triumph. +</p> + +<p> +As they neared the camp Douglas ran ahead +and shouted, “Here she is!” The girls came +running to meet her, Carol and Cecily first of +all, and she was caught and clasped in her +friends’ arms. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-224" class="pagenum" title="224"></a> +“Douglas found her!” said Court. “She +was putting out a forest fire! She and Douglas +have saved the woods! She’s a trump!” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a brick!” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a heroine!” said Dr. Hamilton. +“She’s proved herself a true battle maid.” +</p> + +<p> +While Jean and Douglas were having their +supper, they told their story together, their +excited hearers interrupting with praises of +Jean’s courage, and giving Douglas and Roderick +Dhu their full share of glory. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Frances? Isn’t she glad I’m +back?” asked Jean. The Mouse had not come +to welcome her, but they found her face downward +on her cot. She would not raise her head +till Jean bent over her, saying, “Please, +Friskie, look up. I can’t go to bed till you +give me a kiss.” Then she sat up, displaying +tear-wet cheeks, and red, swollen eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean,” she said, “I didn’t mean to +get you lost! Oh, I—I thought—you were +dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m not,” Jean answered cheerily. +“Don’t cry, Mousie. I’m glad I was lost. If +I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have found the +fire.” She gave Frances a kiss, but it lighted +on the crown of her head, for the poor Mouse +ducked in self-abasement. +</p> + +<p> +Carol did not leave Jean for a moment till +she was safely tucked in bed. When the light +<a id="page-225" class="pagenum" title="225"></a> +was out she knelt beside the cot, put her arms +around Jean, and laid her head on the pillow +beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I keep you awake if I stay here a +few minutes, darling?” she asked. “I want to +be sure I have you safe again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d stay till I go to sleep,” said +Jean. “It’s so good to have <em>you</em> again, Big +Sister, dear! I thought at one time I’d never +get home. I thought I’d just have to die +there!” +</p> + +<p> +The clasp of Carol’s arms tightened. “Oh, +my precious Little Sister!” she whispered. +“I never knew before how much I loved you!” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-20"> +<a id="page-226" class="pagenum" title="226"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XVIII.</span><br> +CINDERELLA +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>I</span> wonder how Limpy is,” said Jean, as +she awoke next day to find Carol at her +bedside. “Can’t we go down and see her right +after breakfast?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty can’t,” said Carol. “You’re +to have your breakfast in bed, and take a rest +cure. Mrs. Brook’s going to see her herself +this morning, so I’ll stay and take care of +<em>you</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean was quite willing to lie still a while +longer, for she was worn out after the fatigue +and excitement of yesterday. When her breakfast +was brought to her, it was a subdued and +pensive Frances who carried in the plate of +flapjacks, with which Marie insisted upon regaling +the heroine. +</p> + +<p> +She was up and dressed by ten o’clock, but +there was no exercise on the lake for her that +morning. Carol settled her cozily in a hammock, +with pillows at her back, and all Jean’s +pleading could not induce Cecily and Betty to +forsake her. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-227" class="pagenum" title="227"></a> +“No, your majesty, your battle maids are +going to stay and wait on you,” said Cecily. +“I’ll be Court Reader, and Betty’ll be Court +Swinger.” She seated herself on the grass +with a book to read aloud; Betty began to +swing Jean gently to and fro; and Frances, who +had been condemned to pass a day of sackcloth +and ashes within the bounds of Huairarwee, +proved the sincerity of her repentance by +assisting Nanno to hold a wake for Katy, thus +distracting the camp baby from her determination +to “jounce up and down” on the feet of +her guardian-in-chief. +</p> + +<p> +“Joan of Arc, can I trust you not to jump +out of the hammock and skip off to better the +world the minute my back’s turned?” Carol +gave this parting admonition before going out +on the water. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Big Sister, I’ll be good,” Jean promised. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll hold her down,” said Frances, drawing +the Navajo blanket over Jean’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“Frisk is a reformed character this morning,” +said Carol, as she and Eunice and Nancy +went down to the landing. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little soul! She must have cried +oceans, last night!” said Nancy. +</p> + +<p> +“I know one thing,” said Carol. “If it +hadn’t been for Frisky we wouldn’t have +found out what stuff my Jeanie’s made of! +<a id="page-228" class="pagenum" title="228"></a> +I’m going to write to Miss Carlton to-day, and +tell her what a heroine she is! And I’ll tell +her she’s in dead earnest about trying to make +the world better. Pretty big job she has on +her hands! If we three had an ounce of energy +between us, we’d do a little bettering on our +own account!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you and Jean are a pretty good +pair,” said Eunice. “But I really <em>do</em> think I +might stir up my lazy bones and do something +for somebody!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come along then!” said Carol. “I have an +<em>idea</em>. Let’s go over to picnic island and have +a pow-wow.” +</p> + +<p> +The girls came back from their pow-wow to +find Mrs. Brook just returned from her visit +to Limpy. They seized her and drew her away +to a private consultation. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the afternoon Douglas drove up in +a surrey. He was whistling in high good humor, +and gave Jean a mischievous look when +she called from the hammock, “Why, Douglas! +Who’s going out driving?” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Carol and Miss Eunice,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth are you going off alone +for?” asked Jean, as Eunice and Carol came +out of their tent. +</p> + +<p> +“Mayn’t I have my chum to myself once in +a while?” said Carol. “Jump in, Una! Bye-bye, +<a id="page-229" class="pagenum" title="229"></a> +Queenie,” and she sprang into the surrey +after Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to stop and see Limpy?” +Jean asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we’ll look in on her,” answered Carol. +</p> + +<p> +As they drove away Mrs. Brook said, +“Cecily, I think it would do Jean good to have +a row this afternoon. You and Betty take her +over to Water Lily Cove, and bring some lilies +for the table.” +</p> + +<p> +The three girls managed to dispose of a good +two hours in their visit to the Cove. They +returned with a big bunch of the white and +yellow beauties, and down to the dock to meet +them rushed Frances, her spirits already on the +rebound. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think Motherling and I’ve +been up to?” said she. “We’ve been rigging +up a cozy corner! Come and see it!” She +hurried them away to Mrs. Brook’s tent, and +they found that a part of it had been screened +off. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you look as sweet as a peach, and +sweeter!” They heard Carol’s voice from the +hidden cozy corner, and there came a soft laugh +in answer. Frances pushed aside the screen +and revealed a new bedroom. There on a cot +sat a fair-haired girl, in Carol’s pink kimono, +which Carol herself was fastening at the throat +<a id="page-230" class="pagenum" title="230"></a> +with one of her own brooches,—a tiny enameled +daisy. +</p> + +<p> +“Limpy!” Jean and Cecily flew to the pinkrobed +girl, who sprang up with her arms outstretched. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m comin’ to visit! to stay all summer!” +said Limpy. +</p> + +<p> +“All summer! How perfectly gorgeous!” +cried Jean. “Carolie, that’s what you and +Eunice went off alone for!” +</p> + +<p> +“That was it!” Carol acknowledged. “We +went to steal Cinderella and carry her off to +the ball! And wasn’t she surprised when +she found what her fairy godmothers had come +for!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now I know why Mammykins sent us off +after water-lilies,” said Cecily. “It was a +trick to get rid of us while she fixed up this +room and you brought Limpy. It’ll be lovely +to have you here, Limpy!” +</p> + +<p> +“And we’ll take splendid care of you,” said +Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so happy I don’t know what to do!” +said Limpy. “But, oh! Jean, I was so frightened +about you last night. Pa come home an’ +said they was all out lookin’ for you. Oh, +wasn’t you grand an’ brave!” +</p> + +<p> +“Cinderella, you’ve danced enough jigs,” +said Carol. “Let me try on your glass slippers, +and then you must have a nice long rest.” +<a id="page-231" class="pagenum" title="231"></a> +Limpy dropped down on the bed obediently, +and Carol completed the new costume by adding +a pretty pair of moccasins. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s given ’em to me!” said the happy +little Cinderella. “An’ she give me this!” +She smoothed out the rosy kimono reverently. +“Ain’t it beautiful! I’m so afraid I’ll muss +it. An’ this pin! Ain’t it just the loveliest! +I didn’t think I’d ever have any <em>jewelry</em>!” +Then she threw her arms around Carol’s neck +and gave her a kiss of passionate gratitude. +“An’ just look at the room they’ve fixed for +me!” she added. Her happy eyes roamed again +over her little nest, with its rustic table fitted +up as a washstand, a mirror hanging over it, +its green wicker chair with scarlet cushions, +and the snug cot with its flowered chintz coverlet. +“Oh, it’s just too sweet!” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +Limpy was too tired to be at supper with +twenty lively girls all laughing and talking at +once, so a little tea-table was set on the tent +veranda, and there the queen and her maidens +entertained the damsel no longer distressed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what’s the matter with me! +I just can’t stop laughin’, an’ yesterday I +couldn’t stop cryin’!” said Limpy. “Oh, I’m +so happy! I can’t never tell you how happy I +am!” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re just as happy as you are,” said +Cecily. “And we’re not going to let Jean +<a id="page-232" class="pagenum" title="232"></a> +keep you all to herself. We’ll all be your sisters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean, let’s make her a member of the +Order!” said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid! Of course she must belong!” +cried Jean. “I’ll knight her right away.” +She ran to Cecily’s flower bed and came back +with a long spray of gladiolus. Then she made +Limpy kneel before her and struck her on the +shoulder with the sword-flower. “Stella Olympia,” +she said, “I dub thee battle maid of the +Order of the Silver Sword. Be always faithful +to the sword of love and the shield of truth. +Rise, Battle Maid!” And up rose Limpy, radiant +at this overwhelming honor. +</p> + +<p> +Carol, Eunice and Nancy had planned to pay +Limpy’s board themselves, but Mrs. Brook refused +to accept a penny. And while from their +own wardrobes they were making up an outfit +to take the place of the forlorn little bundle of +clothes with which Limpy had arrived, and of +which she seemed ashamed, Jean, Cecily, Betty +and Frances rushed to their own tent, fired with +eagerness to despoil themselves likewise. +They found this self-robbery so fascinating +that when Carol looked in upon them, she declared +that the sacrificial pyre reached to the +ridge-pole of the tent. Jean’s contribution included +her new organdie with its pink ribbons, +<a id="page-233" class="pagenum" title="233"></a> +her jaunty white duck suit, and the only warm +coat that she had brought to camp. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>My</em> dresses won’t fit her at all,—I’m such +a shorty!” Frances lamented. “I know—I’ll +give her my Sunday hat!” +</p> + +<p> +When Mrs. Brook saw the lavish display she +made a small and judicious selection from it, +and insisted that nothing more should be given. +The girls’ faces fell; but when the simple and +tasteful outfit was complete, it had in Cinderella’s +delighted eyes all the splendor of a rich +bridal trousseau. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not the new clothes that soon +changed Limpy almost beyond recognition. It +was the love and brightness around her that +brought out all the long hidden sunshine of her +nature. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had a pretty name like you girls +have,” she said one day to Jean. “I can’t +bear <em>Limpy</em>! I used to like <em>Olympia</em>, but I +don’t now. Do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Jean frankly. “But I love +<em>Stella</em>, and it means a star!” +</p> + +<p> +“Does it? Honest? Ain’t that pretty,—I +mean <em>isn’t</em> it?” said Limpy, whom Miss +Hamersley was drilling in the rules of grammar. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s the Latin for <em>star</em>,” explained +Jean. “Wouldn’t you like to have us call you +<a id="page-234" class="pagenum" title="234"></a> +Stella? I wanted to all the time, but I was +afraid it would hurt your feelings if I said I +didn’t like ‘Limpy.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I wouldn’t have minded. I’ll be +awful glad if you’ll call me Stella,—it <em>is</em> real +pretty, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, we will,” said Jean. “Now +you’ll be our <em>star</em>!” And so the old name was +discarded with the old unhappy life. +</p> + +<p> +“But <em>I</em> shall always call you <em>Limpy</em>,—it’s +the name I’ve known and loved you by!” +said Frances, her black eyes dancing with +fun. She unclasped her pretty coral necklace +as she spoke, and slyly slipped it around Stella’s +throat, with a little kiss on the ear of the +new maid of honor. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Cinderella made her début in her new world +of sunshine in good time,—not to attend the +“prince’s ball,”—but to enjoy the merry-makings +on the camp-mother’s birthday. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know folks ever got presents on +their birthdays,” Stella said to Cecily when, +a few days before the important occasion, she +heard the question of gifts discussed. “Do +you girls <em>always</em> get presents?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed we do,” replied Cecily. “I got +all my best painting materials on my last birthday. +What a pity yours isn’t coming this summer, +instead of way off in December! It would +<a id="page-235" class="pagenum" title="235"></a> +be such fun to celebrate yours too!” Then +through Cecily’s mind flashed an idea which +sent her away to hold private consultation with +the other battle maids. +</p> + +<p> +The birthday dawned, bright and clear, and +the gay notes of Carol’s <em>reveille</em> summoned the +campers to begin the festivities. Five minutes +after the bugle call, Mrs. Brook and Stella +heard a merry chorus outside their tent. +“Many happy returns of the day, Motherling! +Many happy returns, Stella!” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they saying that to <em>me</em> for?” +asked the wondering girl. +</p> + +<p> +“This is <em>your</em> birthday too, Stella!” Cecily’s +voice answered. “Your half-past fifteenth +birthday! You’re only a very little over fifteen +and a half, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going to celebrate Nanno’s too!” +called Jean. “She’s only <em>just</em> over six.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Leila Myra’s,” added Carol. “We +knew if Nanno got any more toys to quarrel +over, the carnage would be ghastly, unless her +poor abused <em>company</em> had something to console +her!” +</p> + +<p> +When breakfast time came, Stella, her pale +cheeks turning pink with happy excitement, +learned that the exhibition of water sports to +be given that morning had been planned partly +in her honor. At half-past ten she and Mrs. +Brook were escorted down to Camp-Fire Rock, +<a id="page-236" class="pagenum" title="236"></a> +now the grand stand, draped with the Stars and +Stripes, and a troop of girls in bathing suits +entertained them with a varied program. +</p> + +<p> +First came a swimming race between five +of the “freshies,”—Winifred Russell, Lou +Phillips, Ethel Merryman, Dorothy Stone and +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever see anybody take <em>fun</em> in such +dead earnest as Queenie!” said Carol to Nancy. +“Look at her! Even her pigtail says ‘do or +die!’” +</p> + +<p> +The youngest “freshie” did indeed have the +air of one going into battle, as she stepped +into the skiff to be taken by Douglas out to the +float. +</p> + +<p> +“Go in and win now, Jean!” said he, before +the others joined them. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do my level best!” she answered. But +she knew that she had formidable rivals, and +that the majority of the campers expected athletic +Winifred to carry off the prize. +</p> + +<p> +The girls took their places, some in Douglas’s +boat, some in Miss Hamersley’s, and were +rowed out to their starting point. Standing on +the float, they formed in line with arms extended +above their heads. Miss Hamersley blew her +whistle, and they dived as one, and coming up +again struck out, all five abreast, for the anchored +canoe,—their goal. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean’s dropped behind!” cried Betty. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-237" class="pagenum" title="237"></a> +“No, that’s Dot!” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Which is which, anyway?” exclaimed Carol. +“They look like so many seals!” +</p> + +<p> +The watchers on the shore saw three competitors +one after the other drop back from the +line, until a blond head and a dark one were +in advance of the rest. +</p> + +<p> +“Good for Win! She’s going to be winner!” +cried Helen Westover, who had taught +Winifred of the light locks to swim. “Go in +and <em>Win</em>—ifred!” she called. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get your hopes up, Wild Woolly +One,” said Carol. “Jean’s going to leave her +<em>nowhere</em> in a moment!” +</p> + +<p> +“I bet a cookie on Win!” Helen returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I bet the whole cookie-jar full on Jean!” +Carol stoutly declared. +</p> + +<p> +Winifred was a strong swimmer, but Jean +proved a determined little antagonist, keeping +up with her neck and neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Get ahead of her, Winnie,—for the honor +of the Juniors!” called Grace Gardner. +“Don’t let a little lower classman beat you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean,” cried Cecily, “Beat! for the +honor of the Silver Sword!” +</p> + +<p> +Stella squeezed Betty’s hand in her suspense. +And now there remained only a few strokes +before the finish. “Jean’s ahead!” screamed +Cecily. A moment more and cheers burst +forth. Jean was clinging to the canoe! Two +<a id="page-238" class="pagenum" title="238"></a> +more strokes brought Winifred up to the goal. +The others came up one by one. The five +clung to the canoe till they had regained their +breath, and then came swimming back to shore. +</p> + +<p> +Carol waded out to meet the victor. “Come +to my arms, my pupil! I’d rather lose a hundred +races myself than have <em>you</em> beaten!” she +cried, extinguishing Jean in a watery embrace. +“Little Sister, I’m so proud of you,—I feel like +cabling the news to Brazil!” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I was going to give out just before +I got there,” said Jean. “I felt as if I +<em>couldn’t</em> keep it up; but I knew you wanted me +to beat, terribly, and I was bound to do it, so +I just struck out again as hard as I could, and +the first thing I knew there I was at the goal!” +</p> + +<p> +“Three cheers, Joan of Arc!” cried Cecily, +splashing up to them. “I’m so tickled we’ve +beaten the Juniors, I don’t know what to do! +Come and get your prize.” +</p> + +<p> +They led Jean up to the grand stand. “Oh, +Jean!” said Stella, “I’m so glad! I was just +crazy to have you beat!” +</p> + +<p> +“Congratulations, my battle maid,” said +Mrs. Brook, and placed in her hands the prize, +a well-appointed picnic luncheon basket, with +straps to sling it from her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Races between expert swimmers followed. +Then came walking the wet pole. The Huairarwee +flag staff had been uprooted for the occasion +<a id="page-239" class="pagenum" title="239"></a> +and had been fastened horizontally to the +dock, so as to stretch out over the water; and +the feat consisted in walking the length of it +to capture the tiny flag at the end. Olive +Spencer was the first to make the attempt. +She slipped at the third step and jumped into +the water. Grace tried next, reached the middle +of the pole, swayed, and went down ignominiously. +Then, with arms outstretched to +balance herself, Cecily walked confidently along +the slippery way; but as she neared the end +the pole wobbled: she took two running steps +and snatched at the flag, only to knock it into the +water, she herself plunging in with a splash. +She had struck the colors, not captured them, +and in great chagrin she returned to the dock. +Girl after girl tried unsuccessfully. Poor Jean +lost her balance the instant she heard Frances +call, “Go it, Giraffe!” and reappeared, declaring, +“That was <em>your</em> fault, you wretch!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now you watch <em>me</em> get the flag!” said the +Mouse, who had furtively slipped on an extra +pair of stocking-feet, while the eyes of the other +spectators were fixed on Cecily. She was +standing on a rain-cloak meant to wrap around +chilly competitors, and now, as she raised her +right foot to step upon the pole, a sleeve rose +with it. She kicked herself free, but at the +next step the cloak stuck fast to her left sole. +Giggling, she tore it away. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-240" class="pagenum" title="240"></a> +“Hold up, Mousie!” cried Jean. “You +must have glue on your paws!” +</p> + +<p> +She and Carol arrested Frances, and obliged +her to display her soles. Carol burst out laughing. +“Plaster!” she exclaimed. “Adhesive +plaster! The Brown Mouse is guilty of fraudulent +methods!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not!” Frances answered coolly. +“This is a ‘Go-as-you-please race,’ and I +pleased to go sticky! I was going to own up +as soon as I got the flag.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Mousie, <em>go</em> as you please!” said +Carol. “Let’s see how the experiment works. +That’s <em>my</em> rain-cloak you were obligingly walking +off with, I beg to inform you, Miss Francie-Prancie-Dancie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Stick tight, Frisk!” laughed Jean. “<em>Adhese</em>—I +mean adhere—as hard as you can!” +</p> + +<p> +But even the best surgeon’s adhesive plaster +could avail nothing without the art of poising. +Frances should have added a balancing-pole, +for at the fifth step she dropped with a shriek. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! My Mammy gave me that +plaster in case I got hurt, and now I’ve used it +all up on that old pole!” complained the discomforted +Mouse. “I don’t care—it was a +cheat anyhow! It hadn’t any <em>stick</em>! Now +let’s see Betsy tumble off!” +</p> + +<p> +Betty was the poorest swimmer in camp, and +was expected, at best, to carry off only a consolation +<a id="page-241" class="pagenum" title="241"></a> +prize that day; but to the astonishment +of all beholders she kept her equilibrium where +even the most athletic had failed, and when at +last she did plunge down it was amid vociferous +cheers, for the flag was clutched triumphantly +in her hand. Cecily and Jean together led her +to the grand stand to receive her prize,—a new +trout-pole. +</p> + +<p> +Betty’s rivals repeated their attempts till +three more flags had been captured, Jean failing +to the last, but Cecily carrying one off at +her second essay. Then, after an interval of +rest on the sunny beach, came guide-boat and +canoe races; and that day, as on many a preceding +one, Carol and Cecily gave proof that +they excelled all the others in skill at the +paddle. +</p> + +<p> +The water contests were followed by the +birthday dinner. Mrs. Brook and Stella, with +Nanno and her much enduring guest, Leila +Myra, were ushered into the living-room to +find the long camp dining-table in gala trim. +In a corner a small round table was set for two, +and in its center was a frosted cake with six +candles. Here Nanno discovered a gay doll’s +tea-set at her place, and Leila Myra sat down +on the floor in rapture over a red go-cart, the +exact counterpart of Nanno’s. At the main +table were two more cakes, one at Mrs. Brook’s +place and one at Stella’s, both elaborately ornamented +<a id="page-242" class="pagenum" title="242"></a> +with designs in chocolate icing, +wrought by artistic Cecily. These cakes blazed +with candles, the camp-mother’s having a double +row, and Stella’s fifteen, with a half taper +twinkling in the center. Around each was a +ring of small parcels; but before Stella could +untie any of hers, exclamations were heard all +up and down the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! What’s this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know it was <em>my</em> birthday!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, everybody has a present!” +</p> + +<p> +“This must be a birthday for all Camp +Huairarwee!” +</p> + +<p> +Every one of Stella’s summer sisters had +found a parcel on her plate; and so had Mrs. +Brook, Fräulein and Miss Hamersley. A +general unwrapping took place. Jean and Cecily, +Betty and Frances found jewelry cases—little +boxes covered with tiny varnished fir-cones +and acorns. The other girls and the +teachers had all been presented with miniature +cocked hats made of odds and ends of silk, and +lined with layers of chamois skin. +</p> + +<p> +“Motherling, did <em>you</em> make us these darling +ducks of pen-wipers?” asked Marion. But +Mrs. Brook shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I know who made these jewelry boxes!” +said Jean, and she and Cecily fell upon Stella, +who was blushing and giggling between them. +</p> + +<p> +“And I saw somebody <em>sewing</em> something the +<a id="page-243" class="pagenum" title="243"></a> +other day, and she wouldn’t tell what it was!” +said Dorothy Stone. The girls crowded +around Stella, and she was brought to confession. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to do <em>something</em> for you,—you’re +all so lovely to me! Fräulein showed me how +to make the hats, and I worked while you +were off bathing and out walking, and when you +thought I was taking naps in my tent!” +</p> + +<p> +“You Sly-boots!” cried Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought Mrs. Brook’s birthday would be +a nice time to give ’em to you. But I never +dreamt it was going to be <em>my</em> birthday too!” +laughed Stella. +</p> + +<p> +She was kissed and thanked, and her little +offerings heartily praised. Then she was allowed +to open her own parcels, of which there +were no less than twenty-three. Jean had donated +her own favorite book, <em>Lorna Doone</em>; +Cecily had made her a roly-poly pincushion; +Betty and Frances had bought Indian baskets; +Carol had contributed her new belt with its +oriental buckle; Eunice one of her dainty handkerchiefs; +Nancy a pretty necktie; and the other +girls had added each some trifle to swell the +birthday store. When she had thanked the +givers, Stella sat brooding in delight over her +riches, while Mrs. Brook was making a speech +in acknowledgment of her own gifts. +</p> + +<p> +“Stella acts as if we’d given her a gold +<a id="page-244" class="pagenum" title="244"></a> +watch, a diamond necklace, and an automobile +at least!” remarked Nancy. “I believe if I’d +presented her with a spool of darning cotton +she’d have said it was ‘simply <em>elegant</em>!’” +And Stella declared: “I <em>know</em> I’m the happiest +girl in the world! Nobody <em>ever</em> had such lovely +things done for her! I don’t wonder folks +keep birthdays! I think they’re just <em>grand</em>!” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-21"> +<a id="page-245" class="pagenum" title="245"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XIX.</span><br> +THE HEMLOCK AND THE HIST-OH-HIST +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">A</span> week before the birthdays were celebrated, +a challenge had come to Huairarwee. +There were four boys’ camps, all within +a radius of twenty miles from Halcyon: Poke-o’-Moonshine +at Blue Heron Pond, Pitch-off at +Crystal Lake, Tamarack and Catamount at +Lake Algonquin,—and the time had come for +their annual regatta. Halcyon Lake had been +chosen for the contest on account of its central +position and as the region of Huairarwee was +to be invaded, the boys had gallantly sent the +girls a challenge for the doubles, offering them +a good handicap. The girls accepted with enthusiasm, +and immediately selected Carol and +Cecily as their champions. +</p> + +<p> +The course was to run from Big Pine Camp +on the opposite shore, around a stake-boat and +back again,—a distance of half a mile; and on +hearing that the girls were to take part Mr. +Clinton offered a cup as the prize. +</p> + +<p> +Carol sent home for her own beautiful cedar +canoe, the <em>Hist-oh-Hist</em>, and the night before +the regatta it arrived, revarnished and polished +<a id="page-246" class="pagenum" title="246"></a> +smooth and consigned to the care of Hiram +Bolster, the Halcyon boatman, who had pledged +himself to have it unpacked and delivered at +Huairarwee in ample time for the race. +</p> + +<p> +The eventful morning came; nine o’clock +passed,—no Bolster, no canoe. Douglas was +despatched to hurry up matters, and brought +back a message from Hiram’s wife that “Pa +was off somewheres, but he wouldn’t fergit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to <em>dynamite</em> that old Bolster!” exclaimed +Carol. “He promised faithfully he’d +have that canoe up in time, and here it’s five +minutes after ten! Well, we’ll simply have to +take one of <em>these</em> canoes. Oh, dear! but it’s +too maddening! I want my own little <em>Hist-oh-Hist</em>. +We’re chums and we understand each +other! Hiram Bolster, you’re a double-dyed +fraud! Well, come along!” she added. +“Let’s take the <em>Yale</em>. That ought to bring +us luck!” +</p> + +<p> +Carol took her place in the <em>Yale</em> with Eunice +and Nancy to paddle her to the rendezvous; +and Cecily embarked with Helen and Betty in +the <em>Glide-away</em>. Most of the girls were going +by boat to the races, but Jean and Frances were +among those left to drive with Fräulein Bunsen +and Stella around the head of the lake to +Big Pine Camp. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean!” Carol called back, “if Bolster should +come before you start, make him bring the <em>Hist</em> +<a id="page-247" class="pagenum" title="247"></a> +on after us as fast as he can. There’s just a +chance we might get it in time!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” Jean promised, “I’ll stay right +here and watch for him.” She and Frances +stayed on the beach skipping stones over the +water, while the other girls waited in the road +for the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello!” a voice like a foghorn roared behind +them. Both girls jumped. There stood +Bob and Ted Talcott, who had just emerged +from the Hurricane trail, and stolen softly up +to them. The older boy had a megaphone at +his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious! How you scared me!” cried +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“You nearly made me deaf for life!” declared +Frances. “Aren’t you boys going to +the races?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nope,” said Bob. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“We went shooting with Douglas’s rifle, and +Dr. Hamilton found it out, so he’s keeping us +out of the fun.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we’re going up in your big hemlock,” +added Ted. “We can see the stake-boat, anyhow, +and holler at ’em through the megaphone. +Come on up, too!” +</p> + +<p> +“I just <em>will</em>!” cried Jean. “Then if we see +Bolster I’ll megaphone to him not to stop, but +to take the canoe right on as quick as he can. +<a id="page-248" class="pagenum" title="248"></a> +The old poke hasn’t brought Carol’s canoe +yet,” she explained. “Hurry up, before the +carriage comes!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going up, too,—we’ll break our necks, +but what do <em>we</em> care!” said Frances gaily. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll go ahead and pull you up when you +get stuck,” said Bob. +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t need to be helped. We can get +up as well as you can!” said Frances scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brook’s hemlock was famous—a real +giant, dwarfing all the other trees for miles +around. Years before, a series of steps had +been nailed up the trunk, and a platform built +far up among the lofty branches, the lowest of +which were at a dizzy height. If Mrs. Brook +had not forbidden the campers to climb the +hemlock it was because she had not dreamed +that even the leader of the battle maids would +be fired with such an ambition. +</p> + +<p> +Jean and Frances felt their hearts fail them +a little as they gazed up. The steps were mere +wooden chunks, and the rickety platform +looked alarmingly near the clouds. But the +honor of Huairarwee was at stake, and they +would not show the white feather. Ted put +himself at the head of the climbers; Bob followed; +Frances was a shrieking, giggling third, +and Jean brought up the rear. Step by step +the procession mounted. The wooden chunks +<a id="page-249" class="pagenum" title="249"></a> +were slippery, and some of them wobbled in a +nerve-shaking manner. Jean found that to +glance down was to turn giddy, and to look up +was to feel discouragingly far below the +branches. But at last the lowest branch was +reached, and working their way from bough to +bough they gained the platform. Far in the +distance they could see the stake-boat with its +flags, but there was no sign of the recreant +Bolster. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a boat going to the races!” exclaimed +Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Those must be the Fultons who came to our +festival! Give me the megaphone, quick!” +cried Jean, seized with a brilliant idea, and she +called through the great horn, “Hello! hello! +Tell them to wait for Miss Armstrong’s +canoe!” The others helped her in her wild +hallooing by shouting at the top of their lungs, +Frances executing a very war-dance in her excitement. +The young people in the boat looked +up and waved, but Jean dropped the megaphone. +“Horrors! It isn’t the Fultons at +all!” she groaned. “I’ve been yelling at +strangers!” +</p> + +<p> +A whistle sounded from below. Douglas was +coming to announce that the buckboard was +waiting. “Hello! How did you get up +there?” he called, stopping beneath the hemlock. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-250" class="pagenum" title="250"></a> +“Lay low! Here comes teacher! Now we’ll +catch it!” said Ted, for at that moment Fräulein +came out to see what the shouting meant. +</p> + +<p> +If Jean and Frances had waved their hands +to her from an air-ship Fräulein could not have +been more amazed. Her exclamation ran up +the scale to high “C” as she rushed to the +foot of the tree. +</p> + +<p> +“We came up to signal to Bolster,” Jean +called down. +</p> + +<p> +“Come up too, Fräulein! It’s as easy as +pie!” shouted Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“You ask me to climb up! to kill myself!” +cried Fräulein. “No, but I make Douglas go +after you to help you down—dat you break +not your necks! You, Bob and Ted, it is <em>you</em> +vat took my girls up dat tree! I tell Dr. Hamilton, +and he vill export you from his camp!” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas went up the tree as easily as a +monkey. “Well, you’re great old climbers!” +he said admiringly, when he reached the platform. +“It was mighty nervy work for girls!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think we’ll be in time for the +doubles?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have to hustle,” replied Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +They came down slowly and cautiously, poor +Fräulein watching them anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Meine kinder, how could you!” said Fräulein, +reproachfully, as they reached the ground. +<a id="page-251" class="pagenum" title="251"></a> +“Suppose you had been killed,—den vat vould +de poor parents do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine would say I was a child without a +fault,” replied the Mouse. +</p> + +<p> +“Dis is no laughing matter, Frances,” said +Fräulein severely. “It is a vunder you did not +lose your lives! You did very, very wrong! +Ach, did you not know better? Ach, weh, your +frocks,—how dirty! And Jean, how you haff +torn your skirt!” +</p> + +<p> +Then for the first time the girls noticed the +state of their apparel. Frances ruefully examined +the sleeves of her white guimpe which +were torn and soiled, though her brown linen +skirt had withstood the climb. Jean looked +down aghast at her blue chambray, ripped at +the belt and displaying a jagged rent. +</p> + +<p> +“Too bad! That’s such a dinky dress!” +said Douglas, sympathetically. +</p> + +<p> +“My children,” said Fräulein, her kind heart +aching, “it does me much sorrow to tell you, +but if ve start not directly, ve shall be too late +to see our girls race, and so ve haff to leaf +you behind. Dere is no time to vait for you +to change your frocks.” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t take a second,” said Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Fräulein, we can’t stay at home!” +cried Jean. “We <em>must</em> see Carol and Cecily +race! We’ll be ready in five minutes!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-252" class="pagenum" title="252"></a> +“Can’t we wait for them? I’ll drive fast,” +said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +But Fräulein was firm. “If ve vait for you +no vun vill see our race,” she said. “I cannot +disappoint Gladys and Grace and Pamela.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’ll go without changing our +dresses!” cried Jean, with growing excitement. +“People won’t be looking at <em>us</em>! +They’ll be looking at the races! I <em>must</em> go, +Fräulein! I <em>will</em>! My best friends are going +to race, and I <em>must</em> see them! They’ll feel +dreadfully if I don’t!” +</p> + +<p> +“They can roll up in the carriage robes,—then +they won’t show,” Douglas suggested. +“Say, Jean, if you had a pin,—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you cannot go to de Clintons’ camp +like vild Indians; all de summer people vill be +dere,” said Fräulein. “Ve cannot disgrace +Mrs. Brook. You vould haff to dress your +hair too, and dere is no time; ve are late now. +I am sorry, dear girls, but if you <em>vill</em> be jimboys!” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>Jimboys!</em>” tittered Frances. “Jean, you +and I are <em>jimboys</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to your tent, Frances!” Fräulein commanded +sternly. “And you, naughty boys, go +home immediately!” Sheepishly the young +squires departed. +</p> + +<p> +“I will <em>not</em> stay at home!” declared Jean, +her eyes flashing. But Fräulein could not stay +<a id="page-253" class="pagenum" title="253"></a> +to argue. She hurried Douglas away, and Jean +could only follow Frances to their tent. She +changed her dress in a fury, throwing the torn +chambray across the floor. +</p> + +<p> +While Jean was still in the tent, storming +in the bitterness of her disappointment, +Frances, in a clean guimpe, went off to the +kitchen to console herself with cookies, and +came running back with the tidings; “The +canoe’s come!” Out flew Jean, fastening a last +button. Sure enough, there, floating jauntily, +tied to the stern of a guide-boat, was the cedar +canoe, a dainty little queen of the water. +</p> + +<p> +“Bolster must have come while we were +dressing, and now he’s gone!” exclaimed Jean. +“Frances, I’m going to take it over, myself! +There may be time yet!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good for you, Giraffe! I’ll go too, and +we’ll have a jolly old lark!” said Frances, joyously. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have to take the guide-boat and tow +the canoe,” said Jean. “Let me row,—I’m the +stronger.” +</p> + +<p> +They had a good deal of difficulty in pushing +the boat off, but finally succeeded in getting +afloat. Jean took the oars and began to pull +vigorously for the opposite shore. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to untie the canoe and tow it +myself,” said Frances. Suddenly she exclaimed, +“What <em>am</em> I kicking?” and bending +<a id="page-254" class="pagenum" title="254"></a> +over she picked up a can. “Ooh! Ugh! It’s +bait! Horrid little worms!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s bait doing here in one of our +boats?” asked Jean in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“This isn’t <em>our</em> boat, child!” replied the +Mouse calmly. “It’s Bolster’s. He’s in the +kitchen, hobnobbing with Marie.” +</p> + +<p> +“My senses! And you knew it, and you +never breathed a word!” Jean burst into a +peal of laughter. “Well, I can’t help it, now. +I’ve got to get that canoe to Carol in time.” +</p> + +<p> +The fear of being late grew strong, and Jean +toiled on until they were nearly abreast of +Pleasure Island, off which the stake-boat, gay +with flags, was anchored. There were two +men on board, and as their skiff drew near they +hailed the girls with warning shouts. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re yelling for us to go back!” said +Frances. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help it!” answered Jean, and she +called, “We’re bringing Miss Armstrong’s +canoe! Canoe for the race! Canoe for the +race!” +</p> + +<p> +The obstinate little rowboat rounded the +island, and then,—a cry from Frances! “Oh, +Jean, there come the canoes! Go into shore, +quick!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean looked over her shoulder. A quarter +of a mile up the lake she could see Big Pine +Camp and the crowd of boats. But between +<a id="page-255" class="pagenum" title="255"></a> +the girls and their goal four canoes were shooting +toward them. Jean pulled with all her +might to bring the boat nearer the island. On +came the canoes, rounded the stake-boat, and +shot down the lake again. It was the race of +the younger boys. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! We won’t be in time!” sighed +Jean. She rowed desperately, with aching +arms and back, but before she had cleared a +quarter of the distance that lay before her, the +first race was over and another had begun. +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious! The motor boats are coming +now!” screamed Frances, and Jean looked +again. +</p> + +<p> +A friend of the Hamiltons had lately lent +them a motor boat, and in this race Court and +Jack with the <em>Shark</em> and Tom Clinton with +his <em>Lightning</em> were the competitors. Now the +<em>Shark</em> and the <em>Lightning</em> came rushing down +upon the frightened girls. Jean tried to turn +in toward the mainland, but in her excitement +she pulled on the wrong oar. Frances was +shouting at her, her brain was in a whirl, and +the boat was gyrating in every direction. +</p> + +<p> +The <em>Lightning</em> in the lead suddenly swerved +and darted by, giving the rowboat a wide berth. +The <em>Shark</em> followed suit the next moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Get in to shore!” the brothers shouted. +They whizzed by, and the rowboat was left +tossing in the swells. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-256" class="pagenum" title="256"></a> +“Go in to shore, can’t you?—before those old +things come back!” cried Frances. “What’s +the matter with you, Jean? You’re crazy! +Pull on your right oar,—I mean your left!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do stop screeching,—you rattle me +so! I’d like to see <em>you</em> get to shore!” returned +Jean. She collected her wits sufficiently +to pull the proper oar, and brought +the boat well in toward the land. Frances, +looking forward, could see the crowded dock +and the judge’s stand, a float with flags waving +over it. Jean, facing the other way, could +watch the race as it swept around the stakeboat. +</p> + +<p> +“Good! Court and Jack are catching up! +Look, Frisk!” she cried. Unlucky order! +The sudden turn which Frances made sent her +cookies off her lap. She dived for them, and +upset, not the boat,—but the bait! Over went +the can, and forth crawled the earthworms. +</p> + +<p> +“Ooh! The horrid wiggly worms! Ooh!” +Frances drew her feet out of harm’s way. +</p> + +<p> +“Frances, the canoe!” At Jean’s shriek of +anguish, Francis looked back. She had been +towing the canoe carelessly with one hand and +had let go in her excitement. The <em>Hist-oh-Hist</em> +was putting a distance between herself and the +rowboat as fast as the breeze could carry her, +and making coquettish little bows of farewell +as she danced on the wavelets. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-257" class="pagenum" title="257"></a> +“Give me an oar, quick!” cried Frances. +</p> + +<p> +Jean wrenched an oar from the rowlock and +passed it to Frances, but the Mouse in her +frantic haste missed it, and with a splash it +went swimming away after the canoe. +</p> + +<p> +“You idiot! Why didn’t you catch it? +Now we’re stuck—we’ll lose the canoe! Oh, +what made you!” scolded Jean, backing water +madly with one oar and sending the boat +around in a circle. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I couldn’t help it!” said Frances, +with injured innocence. “Let’s yell for somebody +to come and get us!” Both girls waved +their hands and screamed, “Help! Help!” at +the top of their voices. But they had already +become objects of curiosity, and a skiff was +pushing off to their relief. +</p> + +<p> +The motor boats came rushing back, the +<em>Shark</em> now abreast of the <em>Lightning</em>. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it easy! Well come back for you +after the race!” shouted Court. But the +course for the motor boats was to be three +times around the stake-boat, and meanwhile +the rescuer in the skiff was speeding toward +the girls. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Douglas!” they cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep cool! You’re all right!” he called as +he came skimming up to them. “Hooray! You +got here after all, didn’t you! And brought +the canoe within hailing distance, anyway!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-258" class="pagenum" title="258"></a> +Jean and Frances greeted him with the story +of the lost <em>Hist</em>. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in time,” said he. “They put off +our race. It comes next.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, joy!” exclaimed Jean. “Go after the +canoe, Douglas! Leave us here.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ve got to get you into port,” said +the boy, seizing their painter. “Court and +Jack’ll get her after the race. Well, you +<em>have</em> got pluck! First you go up the big hemlock, +and then you get into the races! I’d like +to see the thing <em>you’re</em> afraid of!” +</p> + +<p> +“We were afraid of those motor boats!” +laughed Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“It looked as if you were going to get +rammed, sure thing!” said Douglas. “Wasn’t +it lucky,—I’d just put the horses up and got +into the boat when you started waving. Say! +you must have worked like blazes to get that +boat up!” +</p> + +<p> +Keeping well in shore he towed the boat up +to the dock. The Huairarwee-ites were +wrought up to a high pitch of excitement at +finding who the girls were who had run foul of +the races. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve brought the <em>Hist</em>!” called Jean, +“only Frances let go and we lost her! She’s +way down there!” +</p> + +<p> +“You loves! You lambkins! You little +bricks! You’ve saved the day!” cried Carol. +<a id="page-259" class="pagenum" title="259"></a> +“How in the world did you do it without being +drowned?” +</p> + +<p> +The heroines disembarked amid a babel of +questioning, and told their tale, both speaking +at once in a wild jumble. +</p> + +<p> +“Girls, it was perfectly splendid of you!” +said Cecily. “You were terribly plucky!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m <em>so</em> glad you won’t have to miss the +race!” said Carol. “I was ready to wring my +hands and tear my hair when I found they’d +left you at home, and St. Cecilia nearly wept!” +</p> + +<p> +But poor Fräulein tragically declared, +“Never, never again vill I trust you out of +my sight!” +</p> + +<p> +The <em>Shark</em> was in the lead as the motor boats +came back to the goal for the third time, and +as she reached the red flag ten seconds ahead +of her rival a cheer hailed the Hamiltons. But +the brothers did not stop to be congratulated. +They shot down the lake again after the +fugitive <em>Hist</em>. +</p> + +<p> +It was while awaiting their return that Jean +heard a young lady behind her say, “That +looks like one of the girls that were up in +that great tree! Isn’t she the one that +shouted at us through the megaphone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” a man’s voice responded, “that tree +must be their signal station. They must have +a strenuous lot of girls over at Black Bear +Camp! They’ve named it ‘Camp Huairarwee,’ +<a id="page-260" class="pagenum" title="260"></a> +now,—haven’t they? They ought to +call it ‘Camp Hurrah-wee!’” +</p> + +<p> +Jean’s cheeks grew hot. Involuntarily she +glanced back and recognized two of the young +people whom she had mistaken for the Fultons. +Carol glanced back too. Then, putting her arm +around Jean, she said to the speakers, “Excuse +me,—the girls mistook you for people they +knew. They were trying to send a message to +have my race postponed till my own canoe +could get here.” Her cheeks as well as Jean’s +were flushed, and the quiet dignity of her +manner was enough to check any further comment +on the strenuous girls of Huairarwee. +</p> + +<p> +Jean forgot her embarrassment as she saw +the <em>Shark</em> returning with the <em>Hist-oh-Hist</em> in +tow, bobbing gaily over the water. Court and +Jack presented the captured canoe to Carol +and had their reward in the thanks of the +radiant girl. +</p> + +<p> +Then it became a reality—the race that had +already been lost and won in Carol’s and +Cecily’s dreams. The ten competitors became +the center of interest: eight bronzed, athletic +young fellows, a tall, lithe lass, the bonniest of +all the girl campers, and a fair-haired slip of +a damsel in whom the spirit of a battle maid +was stirring. The girls took their places first, +Carol in the stern of the <em>Hist</em>, Cecily in the +bow, and paddled away to their starting point, +<a id="page-261" class="pagenum" title="261"></a> +fifty yards beyond that of their rivals. The +blue canoes of Pitch-off and Tamarack, green +Catamount, and red Poke-o’-Moonshine were +brought into line. A pistol was fired,—the +paddles, ready poised, cut the clear water, and +the race began! +</p> + +<p> +Thrilling, tingling exultation and delight +Carol and Cecily found it at first, as they +plunged their paddles downward and lifted +them again from the foaming water to cleave +it once more, quick as lightning, with another +strong, perfect stroke. Muscle and will-power, +they threw all into the work. Carol felt almost +as if the <em>Hist</em> was consciously obeying her, and +as if she could infuse her own spirit into this +summer friend of hers; and Cecily, doing her +best to bring glory to Huairarwee, could feel +how Carol’s skill and greater strength were +helping to keep them ahead. On and on they +rushed. Larger and larger the stake-boat +loomed, but as they neared it the splash of +other paddles made them throw one backward +look. Poke-o’-Moonshine seemed to be fast +gaining on them; Catamount was pressing her +hard; Pitch-off and Tamarack were closing in. +</p> + +<p> +Now they were nearly up to the boat with its +rainbow of flags, and they could hear “Go it, +Huairarwee!” “Hit her up, Poke-o’-Moonshine!” +Arms aching, wills resolute, the girls +gathered up that reserve strength that lies +<a id="page-262" class="pagenum" title="262"></a> +ready for the moment of need. The <em>Hist</em> +fairly leaped forward, and with a dextrous +turn of her paddle Carol made her sweep round +the stake-boat, almost grazing its stern. They +heard a cheer, and were on the homeward +course. Less than a quarter of a mile more! +but the exultation in the work was gone. The +race had become for them nothing but desperate +effort—dizzying swiftness of motion. +Poke-o’-Moonshine was fast eating up the distance +between them. Every stroke was pain +now, but both girls had the same resolve, “I +don’t care what happens to me. I <em>will</em> do it! +I <em>will</em>!” They gathered up all their remaining +strength and threw it into the last moments +of the contest. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd of onlookers saw the <em>Hist</em> +darting up to the finish with her red antagonist +almost bumping her, the three others following +them close. Boys were shouting to their +champions to “Hit her up!” and girls, half +mad with excitement, were calling encouragement +to their sisters in the cedar canoe. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Carol! Cecily! beat, beat, beat!” +Jean’s whole eager soul was crying out. As +if in answer, the <em>Hist</em> shot forward. Again, +again, again, the paddles left the water, the +foam boiled up around the bows, and then—a +cheer! The <em>Hist-oh-Hist</em> had passed the +scarlet flag half a canoe’s length ahead of +<a id="page-263" class="pagenum" title="263"></a> +Poke-o’-Moonshine! Amid the storm of applause +the winners glided up to the dock. +</p> + +<div class="centerpic" id="img-i_262"> +<img src="images/i_262.jpg" alt=""> +<p class="cap"> +AS IF IN ANSWER THE “HIST” SHOT FORWARD. +</p> + +</div> + +<p> +Court, at the top pitch of enthusiasm, helped +them from the canoe, and while he was congratulating +them Jean hurled herself on +Carol’s neck, then on Cecily’s, and hugged +them tight. +</p> + +<p> +Freak races and tilting followed; and then, +the regatta over, the victors received their +prizes. Each of the boys was presented with +a banner, and a blue and gold flag was soon +flaunting proudly at the stern of the <em>Shark</em>. +</p> + +<p> +“The cup is awarded to Miss Carol Armstrong +and Miss Cecily Brook, of Camp Huairarwee!” +Mr. Clinton announced. The girl +champions stepped forward and received a +great two-handled silver cup beautifully embossed. +</p> + +<p> +“We present this cup to Camp Huairarwee,” +said Carol, and, while Cecily held the +silver trophy aloft, she took Jean and Frances +each by the hand. “We four won it together,” +she said. And Huairarwee cheered +again. +</p> + +<p> +But two of the victorious quartette found +themselves soon tumbling down from the mountain-top +of glory. After the triumphant return +to camp, and the merry dinner in honor +of the day, Miss Hamersley, with an ominous +face, called Jean and Frances to her tent. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-264" class="pagenum" title="264"></a> +“Now for a squelching,” quoth the Mouse. +Jean’s head went up proudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep a grip on your sword, now, Queenie,” +whispered Carol, with a sympathizing pat on +Jean’s shoulder, as the two battle maids +marched past her to the court-marshal. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Hamersley sternly reproved her adventurous +charges for having run headlong into +danger, warning them that if they showed +themselves so foolhardy again they might expect +to find themselves sent home. With a sarcastic +smile she also reminded Jean that <em>Bob</em> +might have been entrusted with the intended +megaphone message to Bolster, and she assured +them that she considered the hemlock +escapade not only dangerous but hoydenish +and unladylike. This cut Jean to the quick, +and though she closed her teeth tight to imprison +the Storm Child spirit, she retired to +her own tent with angry steps, there to pace +up and down burning with indignation. +</p> + +<p> +“I never knew anything so unjust! We +helped to win the race, and in return we’re +told we may be sent home and disgraced +forever!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, with a rush like a mountain gale, +Carol came in, caught Jean, whirled her round, +pulled her down on a cot, and gave her a warm +kiss. “What’s all this declaiming about?” +she asked, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-265" class="pagenum" title="265"></a> +“Was I talking aloud?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>Were</em> you? I thought it was Hamlet at +least! Poor little Queenie! Did Miss Hamersley +hammer so hard that she had to go off +and play Shakespeare all by her little lonesome?” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol, Miss Hamersley’s too unjust for anything! +She threatened to send us away from +camp!” +</p> + +<p> +“That was only a warning, to keep you from +drowning yourselves, childie!” +</p> + +<p> +“We weren’t in any real danger,” said +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Jean, you were.” Carol’s merry face +grew serious. “You don’t know yet how to +manage a boat in a sudden emergency. Suppose +you’d been swamped by those motor +boats! And it was dreadfully risky, climbing +the hemlock, too! Jean,”—and the clear +brown eyes looked steadily into the blue ones—“promise +me you won’t do such things again. +It would break my heart if anything happened +to my Little Sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I had to get that canoe up to you somehow,” +Jean protested. “You said yourself it +helped you to win.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m sure it did,” said Carol. “And +you were a splendid, brave Joan of Arc to do +it. Cecily’s name for you suits you to a ‘t.’ +And you pretty nearly did get burned at the +<a id="page-266" class="pagenum" title="266"></a> +stake in those dreadful woods, didn’t you, poor +little martyr? But, Jean darling, which do +you think I care most about, <em>you</em> or winning +races?” +</p> + +<p> +“Me, I suppose,” said Jean with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“I should rather think I did! millions and +millions of times! If anything had happened +to you to-day, Jean, I wouldn’t have gotten +over it as long as I lived.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean’s eyes were fixed on her friend’s +earnest face. Suddenly she threw her arms +around Carol’s neck. “I’ll never do anything +to worry you again, Carolie dear!” she said. +“I promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come out, Giraffe!” sang a merry voice. +Frances was peeping around the tent-flap. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Mousie, and comfort your Queen,” +said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Carol,” said Frances, dropping down on +the cot beside her, “don’t you think Miss Hamersley’s +terribly old-maidy to call us hoydens? +I don’t see why it was any worse for us to be +yelling at strangers from the top of a tree than +it was for Bob and Ted. We’re only little +girls, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather sizable and imposing girls, I should +say,” remarked Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“But wasn’t it hateful of those people to +talk about my shouting, and say we must be +a strenuous lot of girls!” said Jean. “I’m +<a id="page-267" class="pagenum" title="267"></a> +glad you spoke up for us, Carol. My, but you +looked high and haughty!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was furious!” said Carol. “But we poor +‘Hurrah-wee girls’ have bobbed up serenely +from our troubles by this time—haven’t we?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed, and I’ll look three times before +I shout, after this,” said Jean, laughing. +“You’ve smoothed me out beautifully, you +dear, old Big Sister!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +That evening around the camp-fire, an exultant +ring of girls woke the echoes with the +latest Huairarwee yell: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse3">“One, two, three, four!</p> + <p class="verse3">Two, three, one, four!</p> + <p class="verse3">What are we for?</p> + <p class="verse4">Huairarwee?</p> + <p class="verse">With a C. and an A. and an R. O. L.,</p> + <p class="verse">and a <em>Ce</em> and a <em>Ci</em> and an L. and a Y.!</p> + <p class="verse3">Armstrong and Brook!</p> + <p class="verse3">And the cup they took!</p> + <p class="verse">Huair rah! rah! rah! rah! rahwee!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-22"> +<a id="page-268" class="pagenum" title="268"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XX.</span><br> +CONSPIRATORS +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>D</span><span class="postfirstchar">ouglas,</span> that’s going to sail like a +dream!” +</p> + +<p> +“Like a nightmare!” Douglas corrected. +He was busy with wood and canvas over a +model of an air-ship, to the building of which +he had been devoting his leisure moments. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to turn out an inventor—I +know you are!” said optimistic Jean. “Some +day you’ll build an air-ship that’ll beat all +the others they’ve ever made, and make your +fortune!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sure! Some day! Some thirtieth of +February!” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Thirtieth of February!” repeated Jean. +“Oh, pshaw! there isn’t any. Well, I know +something you could do now, anyway. Why +don’t you make little toy air-ships just like this +one? I’m sure they’d sell like everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s an <em>idee</em>!” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do it, Douglas!” begged Jean. “I’m +sure you could earn lots of money. You might +make enough to pay your way right through +<a id="page-269" class="pagenum" title="269"></a> +school. You might start a regular fad for toy +air-ships! Do try!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if I <em>could</em> make a hit with this +sort of thing,” said Douglas. “It would help +me out a good bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll earn enough here this summer to +get to school <em>this</em> year, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can get to <em>night</em> school all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Night school! Why, what’ll you have to +do that for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I’ll have to work through the +day,” he replied. “I can get a place in a store +easy enough, and pay my board that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much will your board cost?” asked +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, about a hundred.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fury! But you’re saving up six dollars a +week here, you told me. And you’ll be here +till—?” +</p> + +<p> +“Till September fifteenth,” said Douglas. +“I’ll have sixty-six dollars by that time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that isn’t much more than half your +board! But there are the twenty-five Court +gave you for your canoe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had to use that to pay back a man in +Algonquin. He lent me twenty-five after +Father died,—when I was coming here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Douglas, it’ll be just horrid for you to +go to night school and work all day in a store! +You’ll kill yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-270" class="pagenum" title="270"></a> +“I wouldn’t be good for much if I wasn’t +tough enough for that,” answered Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to ask Father to help him, when +he comes on,” thought Jean, as Douglas ran +off in answer to a call to launch a canoe. +“But oh, dear, that won’t be till October, and +it’s so long to wait!” +</p> + +<p> +A letter from Jean’s parents was due, and +it arrived the next morning and sent her +darting through the camp to find Carol. +“Carolie, I’m going to have a canoe of my +own!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean! not really! How perfect!” exclaimed +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes! It’s a birthday present ahead of +time! Father says he knows I’d rather have +a canoe than anything else, so he’s giving me +my present now instead of in October. He’s +sent word to Mr. McLean,—that’s his partner +here,—to send me thirty-five dollars to buy +one. Now you’ll have the <em>Hist-oh-Hist</em>, and I +shall have <em>my</em> canoe, and we can go out together. +Isn’t it the loveliest thing that ever +happened!” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think it was! He’s a daddy +worth having!” said Carol. “You deserve a +canoe—you’ve worked so hard learning to +paddle, and you do it so splendidly now. +Let’s get Cecily and Douglas to go with us +<a id="page-271" class="pagenum" title="271"></a> +over to Crystal Lake, and we’ll pick out a +beauty for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do hope Mr. McLean’ll hurry up and +send the money,” said Jean. “I want to have +all the time I can to paddle my own canoe! +Oh, my daddy’s such an old darling! I must +write to him this minute!” And setting off at +her usual whirlwind pace she ran pell-mell into +Douglas’s air-ship, which lay on the ground +awaiting its builder. Happily no damage was +done, but when she had smoothed the crumpled +sail, she went on slowly, with a thoughtful +wrinkle in her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +When the afternoon’s mail brought her the +expected check Jean surprised her friends by +her quiet way of receiving her birthday gift. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +A deer-jacking excursion was planned for +that evening, and the Hamiltons and several +guides were to come with skiffs and lanterns +to take the Huairarwee campers out on the +bloodless hunt. Night fell; the stars began to +twinkle between clouds that promised showers +before morning, and while the other girls were +having an impromptu dance in the bungalow, +Jean ran down to the beach on an errand of +her own. Presently a small sun shining out in +the gloom, and a manly baritone, a boyish +treble and a sweet contralto, singing “Here’s +<a id="page-272" class="pagenum" title="272"></a> +to good old Yale” announced that Court and +Rose, with one of the Talcott boys, were rowing +toward Huairarwee with a jack-lantern at their +bow. +</p> + +<p> +“Land ho! Hello, Jean!” called Ted, +turning the lantern light upon the solitary +figure standing like a sentinel on Camp-fire +Rock. Jean ran down to the landing. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the deer are all ready for us,” said +Court as he stepped ashore and helped his +sister out. “I’ve rounded up all the crack +herds in the Adirondacks, and they’re waiting +for us over at Lonesome Pond, with their +company smiles on.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go and tell the girls we’re here,” said +Rose, starting up the path toward the camp. +</p> + +<p> +Ted busied himself tying the boat, and Jean +seized the opportunity to whisper to Court, “I +want to speak to you about something. It’s a +secret. I can’t tell anybody but you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whew, that’s a compliment!” said Court: +“I feel my head expanding.” +</p> + +<p> +A second sun shone out over the dark water, +and they heard a whistle like a screech owl’s +cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s Douglas!” said Jean. “Come +into the boat-house quick—he mustn’t hear for +the world!” +</p> + +<p> +“The plot thickens! I’m getting excited,” +remarked Court. “Ted, I have something to +<a id="page-273" class="pagenum" title="273"></a> +see Jean about. You stay here and patrol the +coast.” He hurried with the eager girl into +the safe retreat of the boat-house. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re all right here,” said he. “Go +ahead! I’ll be an oyster.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to tell Carol till I’ve done it, +because I’m afraid she’ll stop me off, and I <em>do</em> +want to help him!” began Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“First rate policy! Do what you want first, +and ask advice afterwards—that’s <em>my</em> way!” +said Court. “<em>Him</em> means Tony Harrel, of +course.” +</p> + +<p> +“No indeed! It’s Douglas!” laughed Jean. +“He isn’t earning half enough! He’ll have +only sixty-six dollars saved when his work’s +over this summer, and his board in the city is +going to cost him a hundred; so he says he’ll +have to work in a store next winter, and just +go to night school.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know,” said Court. “He’s going to +find it pretty up-hill work, I’m afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he gets thirty-five more,” Jean went +on, “that’ll be one hundred and one dollars, +and then he can pay his board and go to <em>day</em> +school, and won’t have to work. And I’m +sure he ought to get ten dollars for his air-ship—it’s +such a beauty. That’ll help to buy him +some new clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That sounds like good arithmetic,” Court +assented. “But as to the air-ship business, +<a id="page-274" class="pagenum" title="274"></a> +why, as we say, he’d better not take an inventory +of his gallinaceous fowls till they’ve +passed the egg-shell stage! And where are the +thirty-five coming from?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are!” said Jean triumphantly, +holding out the precious check. “It’s my +birthday present. Father meant me to buy a +canoe, but I know he’ll let me spend it any way +I like. So won’t you please take it and get it +cashed and give Douglas the money, without +telling him where it comes from? He won’t +take it if <em>I</em> give it to him. Will you, please?” +</p> + +<p> +Her earnest, pleading look would have made +it hard to refuse her anything. Court looked +down at her with a new expression in his merry +face. But he hesitated. “Jean, you ought not +to,” he said. “It’s too much, and it’s your +birthday present. You mustn’t give it away +like that. We’ll find some way to set Douglas +on his feet without spoiling your birthday. +He’s got to rough it, anyhow. It’ll make a +man of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll spoil my birthday if I <em>don’t</em> do it,” +Jean declared. “Please, Court! I thought +you’d help me, because you bought his canoe, +and you’re all the time doing things for people. +Mrs. Brook says so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my great-aunt’s going to foot all <em>my</em> +bills, you know,” said Court. “Jean, you’re +a trump to want to do it, but you ought not to, +<a id="page-275" class="pagenum" title="275"></a> +really. Your father wants you to have the +canoe, and <em>you</em> want it like everything, too, I +know you do! Douglas wouldn’t have you +spend your money on him for a good deal!” +</p> + +<p> +“But he won’t know it’s my money! And +I don’t want a canoe half as much as I want +to help him, really and truly and honestly! +I’m going to give the money to Douglas <em>anyway</em>—only +I don’t know how I can do it unless +you’ll help me.” +</p> + +<p> +Court looked at her with an odd smile. +“Hasn’t that pin something to do with it?” he +asked, laying a finger on the sword Caritas. +Jean nodded with an answering smile. +</p> + +<p> +“All right. I’ll do it,” said Court. “And +I’ll tell Douglas <em>your</em> great-aunt sent it. Shall +I?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid he’d guess, then,” laughed +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, suppose we don’t give it to him till +the fall. He won’t need it till then, and you’ll +be safe out of the way by that time, so he can’t +give it back!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a fine idea!” said Jean, delighted. +“But please take the check now and keep it for +me, won’t you? The girls will just try to make +me buy the canoe if <em>I</em> keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. I’ll give you a receipt for it. +You’ll have to endorse it, though. Here’s my +fountain pen. Write your name across <em>there</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-276" class="pagenum" title="276"></a> +Jean wrote her name on the back of the +check. “Thank you ever so much!” she said +gratefully. “I’m so glad you’ll help me.” +</p> + +<p> +Her confederate gave her a brotherly pat on +the shoulder. “Jean, I’m proud to know +you!” He took the slim little hand in his big +strong one and shook it heartily. “But we’ll +have to come out of hiding now, if we don’t +want to be caught!” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t tell a soul, will you?” Jean +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Mum’s the word!” +</p> + +<p> +They stole out of their covert in the nick of +time. Douglas had landed already. Jack was +putting in to port; the rest of the guideboats +were following in his wake; and the Huairarwee +girls were hurrying down to the dock. +</p> + +<p> +“You come with Rose and me, won’t you, +Carol?” asked Court. “We’ve got to keep +Toddles in order, and we need consolation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Toddles! Is that his new name for you, +Ted?” exclaimed Carol. “I wouldn’t allow +such an insult if I were you! I’ll come with +pleasure and console <em>Ted</em>! I’m sure he needs +it the most.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dandy dark night for it, isn’t it?” said +Douglas to Jean. “We can get close up to the +deer. They won’t see us at all. You come in +my boat and work the lantern!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d love to!” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-277" class="pagenum" title="277"></a> +“Say! Who’s coming with <em>me</em>?” called +Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Betty and I,” replied Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to manage the <em>jack</em>!” said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Which? me or the lantern?” Jack inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Both of you!” giggled Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Frances,” said Fräulein Bunsen, “Dr. +Hamilton says you are to go in his ship. Now +promise me dat you and Bob vill not play +tricks.” +</p> + +<p> +The flotilla was soon under way, and there +was something delightfully eerie in gliding +through the gloom with the hush of night over +lake and forest, except where the weird hoot of +an owl pierced the stillness. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I ever tell you about the fawn I fished +out of Lake Algonquin?” asked Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“No. Tell me!” said Jean eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“It was last April. I found a doe trying to +teach her little fawn to swim. He was a poor, +weak little fellow, and the water was snappy +cold. He was out way up to his neck, and so +freezing he couldn’t get back. He was nearly +drowned!” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little darling! What a mean old +mother to make him go bathing in <em>April</em>!” cried +Jean indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“She <em>was</em> a kind of a Spartan mother, wasn’t +she?” said Douglas. “Well, I reached over +and fished him out and rubbed him and dried +<a id="page-278" class="pagenum" title="278"></a> +him, and if that doe didn’t stand there watching +me, as pleased as Punch! Then they +trotted off into the woods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you take them both home and +keep them for pets?” asked Jean. “Oh, I hope +some fawns’ll go swimming to-night!” +</p> + +<p> +Sky and water were black by the time they +reached the extreme end of the lake, some five +miles from camp. Then came a march over +the “carry,” the men hauling the boats over +the short spongy trail, to re-embark on the inky +waters of Lonesome Pond. In another half +hour they were nearing the place where the deer +were accustomed to come down to drink, undisturbed +by the blaze of camp-fires or the +sound of human voices. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel as if we were Pilgrim Fathers escaping +from the Indians!” whispered Jean. +The searchlight lanterns had been fastened to +the bows of the boats, and she never tired of +turning hers from side to side, lighting up the +black water, now on the right, now on the left. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a doe with two fawns!” Douglas +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” asked Jean under her breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Right ahead there!” +</p> + +<p> +She flashed her jack forward. There, with +their feet in the ripples, stood the doe and her +twin fawns. Dazzled by the strange light, the +wild mother and her children waited motionless, +<a id="page-279" class="pagenum" title="279"></a> +as if the lantern were Medusa’s head and had +turned them into stone. Their smooth coats +looked white as snow as the light shone upon +them, and Jean wished that they would <em>stay</em> +spell-bound, that she might stroke the pretty +heads of those bewitching babies. But any +sign betraying the human beings behind that +blinding glare would have sent the trio bounding +back into the depths of the woods; and the +canoe passed on, leaving the doe and fawns to +wonder at the next lantern, which was Betty’s. +</p> + +<p> +A two-year-old buck—a most graceful young +prince of the forest—gazed fascinated at their +light, a half mile further on; and as many as +six deer, in all, rewarded their search before +they finally turned homeward. +</p> + +<p> +Thunder was growling as the party came +skimming back toward Huairarwee, and a pelting +shower broke over them just as the girls +reached their tents. Once safe under the canvas, +there was no temptation to step out again +into the rain; but Carol, as she turned to put +out her light, saw an envelope—pierced through +with the point of an umbrella—intrude itself +under her tent-flap. Opening it, she read: +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="addr"> +<em>Dear Big Sister</em>, +</p> + +<p> +I can’t go to bed without telling you, because I +never keep any secrets from <em>you</em>. I’m <em>not</em> going to +buy a canoe, after all. Don’t tell any one, but I gave +my check to Court to-night, and he is going to give +<a id="page-280" class="pagenum" title="280"></a> +the money to Douglas after we have gone away, to +help him through school next winter. Please don’t +try to make me take it back again, for I <em>won’t do it</em>. +</p> + +<p class="sign"> +<span class="sc">Jean.</span> +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Presently an envelope came riding into +<em>Jean’s</em> tent on an umbrella tip, and the note +that she found in it said: +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="addr"> +<em>Darling little Sister</em>, +</p> + +<p> +The sacrifice is worthy of the queen! You and I +together will get Douglas through school somehow, +won’t we? Good-night and a kiss, from +</p> + +<p class="sign"> +<span class="sc">Carol</span>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-23"> +<a id="page-281" class="pagenum" title="281"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XXI.</span><br> +THE RUNAWAY +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>Y</span><span class="postfirstchar">ou</span> dear old Cyclone! I wish they’d let +<em>me</em> ride you, some day! You behaved +beautifully with Carol. You’d be just as good +if <em>I</em> were on your back, wouldn’t you, Beauty?” +Jean stood holding the bridle of Court’s mettlesome +horse, and playing with the jet black mane. +</p> + +<p> +Cyclone had completed his post-graduate +course, and a few days before Carol had ridden +him and enjoyed a glorious gallop. In fact, a +riding mania had developed among the campers, +the girls having learned that there were saddle-horses +to be hired. Three, warranted gentle as +kittens, were regularly engaged, and weekly +riding parties were now the rule, the girls +taking turns. Jean had possessed a pony before +she came to school, and could ride well, but +so far her turn had not come, and she now +looked longingly at Eunice, Nancy and Helen, +whom Court and Jack were helping into the +saddles of Buttercup, Prince and Bess. +</p> + +<p> +A fishing excursion was on foot as well, and +the cavalcade set forth for Shadow Brook, famous +<a id="page-282" class="pagenum" title="282"></a> +for its trout. Court on Cyclone, and +Jack on Tom Clinton’s Dandy, escorted the +three girls on horseback. Douglas drove +Fräulein and ten jolly young campers in a four-seated +wagon, while Miss Hamersley and Carol +were in charge of two surreys. A long journey +over hilly roads brought the party to a farm +where the horses were left, and then came a +tramp through the woods to the brook. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours of whipping the stream were rewarded +with a fine catch. At noon a fire was +built, panful after panful of trout set sizzling, +and luncheon laid out on a rock by the brookside. +The deliciously crisped little fish were +pronounced the best ever fried; but none of +them did Jean count as the result of her angling. +She had, to be sure, landed one little red-speckled +beauty, but her heart had so smitten +her at its pathetic floundering that she had +restored it to the water, refusing to bereave +any more Shadow Brook families. +</p> + +<p> +After luncheon came a shooting match, for +Carol and Douglas had brought their rifles. Carol, +Court and Jack proved themselves excellent +shots, but the honors were unanimously +awarded to Douglas. After beating all the rest +at the hundred-yard range, he fastened a large +piece of white birch bark to a tree, and fired +at it from a distance of twenty yards. It +looked like poor marksmanship when his first +<a id="page-283" class="pagenum" title="283"></a> +shot pierced the bark near the top instead of in +the center, as Jean had hoped; but his next was +cleverly put directly below the first, the third +and fourth each exactly under the last. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold up, Scotchy! You’re wasting shot,” +said Jack. But Douglas continued to blaze +away, and presently Jean, standing at his side, +beheld a large J on the birch target. +</p> + +<p> +“Go it, old Hawkeye!” laughed Court, and +Douglas did “go it,” until a perfectly formed +L appeared beside the J. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like my embroidery?” he asked +Jean, presenting her with her initials. +</p> + +<p> +To Jean that target was a precious trophy, +and she tucked it safely away in her luncheon +basket, resolved that it should have an honored +place in <em>Castle Afterglow</em> next fall. +</p> + +<p> +It was now high time to start home, and they +tramped back to the farm. Horses and carriages +were brought out, and Frances, in high +feather, was helped by Jack into Buttercup’s +saddle, for she was learning to ride and was to +take Eunice’s place on the journey back to +camp. +</p> + +<p> +“All aboard, Queenie! Hurry up, or you’ll +be left behind! Get in with me!” called Carol. +Jean turned from the farmyard fence through +which she was petting two pretty Jersey calves, +to find that the wagons were filling. Snatching +a handful of clover, she gave Carol’s bay span, +<a id="page-284" class="pagenum" title="284"></a> +Major and Billy, a nibble apiece; then climbed +into the surrey beside Dorothy Stone, for +Eunice was already sitting with the driver. +</p> + +<p> +Carol kept at the head of the procession. +Jack, on Dandy, led Buttercup by a strap, keeping +company with the four-seater driven by +Douglas. Court, Nancy and Helen, riding behind +the second surrey, brought up the rear. +</p> + +<p> +On the homeward road the party suddenly +encountered two enormous bears, although +hitherto the campers had penetrated the forests +again and again without meeting any larger +beasts than rabbits and porcupines. These +were tame bruins, however, and their swarthy +savoyard masters were leading them towards +Halcyon Inn. But wild or tame, it was all the +same to Major, on whose side the clumsy creatures +came waddling out from a cross-road. +The bay span had been recommended as well +broken to automobiles, but no one had thought +of inquiring whether they could stand another +and very different test of a horse’s courage, the +proximity of a bear. Major disgraced his military +title by shying violently to Billy’s side of +the road, crowding his mate into the ditch. +This was too much for Billy’s equanimity. +Major’s jumping and dancing were infectious. +Both horses were now plunging; a moment +more and they were running! Carol braced +herself and dragged at the reins with all her +<a id="page-285" class="pagenum" title="285"></a> +might, without the slightest effect. It all happened +with the swiftness of a dreadful dream. +The terrified girls were borne onward with a +fury that made earth and sky swim before their +vision. Trees whirled past, stones flew, the +carriage bounded from side to side and swayed +as if it would go over. Happily, the road was +level for a space, but not far ahead it descended +a steep hill to Beaver Bridge, where it turned +sharply at right angles. <em>There</em>, unless this +headlong pace could be stayed in time, the runaway +must have a fearful ending. Carol wound +the reins about her wrists and pulled in with all +her strength. She might as well have tried to +check the mill-race at Beaver dam. Eunice, +grasping the side of the wagon with one hand, +tried to help Carol with the other. Behind her +Jean sat, gripping the arm of her seat, dazed +with the horror of that frenzy of motion. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, let’s jump!” cried Dorothy, starting +up; and the impulse to spring out seized poor +Jean also. +</p> + +<p> +“No, don’t jump!” shouted Carol, over her +shoulder. “Sit still! Hold her, Jean!” +</p> + +<p> +The quick command brought Jean to her +senses. It came from the girl whom she had +learned to cling to and to trust. Before Dorothy +could throw herself from the carriage Jean +flung her arms around her and forced her back +into her place. “Sit still, Dorothy! sit still!” +<a id="page-286" class="pagenum" title="286"></a> +she cried. “You’ll be killed if you jump!” +She dragged Dorothy down upon the floor of +the rocking, swaying carriage, and held her fast. +As the frightened girl ceased struggling there +came a clatter of hoofs behind. Like a black +thunderbolt Cyclone swept up alongside the +runaway, and Court seized Billy’s bridle. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The instant that Major had shied and plunged +at the sight of the bears Douglas and Miss +Hamersley had pulled up, telling the girls to +get out and stand by the roadside. Court ordered +Nancy and Helen to ride back to a safe +distance, lest their horses should become excited, +and then, putting Cyclone to the gallop, shot +after the runaway. Jack dismounted and lifted +Frances from her horse; then, vaulting into his +saddle again he galloped after his brother. +Douglas, as the last girl leaped from his wagon, +sprang down and held his horses with one hand +and the now dancing sorrel with the other. The +bears came padding toward them, but Douglas +shouted at their stupid masters, and finally succeeded +in turning them back into the cross-road +from whence they had come. +</p> + +<p> +When Cyclone caught up with the runaway +it so happened that the team had swerved over +toward Major’s side of the road, and Court had +no choice but to dash in on the side of the less +terrified animal. Hope filled the girls’ hearts +<a id="page-287" class="pagenum" title="287"></a> +as they saw him seize Billy’s bridle, but the +clattering up of Cyclone had only excited Major +the more. Taking the bit in his teeth he forced +his mate along in a still madder gallop toward +the pitch of the hill. +</p> + +<p> +But Court instantly changed his tactics. +Jack was within speaking distance now, and his +brother, dropping Billy’s rein, shouted back to +him, “Do as you see me do!” Then, giving Cyclone +his head, he dashed forward in advance. +</p> + +<p> +If the descent of the hill were once reached +at this tremendous pace by the flying team, +Court knew that all chance of rescue would be +over. So did Carol, and strained desperately +on the reins. To the four terrified girls it +looked as if their last hope was gone when +they saw their would-be rescuer let go of Billy +and leave them. But the young man knew what +he was about, and galloped furiously on ahead, +followed by Jack, whose spirited mount was +quite as swift as Cyclone. Court let his brother +come abreast and shouted his commands. Suddenly, +when they had gained fifty or sixty +yards on the runaway, the girls saw them pull +up and spring to the ground. Letting Cyclone +and Dandy go, they faced about with arms outstretched, +covering the whole breadth of the +road. +</p> + +<p> +On came the charging horses, the carriage +lurching from side to side behind them. But +<a id="page-288" class="pagenum" title="288"></a> +even Major was not so blind with crazy terror +that he could not see the human barrier before +him. He slackened his pace. In another instant +the brothers, leaping to either side, sprang +for the bridles. Court grasped Major’s—Jack, +Billy’s. But agile as he was, Jack’s boyish +strength proved unequal to the task. Carried +off his feet, he lost his hold and fell, barely +escaping hoofs and wheels. But the young +athlete who had broken Cyclone was clinging +to Major with a grip of iron. He was swept off +his feet, indeed, but nothing could break his +hold, and Major, with a strong man’s weight +dragging from his head, and with his nostrils +compressed by sinewy fingers, shutting off his +wind, had no choice but to bring his wild course +to an end. Before the declivity was reached it +was all over. Panting, quivering, yet subdued, +the horses stopped and stood still. Court held +them and calmed them. A moment more and +Jack, too, was at their heads. The girls sprang +down. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Court!” cried Carol. “You’ve saved +our lives! How can we ever thank you! Are +you really not hurt? Oh, I thought you’d be +killed! How <em>did</em> you do it? How <em>could</em> you +hold on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s nothing when you’re in training. +<em>You</em> held on finely, Carol!” Court tossed his +own action lightly off. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-289" class="pagenum" title="289"></a> +“Eunice helped me splendidly,” said Carol, +loyal to her chum. +</p> + +<p> +“You were mighty plucky, both of you!” said +Court. “How do you all feel? Pretty badly +shaken up?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid poor Dorothy is,” answered +Eunice. “Come and rest on the bank till you +feel better, Dot.” +</p> + +<p> +Dorothy was weak, and trembling from head +to foot, and the other girls, too, were badly +shaken, as their white faces showed. But they +poured out their gratitude, all in one breath, +to the hero who had saved them and the hero, +just as brave, who had failed. +</p> + +<p> +“Much good <em>I</em> was!” growled Jack. “Got +yanked off, the first thing!” +</p> + +<p> +“You risked your life to save us!” said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Jean broke in. “You were perfectly +splendid, Jack! You jumped right for Billy +and grabbed him, and you’re not nearly as big +as Court!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jackyboy’s all right!” said the taller hero, +slapping his disconsolate brother on the shoulder. +“Half the battle was in making the +horses slow up before they got to us. Didn’t +you see how Major weakened when he saw us +standing up in front of him like two scarecrows? +And Billy, he just wanted an excuse for stopping, +and Jacky gave him a good one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean’s a heroine, too!” said Dorothy. “I +<a id="page-290" class="pagenum" title="290"></a> +wanted to jump, but she dragged me down on +the floor and held me so tight, I couldn’t! She +saved my life!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to jump, myself, first,” said Jean, +as Dorothy squeezed her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You can always trust my battle maid!” said +Carol. Her arm trembled as it stole around +the “little sister,” whose life had been put in +her keeping that day. +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments the four-seater was brought +up by Douglas, whose blood had been all on +fire to ride to the rescue. Cecily sprang from +the carriage first of all, caught Jean in her +arms, held her tight, and could not speak a +word. The whole party was soon reunited; +but there was no driving home with the runaway +team—the teachers would not hear of it, +even though Court offered to take the reins; +nor would they allow Frances to mount Buttercup +again. Beyond the bridge was a farmyard, +near which Cyclone and Dandy were +found quietly grazing. There, while the rest +went on, with Jack riding as escort, Carol, +Eunice, Dorothy and Jean waited with Court, +until Douglas returned to drive them back to +camp. Major and Billy were left at the farm +to be called for later. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t somebody going to ride with me?” +asked Court, as he prepared to mount Cyclone +and lead Buttercup. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-291" class="pagenum" title="291"></a> +Eunice and Dorothy were too much unnerved +for anything but a carriage. +</p> + +<p> +“My wrists are too badly strained,” said +Carol. “They haven’t any <em>pull</em> left in them. +Jean hasn’t had a ride yet. How do you feel, +Jeanie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine! I’m all ready!” answered Jean, +keyed up by the excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a little brick!” said Court. “See +here! A girl with your pluck ought to be +riding Cyclone. Want to try him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Court! Really? Will you let me?” +cried Jean, in ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +“I think he’s the horse for you! I’ll put +the leading-strap on him—just to please Fräulein, +you know.” Court put the side-saddle on +the big black horse, changed his own to the sorrel, +and jumped Jean up on Cyclone’s back. +</p> + +<p> +“The Storm Child riding the Cyclone!” remarked +Carol, as she pinned a linen dust-robe +about her for a riding-skirt. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing to fear, for, with all his +fire, Cyclone was obedient to his master’s least +word; and for Jean that ride was the most +glorious experience of that wonderful summer. +As they neared home Court undid the leading-strap—and +to the amazement of her summer sisters, +guiding her spirited charger alone, and +rising lightly to his swift trot, the queen of the +battle maids came riding into camp. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-24"> +<a id="page-292" class="pagenum" title="292"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XXII.</span><br> +UP THE GOTHICS +</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="noindent"> +And, oh, Mammy dear, the best is to come! To-morrow +Douglas and Jack are to take us up the splendid +old Gothics, <em>if</em> Mrs. Brook will let us go. It will +be the biggest climb we have had. +</p> + +<p class="sign"> +Good-night, Mother darling,<br> +Your own little girl. +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">S</span><span class="postfirstchar">o</span> closed the journal letter that Jean had +been writing in her spare moments. Camp +Huairarwee had lately divided its forces. +While the majority of the girls had gone with +Miss Hamersley on a trip to Montreal, the +Silver Sword quintette and Nanno, with Carol +and Eunice, Fräulein and Mrs. Brook, had +taken the two days’ drive to the beautiful St. +Hubert’s region, to enjoy a taste of mountain +climbing. A friend of Mrs. Brook’s had offered +them—for as long as they should desire +it—Chipmunk Lodge, a tiny cottage in the +woods; and here a week had passed, with glorious +climbs up Noonmark, Indian Head, and +the great Giant himself, and finally a night in +camp on the wild shore of Upper Ausable Lake. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-293" class="pagenum" title="293"></a> +Meanwhile, Court and some college friends, +with Jack and Douglas, had set out on a walking +trip, and had reached St. Hubert’s in time +to join the girls in a climb or two. To-morrow +would be the last day at Chipmunk Lodge. The +young men were booked for a hard, all-day’s +tramp, the “round trip” of the principal peaks, +but the boys had planned to spend the day on +the Gothics, and as Jean’s aspiring soul longed +to conquer one more mountain, they had begged +the girls to go with them. Douglas had been +over the trail once, and, as he said, he knew +“where to go to go on.” Mrs. Brook was +afraid that her charges would be too tired for +the drive back to Halcyon, but though she had +not yet given her consent, the boys had promised +to stop on their way to the Gothics, to see +whether she had relented. As Jean was addressing +her letter, in came Douglas to return +her sweater, which, having been packed away +in his guide-basket, he had absent-mindedly +carried all the way to his lodgings. He took +her letter to mail, and Stella, the stay-at-home +on tramping days, followed him to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you won’t get lost on those Gothics +to-morrow, without any guide!” she called after +him. Lingering awhile, gazing out into the +dusk, she caught the sound of footsteps, and +saw a man slip out from behind the corner of +the porch and disappear among the trees. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-294" class="pagenum" title="294"></a> +“Oh, dear! Maybe he wanted to steal something!” +Stella retreated indoors, and peeped +through the window. But in the shadows no +one was to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +The girls awoke next morning fresh as mountain +thrushes, and as Fräulein, too, was ready to +spread her wings again, Mrs. Brook yielded. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Well, how’s this for a sky-scraper mountain?” +Douglas asked Jean, as, after the long +steep climb, they stood at last on the summit. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure it’s as good as an <em>Alp</em>!” +Jean declared. +</p> + +<p> +The climbers were standing deliciously near +to danger, looking down over the precipitous +mountain-side; and beneath them, on the breast +of the steep incline, stretched the glory of the +Gothics, the beautiful, perilous slides! Great, +bold expanses of rock they were, colored with +green and rose, traced with wavy ripples, and +leading to the dark forest that swept downward +to the Lower Ausable Lake. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t that be a corking place to shoot +the chutes!” exclaimed Jack. “Want to try, +Frances?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” she agreed. “Come on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nein, mein kindchen, dat vill you <em>not</em>!” said +Fräulein decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? Douglas says he’s been down,” +said Frances. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-295" class="pagenum" title="295"></a> +“Ach, Frances! eemposseeble!” cried Fräulein. +“None but an Alpine guide could go +down <em>dere</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he <em>did</em> go down last year, with his +father. Didn’t you, Douglas?” said Jean +proudly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what we did!” answered Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you ever do it without breaking +your necks?” asked Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” replied Douglas. +“We didn’t take the top slide—that’s almost +straight up and down. We started in through +the trees over there on that side, and kept on +till we came out on the big middle slide. We +had tennis shoes, so we could walk all right. +But you can’t take a step without rubber soles. +We got in some pretty tight places, too, I can +tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you had slipped?” said Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d have been goners!” answered Douglas. +“See those slides way down there, where +the bushes are? That’s the place to get +smashed up! There are awful pitch-off places +down there, and it’s full of broken rocks.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do when you got down to the +end of the slides?” asked Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“We struck Rainbow Brook and followed it +down to the Falls. Come over this way and +I’ll show you where we started.” Douglas led +the way along the edge to the bushes on the +<a id="page-296" class="pagenum" title="296"></a> +right of the rocky incline. “There!” he said, +“we went down through those balsams. The +ground’s all full of big holes.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll be blown off if we stay in this wind +any longer,” said Eunice. “Let’s have luncheon. +I’m starving.” A sheltered rock was +found for a table, the baskets unpacked, fuel +gathered, and a fire built. A pail of chocolate +was heated, ears of corn were roasted, and the +merriest of picnics began. +</p> + +<p> +“What are the principal parts of gingerbread?” +Douglas inquired, as Cecily was cutting +a loaf of that delicacy. +</p> + +<p> +“Molasses and flour and butter and spices,” +replied Cecily, who had made the loaf. +</p> + +<p> +“Wrong,” said Douglas. “It’s conjugated, +‘Jingo, gingery, gingerbread, gimme some!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much ginger in that!” scoffed Jack. +“Plant Scotchy’s jokes and what’ll come up? +A grove of chestnuts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Plant Jack, and what’ll come up? Something +young and green,” Douglas retorted. +</p> + +<p> +“Plant Douglas, and what’ll come up?” +asked Jack. But what was to sprout no one +ever learned. Another climber had arrived on +top of the Gothics, some distance from them; +and just then Douglas, presenting his tin cup +for Jean to fill, looked up and saw the shabbily +dressed newcomer. The man’s face was turned +away, but there was something striking about +<a id="page-297" class="pagenum" title="297"></a> +his slight, active figure. Douglas let his hand +drop and gazed intently. +</p> + +<p> +“What <em>are</em> you staring at?” asked Jean, and +she turned her head. “Why, that looks like +Tony!” she exclaimed. The other girls +started. Jack, who was lying down at the +feast like an ancient Roman, glanced up lazily +over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“It <em>does</em> look like him!” cried Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“It is. I <em>know</em> it is!” Jean insisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you silly things! What would Tony +be doing here of all places?” laughed Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what I’d like to know,” said +Douglas. “He was back at Halcyon, the last +I knew. But it does look mighty like him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hi, Tony!” said Jack. “Come here and +say howdy! He’s got a grouch on him—he +won’t look around.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we could only have seen his face!” said +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“If you want to see his face, I’ll bring him +back,” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“No, don’t! Don’t go for anything!” she +begged. “If it’s Tony he might attack you! +He’s your enemy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s not my enemy!” said Douglas, +laughing. “I’m going after him;” and he +started up. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, now, Douglas, do leave him alone!” +pleaded Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-298" class="pagenum" title="298"></a> +“Don’t go after him—<em>please</em>!” Betty implored. +</p> + +<p> +“Scotchy, sit down! You’re frightening the +ladies,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas good-naturedly returned to his sandwiches, +and the man disappeared over the brow +of the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly certain it was Tony,” Jean +declared. +</p> + +<p> +“He had a slouch hat just like Tony’s,” said +Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I hope he hasn’t bothered Mother!” +said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope Stella hasn’t seen him,” added +Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +Carol burst out laughing. “You think that +man must have been Tony because he had black +hair and was thin and was dressed something +like him,” she said. “It’s too ridiculous! +And you act as if you thought he was going to +murder you!” +</p> + +<p> +“He hustled off as if he thought <em>we</em> were going +to murder <em>him</em>,” said Douglas. “I don’t +suppose it really was Tony, though.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was, too!” declared Frances. “It was +just his wicked looking back!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he’s gone now, whoever he is,” said +Jack. +</p> + +<p> +The man did not return to disturb the luncheon +again, nor the fun that followed it, as the +<a id="page-299" class="pagenum" title="299"></a> +party explored the mountain-top, penetrated a +small cave, took snapshots of each other, and +played “talking games” as they lounged among +the balsams. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody think up a new game,” said Cecily, +when all the favorites had been exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +“I know what would be fun,” said Jean. +“Let’s all make up rhymes. And we must +make them up in five minutes or pay forfeits.” +</p> + +<p> +Groans followed this proposal. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all very well for <em>you</em>, Miss Poet, +but I couldn’t make up a rhyme if you gave me +a year,” said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you could!” Jean assured her. +“This is only fun—not really poetry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Make it ten minutes, and maybe I can wring +out two lines from my tortured brain,” said +Carol. “We must have paper and pencils, +though. Bunny, dear, may we steal from +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Fräulein, who was sketching the distant view, +sacrificed half a dozen pencils, as well as several +pages from her drawing book, and the boys +produced two more pencils from their pockets. +</p> + +<p> +“One, two, three—go!” said Douglas, watch +in hand, and for ten minutes there was scribbling +and sighing for words. “Time’s up!” +he called. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pshaw! I was just thinking of a second +verse,” complained Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-300" class="pagenum" title="300"></a> +“Eunice, you begin,” said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“No, <em>you</em> read—I haven’t the face to,” said +Eunice. And Carol read: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Oh, girls of Huairarwee, pray where are we now?</p> + <p class="verse">Under the sky, on the Gothics’ broad brow.</p> + <p class="verse">And here’s a charade that I beg you to guess,</p> + <p class="verse">Lest your brains should grow rusty with long idle-<em>ness</em>.</p> + <p class="verse">My <em>first</em> on your shoulder you never should carry.</p> + <p class="verse">My <em>second</em> must solemnly vow not to marry.</p> + <p class="verse">My <em>third</em> in a wilderness vast was once sighed for.</p> + <p class="verse">My <em>whole</em> through next winter will often be cried for,</p> + <p class="verse">When sadly for mountains and valleys we yearn,</p> + <p class="verse">And long for the free forest life to return!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“You did that in ten minutes! Good work!” +said Douglas, and Carol’s audience clapped +vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“<em>Nuns</em> have to vow not to marry,” said Cecily, +as they studied the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“So do <em>monks</em>,” said Jean. “Monk—chipmunk! +Never carry a chip on your shoulder!” +</p> + +<p> +“‘O for a <em>lodge</em> in some vast wilderness,’” +quoted Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“Chipmunk Lodge!” said Betty. “I’m sure +<em>I’ll</em> cry for it next winter when I’m digging +away at school.” +</p> + +<p> +“So say we all of us,” agreed Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m more ashamed of mine than ever,” said +Eunice, and the valedictorian of Hazelhurst, +<a id="page-301" class="pagenum" title="301"></a> +from whom some wonderful flight of genius +had been expected, gave them a single couplet: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“I really can’t think of a word to say!</p> + <p class="verse">The wind has blown my wits away!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Poor Una! If we’d only asked you to +translate a page of the Iliad you’d have done +it in <em>one</em> minute!” said Carol sympathetically. +“Douglas, you come next.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid my voice’ll tremble; mine’s +very sad,” said Douglas. He read in pathetic +tones: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“A chocolate pail up hill I bore;</p> + <p class="verse">Of sandwiches ten pounds or more,</p> + <p class="verse">Some corn, and all the ladies’ wraps—</p> + <p class="verse">But Jack, he carried the gingersnaps!</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">And when on top we had our spread,</p> + <p class="verse">Old Jacky he came out ahead!</p> + <p class="verse">The lunch <em>I</em> carried up, <em>he</em> ate,—</p> + <p class="verse">Since then, they say, he’s gained in weight!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“I’ll sue you for libel!” Jack fiercely declared, +amid the clapping. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, don’t you boys get fighting till the +rhymes are over,” laughed Cecily. “It’s your +turn, Jack.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! ahem! Mine’s called ‘An Ode to +Saint Cecilia,’” said Jack. Cecily started, and +grew rosier and rosier as her cousin read his +ode: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> +<a id="page-302" class="pagenum" title="302"></a> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“We are a party blithe and gay,</p> + <p class="verse">And we have a patron saint.</p> + <p class="verse">She does not on the organ play,—</p> + <p class="verse">Cecilia, here, doth paint.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">A shining halo is her hair;</p> + <p class="verse">Her eyes are like the nut.</p> + <p class="verse">I mean they are than stars more fair,</p> + <p class="verse">And a beautiful hazel,—but</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">No rhyme for hazel do I know,</p> + <p class="verse">So I had to say <em>nut</em> instead.</p> + <p class="verse">Her cheeks like garden roses glow,—</p> + <p class="verse">A dainty pink, not red.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">Her voice is like a silver chime,</p> + <p class="verse">We all of us adore her!</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“I couldn’t get any farther,” explained +Jack. “The time was up while I was trying +to see how to bring in an <em>arctic explorer</em> to +rhyme with ‘<em>adore her</em>.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Jack, I think you’re perfectly awful! You +make me feel so silly!” cried poor Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I like that! Is that all you can say +when you have an ode written to you?” said +Jack in an injured tone. “Never mind, the +others appreciate it, if you don’t! They’re +encoring! I’ll have to read it over again: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">‘We are a party blithe and gay</p> + <p class="verse">And we have a....’”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-303" class="pagenum" title="303"></a> +Cecily tried to snatch the paper away, but +Jack coolly rose and stood before the audience, +and she was held by Frances while the ode was +repeated. Her own turn came next. +</p> + +<p> +“Mine’s too silly for anything, but you know +I can’t write poetry,” she apologized, and she +read: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“I love the beautiful Gothics,</p> + <p class="verse">With the view and the rocks and the trees.</p> + <p class="verse">The smell of the lovely balsam</p> + <p class="verse">My little nose doth please.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“You dear little St. Cecilia, that’s just as +dear as you are!” said Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Frances, it’s up to you,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t do it,” said the Mouse. “I +couldn’t think of any words that rhyme but +<em>giraffe</em> and <em>laugh</em>, and I promised never to call +Jean ‘Giraffe’ again, so I had to give it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Read yours, then, Betsy,” said Cecily. +And Betty replied: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“I shan’t</p> + <p class="verse">For I can’t.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +That was all she had written, but it was undeniably +a couplet. +</p> + +<p> +“Good for Queenie! She’s parodied ‘The +Skeleton in Armor,’” said Carol, looking over +Jean’s shoulder. Whereupon Jean read the +last rhyme: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> +<a id="page-304" class="pagenum" title="304"></a> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Speak, speak, thou fearful guest,</p> + <p class="verse">Who, on the Gothics’ crest,</p> + <p class="verse">In shabby garments dress’t,</p> + <p class="verse">Comest to daunt us!</p> + <p class="verse">We’d rather, in the dark,</p> + <p class="verse">Meet a big, hungry shark,</p> + <p class="verse">Than have thee, wicked Mark</p> + <p class="verse">Antony, haunt us!</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">Break a leg, Tony, do!</p> + <p class="verse">Also an arm or two!</p> + <p class="verse">Then we shall feel less blue,</p> + <p class="verse">Horrible Harrel!</p> + <p class="verse">We girls would breathe more free</p> + <p class="verse">If thou in jail shouldst be;</p> + <p class="verse">We’re so afraid of thee,—</p> + <p class="verse">All except Carol.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“How dare you make me rhyme with Harrel?” +cried Carol, as she joined with a will in +the applause. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, you’re great! Let’s mail that to +Tony!” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“My poets, it is time to go home, before de +night catch us,” said Fräulein, glancing at her +watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Fräulein, not yet!” they pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at those people!” said Jean. +“They’ve just come up. <em>They</em> don’t think it’s +late!” +</p> + +<p> +A guide and three young men had just appeared +on the top, but if they considered it +<a id="page-305" class="pagenum" title="305"></a> +early, Fräulein could not be brought to agree +with them. So the baskets were shouldered, +and the young folks began their tramp down the +trail. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-25"> +<a id="page-306" class="pagenum" title="306"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XXIII.</span><br> +DOWN THE SLIDES +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>M</span><span class="postfirstchar">y</span> watch! I’ve lost it!” Jean’s cry of +distress made Douglas face about. +</p> + +<p> +“Your watch? Why, it’s gone, isn’t it!” +he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” called Cecily, rushing +down to them. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling watch! I’ve lost it!” wailed +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean! And it was such a love! How +<em>did</em> you lose it?” cried Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“I lost it because I was an idiot! I knew +the pin wasn’t firm, but I thought it would +hold. Oh, why was I so silly? Oh, dear! I’ll +never find it! Carol!” as Carol and Eunice +came running down the trail, “I’ve lost my +watch!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean! Your beautiful watch!” The older +girls joined in the mourning. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we’ll find it,” said Douglas. “I’ll go +back and hunt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going with you,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-307" class="pagenum" title="307"></a> +“I am, too,” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I <em>can’t</em>, then!” said Eunice. +“I’ll have to run on and tell Bunny. She’ll +be frightened out of her five senses if she finds +us all mysteriously vanished! Don’t stay long +up there. If you don’t find it quickly, come +right down, or we’ll send the whole force of +guides after you. The boys can go and look +for it to-morrow. But you <em>must</em> get back before +dark. Take good care of them, Douglas!” +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the party were well in advance. +Frances, ambitious to reach home first, had +scurried on ahead, pursued by Jack and Betty. +Fräulein, who was never at ease when the +Mouse was out of sight, had sped after the +runaways. Eunice now hurried after Fräulein, +while Douglas and Jean, Carol and Cecily, retraced +their steps to the top. The three men +and the guide whom they had seen on the summit +passed them as they went up, and in reply +to their questioning said they had seen nothing +of the missing treasure. They had met a man +near the slides; maybe he had picked it up. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to hunt around in that cave,” +said Jean, as they reached the top. “I remember +how I kept catching on the bushes when I +was crawling in.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’d better divide up, two and two, and +<a id="page-308" class="pagenum" title="308"></a> +hunt in different places,” said Carol. She and +Cecily turned away to find the clump of balsams +where the rhymes had been written. +</p> + +<p> +Jean and Douglas searched the cave in vain, +and coming back walked along the edge of the +precipice, studying every step of their path. +No tiny crystal face or golden disk appeared, +and no happy cry of “Found!” came from the +other searchers. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! There’s a man down there on the +slides!” Douglas suddenly cried out. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Do you think that’s the man we +saw?” +</p> + +<p> +“Get out the glass,” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +Jean had slung Eunice’s field-glass across +her shoulder for the homeward tramp. She +whipped it from the case and tried to keep her +gaze steadily fastened on the figure far below. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure it is!” she cried. “Only the +glass wiggles so! I can’t keep it still! <em>You</em> +look.” Douglas took the glass, and while he +gazed in his turn, Jean watched the man +breathlessly. He had stepped out from the +trees bordering the edge of the middle slide, and +was standing on the great central expanse of +rock. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it he?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t tell from here, but it looks like him, +and I bet he’s got your watch!” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-309" class="pagenum" title="309"></a> +Jean started. “Douglas, I <em>know</em> he has! Oh, +look! He’s going down!” +</p> + +<p> +They saw the man drop down upon all-fours, +crawl out to the middle of the slide, and then, +crouching, coast downward. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder where the old sneak was hiding all +the time!” said Douglas. “Took a nap in that +cave, maybe. You old rascal, we’ll send detectives +after you if we don’t find that watch. He +doesn’t know there’re two detectives looking +at him now through a glass, does he? Thinks +he can sneak off and nobody spot him!” +</p> + +<p> +They watched the coaster slide and stop, and +slide and stop. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“‘Break a leg, Tony, do!</p> + <p class="verse">Also an arm or two!’”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +quoted Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t! He might!” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, don’t you want him to? My dear +sir, +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">‘We’d breathe more free</p> + <p class="verse">if thou in jail shouldst be!’”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +A moment later Jean gave a sharp cry. The +man was falling. His feet had shot out from +under him, and he was sliding swiftly, helplessly +down that terrible sweep of rock to +rocks more terrible below. Jean drew back and +<a id="page-310" class="pagenum" title="310"></a> +shut her eyes. All at once there came a glad +cry from Douglas. “He’s stopped! He’s +caught!” Jean looked again. Some ridge of +rock must have checked the man in his rush to +almost certain death, and there he lay, nearly +at the bottom of the central slide. Douglas +looked through the glass and saw the man move +as if trying to rise, then drop back and lie +motionless. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid he’s awfully hurt,” said the +boy. “I’ll have to go down to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Douglas, don’t! Don’t go down!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have to. He’s hurt, or he wouldn’t +he still like that. I can’t leave him there all +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m sure it’s Tony!” +</p> + +<p> +“What if it is? He’s hurt, and there’s +nothing to do but go down and help him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he may not really be much hurt, and +he might hurt <em>you</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry—I’ll be all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you might fall!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not with tennis shoes. Can you take home +the guide-basket?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but listen! You know I want to +save him, just as much as you do! But why +can’t we hurry down and send out guides to +help him instead? You can’t do any good. +You can’t carry him down the slides all by +yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-311" class="pagenum" title="311"></a> +“Well, I can’t leave him there alone, anyhow. +If he’s too much hurt to go on down, I’ll +wigwag up to you, and then you hurry along +and send the guides after us.” +</p> + +<p> +Obscured by the bushes, but lying directly +below them, was the top slide, that almost perpendicular +wall, and Douglas took a step downward +through the balsams. Jean caught his +arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas, stop! You’re not going down +<em>that</em> way!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am. It’s the quickest. Don’t be so +scary. I’ll hang on to the bushes along the +edge, and I’ll be all right. Good-by—take care +of yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by, Douglas. I’ll wait here, and then +if you signal, I’ll <em>tear</em> down and get the +guides.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean watched him plunge in among the balsams; +then she turned. In the distance she +saw Carol and Cecily, all unconscious of what +had happened. She called to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you found it?” called Cecily, and she +and Carol came up on a run. +</p> + +<p> +“Tony’s fallen down the slides and Douglas +has gone after him!” was Jean’s greeting. +</p> + +<p> +Carol and Cecily rushed to look over the +precipice. “He’s killed!” cried Cecily, as she +saw the motionless figure below. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he’s not; but he’s hurt, and Douglas +<a id="page-312" class="pagenum" title="312"></a> +has started down right over the slide here! I +couldn’t stop him. He would go!” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that just like a boy, to choose the +wildest way to do a thing!” exclaimed Carol. +“Oh, dear, I hope he knows what he’s about! +Where’s that place we saw the top slide from?” +They hurried to a spot where the bushes no +longer hid the slide from their view, and saw +the boy cautiously descending the danger-path. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, look! That man’s moving! He’s +sitting up!” cried Jean, suddenly, looking +through the field-glass. She handed it to +Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Now he’s lying down again. He must have +broken a leg,” said Carol. +</p> + +<p> +By this time Douglas had reached the end of +the first slide. He pushed through the bushes +at its foot and came out on the central one. +The glass passed from hand to hand as they +watched his progress. Without a misstep he +reached his goal, and they saw him drop down +by the man’s side. They waited for him to +wave for help, but the signal did not come. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re going down!” cried Jean. Without +rising, the man began to let himself down +slowly, Douglas walking at his side. Hurt or +not, he was able to make his way downward, +and the sure-footed boy kept close to him. +They disappeared for a while among the low +trees and boulders separating the slides. But +<a id="page-313" class="pagenum" title="313"></a> +Douglas came into view again, and suddenly the +man was standing erect beside him. The next +moment only <em>one</em> was standing there. A cry of +horror broke from the girls. Douglas had +fallen and was plunging down over the cruel +rocks, down the cliff to the forest at its base. +</p> + +<p> +“Tony struck him! I saw him! He struck +him!” Carol’s voice was tense and strained, +and she was white to the lips. Looking through +the field-glass she had seen what the others had +not, and the glass had almost fallen from her +hands in the shock. The man who had struck +the blow she no longer doubted was Tony +Harrel. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s killed him! Oh, Carol! He’s killed +him!” cried Jean, clinging in an agony to the +older girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Carol, do you think he’s dead?” asked +Cecily, trembling and awestruck. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” answered Carol. “I <em>won’t</em> think +<em>that</em>! But he must be fearfully hurt. There’s +only one thing to do! I must go down to him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Carol, no!” began Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes I must. It’s the only thing to do. +You and Jean must go home as fast as you can, +and send back guides to help us. Can you find +your way down the mountain alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Cecily. “But you mustn’t +go down, Carol. You’ll kill yourself! Oh, +<em>don’t</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-314" class="pagenum" title="314"></a> +“I’m going with you, Carol!” cried Jean. +“Let Cecily go for the guides. I won’t let you +go alone. Tony might kill you!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Jean, you must <em>not</em> go with me! If +Cecily goes alone she may lose her way, or fall, +and nobody’ll know what’s happened to any of +us; but if you go together you can help one +another.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m going down to Douglas, too! I +<em>will</em> go! I <em>will</em>! You <em>shan’t</em> stop me!” Jean +declared passionately. +</p> + +<p> +Carol laid her hands on Jean’s shoulders, +and looked into the wild, frightened eyes. Her +girlish face had grown stern in its resolution, +and Jean felt the power of that steadfast gaze. +“You <em>must</em> obey me!” she said. “It’s the only +way to save his life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But don’t go down those frightful slides, +Carol!” pleaded Cecily. “Can’t you keep in +the woods all the way? Tony might try to +hurt you!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he won’t. There’s not the slightest +danger. He wouldn’t <em>dare</em> to touch me! I’m +not one bit afraid of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, look! look!” exclaimed Jean. “There +he goes now!” +</p> + +<p> +The boulder from which Douglas had fallen +was not far from the border of the slide, and +the man, instead of continuing the descent of +the cliff, had crawled rapidly among the rocks +<a id="page-315" class="pagenum" title="315"></a> +and bushes to the edge. Now they saw him rise +up and disappear into the woods. +</p> + +<p> +“There now!” said Carol. “You see he’s +gone another way. I’m going down the slides—if +a boy can do it, <em>I</em> can! I’ll only keep in +the woods till I get to the middle slide; then +I shan’t meet him at all. Now, Jean, give in. +Every moment we waste here counts!” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to go <em>with</em> you!” cried Jean piteously. +“Cecily won’t be hurt; she’ll catch up +with the others. But you’re my sister—if +you’re killed, I want to be killed, too! Let me +go with you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, darling,” said Carol, “don’t you love +me enough to do the only thing that will help +me? If you want to save <em>me</em>, as well as Douglas, +do what I say and get the guides.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jean, <em>do</em> come!” Cecily begged. +“We’ve got to obey orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—I will—I’ll go for the guides.” The +words came hard, but Jean had yielded. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then,” said Carol, “we haven’t a minute +to lose. Give me your handkerchiefs, girls—I +must have something for bandages—and +your ribbons—your belts—your neckties—anything +to bind!” While she spoke she was examining +the contents of the guide-basket. +“Here’s Fräulein’s cloak—that’s good—and +the pail—I’ll need it for water. Douglas said +there was a brook down there.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-316" class="pagenum" title="316"></a> +“Take my sweater, too,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“And mine,” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ll tie them around my waist. Put +the other things in the basket.” They packed +the basket with lightning haste and fastened it +to her shoulders. “Now, girls,” she said, +“don’t stop another second!” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol, go slowly,” begged Jean. “Don’t +slip! Be careful! For <em>my</em> sake!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will. Good-by!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean and Cecily threw one look at Carol starting +fearlessly on her way. Then they darted +over the mountain-top to the trail. Down it +they ran recklessly, making good speed at first. +But the running and jumping over roots and +stones proved too much for one of Cecily’s +overtaxed shoes. The sole broke, and after +that there was no more hurrying. Poor Cecily +could only shuffle painfully along, and they lost +all hope of overtaking the others. It seemed +as if they spent hours and hours upon that trail, +and by the time they reached the base of the +mountain night appeared to have fallen already, +so dark were the woods. But at last they were +out of the forest, and on the road, where it was +only dusk. A long walk was still before them, +but they plodded on bravely until, the weary +pilgrimage over, they saw the lighted windows +of Chipmunk Lodge. Mrs. Brook, Fräulein +<a id="page-317" class="pagenum" title="317"></a> +and Eunice were on the doorstep anxiously +awaiting them. +</p> + +<p> +“Children, are you here at last?” cried Mrs. +Brook. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are Carol and Douglas?” asked +Fräulein and Eunice together. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be frightened, Mother; we had to +come back alone,” Cecily began, as they stepped +into the living-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Tony knocked Douglas down the slides, and +Carol’s gone down after him!” interrupted +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, Jean, you’re frightening Mother! +Let <em>me</em> tell,” said Cecily. Betty, Frances and +Stella had sprung from the fireside, and there +was a confusion of questioning. +</p> + +<p> +“Girls, you must keep quiet till Cecily can +tell us what has happened,” said Mrs. Brook. +And calmed by her mother’s comforting presence, +Cecily told the story. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Stella knelt on the hearth, her cold hand +locked in Jean’s. “<em>It was Tony!</em>” she suddenly +burst out. “I’m <em>sure</em> it was! I saw a +man around here last night, but it was so dark +I couldn’t tell who it was. And, oh, I remember +I told Douglas I hoped he wouldn’t get +lost on those Gothics! Tony must have heard +me—and that’s how he knew Douglas was going +up! He always hated him!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-318" class="pagenum" title="318"></a> +“These children must have their supper right +away,” said Mrs. Brook, when the story was +ended. “Bring it here, and let them have it by +the fire, girls. I must go after the guides.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go with you,” said Frances. She +lighted a lantern, and they set out for the +guides’ headquarters. +</p> + +<p> +“Fräulein,” said Eunice, “let’s go and tell +Court. He’ll know what to do. I’m sure +he’ll want to start right off, himself, to find +them.” She brought another lantern, and, +with Fräulein, hurried down the dark hill to +Court’s lodgings. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later Mrs. Brook and Frances +came back, ready to despair. All the guides +were out, and of those expected home that night +no tidings had as yet been received. There +was nothing to be done but wait for Court; +and Mrs. Brook ordered the worn-out girls to +bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me stay up with you,” Stella pleaded. +“I <em>couldn’t sleep</em>! And there’s nothing else +I can do to help.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brook looked into the white, imploring +face. “Yes, Stella,” she answered, “you may +stay, but no one else.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go upstairs, but I <em>can’t</em> go to bed,” said +Jean. “I <em>must</em> be up when they bring Carol +and Douglas back. I don’t care if I <em>am</em> tired +out! It was all my fault for losing my watch!” +<a id="page-319" class="pagenum" title="319"></a> +She went up to her room, threw herself down on +her cot, and tossed about in her misery. +</p> + +<p> +It was after midnight when she heard the +door open and Court’s voice saying, “Here we +are!” She sprang from her bed in sudden +hope and dashed downstairs. It was only Fräulein +and Eunice he had brought. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Alice, it’s been an outrageous delay!” +he said. “But we’re only just back from our +tramp. We’re all ready to start now, though. +I’m going to take the guide we had to-day and +go to the top and then down the slides, and +Clinton and some other fellows are going to follow +up along Rainbow Brook to meet us. Give +me a wrap for Carol. We’ve got everything +else.” +</p> + +<p> +His aunt handed him her own heavy cloak, +and some luncheon that she had prepared. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think you’ll save them?” asked +Jean faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“Save them? Of course!” answered Court. +“Douglas is a great strapping fellow—he can +stand anything! And Carol, why, I’d trust her +to climb the Matterhorn! Cheer up,” he called +back, as he went out. “We’ll have them home +before you know it!” +</p> + +<p> +“We must all go to bed now, and get what +rest we can,” said Mrs. Brook. Very tenderly +she kissed the three sad-faced girls, Eunice, +Jean and Stella. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-320" class="pagenum" title="320"></a> +There was nothing to wait for now. Jean +went forlornly upstairs again, and buried her +face in her pillow. Court’s words had cheered +her only for a moment. “It was all my carelessness!” +she sobbed, in a passion of tears, the +bitterest she had ever shed. “I’ve killed +Douglas—and I’ve killed my Carol! Oh, +Carol, you darling, you darling!” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-26"> +<a id="page-321" class="pagenum" title="321"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XXIV.</span><br> +LIFE OR DEATH +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">C</span><span class="postfirstchar">arol</span> started down over the steep of the +Gothics, conscious that she was going +into grave danger, but her excitement was so +great that she felt no fear. She had a cool head +and a steady eye, and could look down into those +terrible depths without giddiness. She descended +cautiously through the low bushes +which grew just under the bare rock of the +mountain-top. Soon, however, the balsams +rose higher than her head. It was like venturing +out beyond one’s depth when one has hardly +learned the swimming stroke. The trees closed +over her and she was drowned in a sea of evergreens. +Down, down, she burrowed her way. +Her face and hands were scratched, but she had +no thought to spare for her own discomfort. +In desperation she fought her way blindly, in +constant danger from the holes hidden in that +treacherous ground. At last the stretch of balsams +gave place to a growth of trees larger and +less dense. Taking fresh heart, Carol pushed +on, ever downward, step by step, occasional +glimpses of the slides showing her that she had +<a id="page-322" class="pagenum" title="322"></a> +kept a straighter course than she had dared +to hope. For some time a sharp ravine separated +her from her goal, but it grew shallower +as she went on, until it suddenly ended, and +she found herself out of the woods and standing +on the great central slide. +</p> + +<p> +Above her and beneath spread the Gothics’ +mighty breastplate of stone. She gazed up at +the frowning mountain, and then down the +awful and precipitous incline at her feet, down +over the vast dark forest below to the narrow +black line of the lake. Then she began her descent +of the slide, keeping close to the edge. +The wind came sweeping in fierce gusts, threatening +to carry her off her feet. She braced +herself against the gale by grasping at the +branches of the frail little trees bordering the +slide. The fear of hidden holes such as had lain +in wait for her in the woods above, and the need +of seeing where she was going, made her keep +to the rock. Firmly she planted her steps. +To lose her footing would, she felt, mean to +lose life itself. Steadily, steadily down that +headlong slant she went, until she reached the +broken boulders at its foot. Below these again +were sheer perpendicular falls of rock. It +seemed impossible to descend further. But she +had come to save a life; she must hold her own +less precious, and go on. Resolutely Carol +turned her face to the cliff and let herself down<a id="corr-16"></a>, +<a id="page-323" class="pagenum" title="323"></a> +inch by inch. Again and again she had to support +her weight by clinging with her hands to +sharp and jagged ledges, while her feet sought +resting places beneath, well knowing that, failing +to discover a foothold, she must fall to the +broken rocks below. The gale continued its +assaults. Once a furious gust drove her for +refuge behind a boulder that seemed to hang +poised and ready to roll thundering down the +mountain-side. +</p> + +<p> +How the desperate feat was accomplished she +hardly knew herself, but at last, those steeps +and ledges safely passed, she crossed the gentler +slope of the last slide. The trees made a dark +wall in front of her; and somewhere near her, +she knew, Douglas lay, bruised, and helpless—perhaps +dead. She felt a dread of coming upon +that white face and seeing all the cruel marks +of the fall; but a moment more and she had +stepped boldly through the trees. She found +herself in a twilight of deep shade. Just below +her was the dry bed of a brook, and there on the +stones lay the boy, his face upturned. Carol +stepped quickly down the bank and dropped on +her knees beside him. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes were closed, and there was perfect +stillness. A great cut ran backward from his +temple, and the blood had flowed freely, drenching +his thick, fair hair. She touched his face +softly—the skin was cool in the chill air, but +<a id="page-324" class="pagenum" title="324"></a> +there was no unnatural coldness. She lifted his +hand—it was icy, and no pulse-beat answered +her pressure. Had the throbbing stopped forever? +She unslung her heavy guide-basket, and +laid her ear against his heart. There was a +slow but regular beating. Life was there! +</p> + +<p> +She loosened his collar and belt to give him +ease in breathing, and drew his jacket over his +chest for warmth; then turned to unpack the +few things that she had brought to help her in +her fight against death. One of the sweaters +she rolled up and laid under the boy’s head to +protect it from the stones. +</p> + +<p> +Her brain worked as busily as her hands. +Water! Of all things she must have water +first! Here was the bed of Rainbow Brook, but +where was the stream itself? She took the tin +pail and went down along the stony channel. +She had not far to go. There was the water, +a mere thread of a rill, coming up from the +stones under which it had been trickling. +Carol filled her pail with the aid of her tin cup. +Then she went back to Douglas, and kneeling +beside him sprinkled the cold water on his face, +and raising his head tried to pour a little between +his lips. She bathed his face and bound +a folded handkerchief over the wound. Then +she rubbed his hands and wrists vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +Now for the other restorative—heat. Douglas +had lighted the picnic fire, and she found +<a id="page-325" class="pagenum" title="325"></a> +his match-box in his pocket. But to protect +him from the cold before a fire could be built +she spread out beside him the cloak that she +had brought, and putting all her strength into +the work slowly and carefully raised and +turned him until he was lying upon it. While +moving him she heard a low moan. The cloak +served both for bed and covering. She laid a +sweater over his chest for additional warmth, +and wrapped her own about his feet. Gathering +sticks and dry leaves she kindled her little +fire, and built a half circle of stones around it +to keep in the heat. She took the cover of the +pail and Douglas’s bent drinking-cup and set +them on the hot stones. Her own cup she +filled and placed among the embers. When the +tins were heated she put them in the folds of +the sweater which she had wrapped about the +boy’s feet. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas turned his head slightly. She began +to rub his hands again, and as she worked his +eyelids opened, closed again and opened once +more. Carol took the smoking cup of water +from the fire, cooled its brim from her pail and +brought it to her patient. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean,” murmured the boy, as she raised +his head to give him the hot drink. +</p> + +<p> +“This isn’t Jean,—this is Carol,” she said. +“Here’s water, Douglas. Try it, just a sip.” +She put the cup to his lips and found that he +<a id="page-326" class="pagenum" title="326"></a> +could swallow; but after two or three sips +he seemed exhausted and closed his eyes again. +She put back the cup to keep hot. Then she +looked about her. How dark it was growing! +Night was coming on, and a cold night too! +What time was it? She looked for the boy’s +watch: it was gone! Skirting the slides Tony +must have come down and robbed the unconscious +lad. +</p> + +<p> +Carol pushed her way through the woods +again to collect all the fuel she could find before +the darkness should make further search +impossible. By the time she had an encouraging +pile, there was blackness everywhere +except in that small circle around the fire. +Douglas was now conscious, but pitifully weak +and bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You had a fall, dear,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“He had it!” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“He had what, Douglas?” +</p> + +<p> +“The watch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean’s watch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas, do you know me?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Carol,” he said faintly. Then he +moaned. +</p> + +<p> +“What hurts you, Douglas? Tell me where +the pain is.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-327" class="pagenum" title="327"></a> +“My leg,—my head!” +</p> + +<p> +Carol found by pressure that a spot on the +right leg gave him intense pain. “It’s +broken!” she thought. “What can I do for +the poor boy?” She chose out several thin +branches from her little woodpile, stripped +them and lashed them together with ribbons +and ties, making two very fair splints. These +she placed one on each side of the broken leg, +fastening them firmly but gently with the strap +of the guide-basket and the belts. What other +injuries there might be she could not tell, but +he was evidently suffering greatly. It tortured +her to think of the miserable little she +could do for him. To tend the fire, to give sips +of water in his conscious moments, to keep him +from casting off the wraps in his restlessness, +to try with her soft voice and touch to sooth +him,—this was all. +</p> + +<p> +Carol realized that her own plight was +wretched enough. For the first time in her life +she was learning what suffering with hunger +meant. A cup of hot water was her only +supper—there was not a crumb left in the +basket. And she was cold, without her sweater. +It was hard to believe that this was August. +Fortunately, the gale had subsided; but her +heap of fuel was dwindling alarmingly. She +strained her ears for the sound of voices, but in +<a id="page-328" class="pagenum" title="328"></a> +vain. And the longer she waited the more convinced +she became that harm had befallen Jean +and Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +The night wore on. A score of times she +groped her way up the bank to the foot of the +slides in the faint hope that she might see help +coming. How darkly the mountain loomed! +How black the sky was! Long before dawn +she threw her last stick on the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll die if the night lasts much longer!” +thought Carol. She dropped down by the +boy’s side, put her arms about him to keep the +cold away, and so waited for the first gray of +morning. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-27"> +<a id="page-329" class="pagenum" title="329"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XXV.</span><br> +THE VIGIL ENDED +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">W</span><span class="postfirstchar">hile</span> night still hung black in the +forest Carol rose up from her sleepless +vigil, faint with hunger and cramped and +stiff with cold, and went out into the open +again to look for the morning. The wind was +dying down and the sky had changed from black +to deep purple-gray,—the twilight of earliest +dawn. Back she went to her post. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s beginning to be morning, dear,” she +said softly. “You won’t have to lie here much +longer now. They must come soon.” +</p> + +<p> +The boy did not seem to hear. She put her +arms about him again, her head drooping with +weariness, and ringing with hunger-faintness; +and waited till daybreak should find its way +among the trees and give her light to search +for more wood. Suddenly came a sound,—a +call. She sprang up and listened. It came +again. Exhaustion was all forgotten. She +scrambled up the bank and dashed through the +trees. Dawn was coming quickly, and in the +gray light two figures appeared far above her +at the top of the last slide. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-330" class="pagenum" title="330"></a> +“Hello! hello!” rang out, and lanterns were +flourished. +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am! Here! here!” she called, and +waved her arms. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re coming!” one of them shouted back. +He did not wait to call a second time. Down +he shot, clearing the whole length of the slide +in what seemed but a moment. +</p> + +<p> +Carol held out both hands to him as he +reached her side. And after the long agony of +the night came her cry of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Court! Court! I’m so glad! I thought +you’d never come!” +</p> + +<p> +“Carol! Thank God you’re safe!” Down +went the lantern. Court gathered up her cold +hands in his strong, tight grasp that hurt yet +comforted, and looked down into her face with +anxious intensity, as if not even touch and +sight could convince him that he had found her +at last. +</p> + +<p> +But Carol withdrew her hands from that kind +clasp and turned away. She could have fought +on bravely had she been called to endure still +the loneliness and fear, the torture of seeing +the pain that she could not ease; but this +coming of safety, comfort, protection, was +breaking down her fortitude. A great lump +had risen in her throat; her lips were trembling. +The tears had started; she would not let them +fall. But that strange faintness was coming +<a id="page-331" class="pagenum" title="331"></a> +back. Suddenly she felt a strong arm around +her. Court was holding her, steadying her. +</p> + +<p> +“Carol! You poor little girl! It’s nearly +killed you!” he cried. “What is it? Tell +me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Are Jean and Cecily safe?” she asked, her +voice quivering. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they’re all safe. I didn’t get home +till nearly midnight. I started right off as +soon as I heard,—but it’s taken all this time! +Carol, tell me, where’s Douglas? Is he badly +hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come down to him,—quick! I think he’s +dying.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he?” Court’s voice was low and +awed. +</p> + +<p> +“Down there. He’s fearfully hurt and he’s +growing weaker. He’s almost unconscious +again. Oh, he’s suffered so! Come—quick! +I can’t leave him.” +</p> + +<p> +“This way!” Court called to the guide, and +taking up his lantern, he followed Carol. +</p> + +<p> +She led him to the spot where Douglas lay. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been trying all night to keep him +alive!” she whispered. “I thought he’d die +before anybody came!” +</p> + +<p> +Court knelt down beside the boy and took his +hand. The closed eyes opened. “Do you +know me, old man?” he asked, his fingers on +the flagging pulse. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-332" class="pagenum" title="332"></a> +“Yes,” came faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right!” Court gave Carol a reassuring +smile. “How do you feel, old fellow?” +</p> + +<p> +“I—had a—fall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know you did. And you feel pretty +mean now, don’t you? Well, we’re going to +take you right home and patch you up. Only +we’ll give you some breakfast first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think he’ll live?” whispered Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m <em>sure</em> he will.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll pull through all right,” said the +guide, who had joined them, and was studying +the boy with an experienced eye. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you going to get him home?” +Carol asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, easy enough,” said Court. “Tom +Clinton and some other fellows are on their +way up the brook to meet us.” He turned to +Douglas. “Now, old man, we’re going to make +you as comfortable as we can while we’re +waiting for the others. Say, Harry, spread +those blankets down here and we’ll put him +on them.” While the guide was unfolding the +blankets, Court fell to plundering the basket +which the man had slipped from his shoulders. +Mrs. Brook’s cloak came out first and he put +it around Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t!” she protested. “I don’t need +it. Put it over Douglas, <em>please</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-333" class="pagenum" title="333"></a> +“Now, see here! I’m captain of this ship! +I’ve brought my poncho for Douglas. But +I’m going to attend to <em>you</em> first. He’s a good +deal warmer than you are!” Court fastened +the cloak under her chin. “Have you gone all +night with nothing over that thin thing?” he +asked. “Didn’t you have a sweater?” +</p> + +<p> +“I put it around his feet.” +</p> + +<p> +“And never stopped to think of yourself! +Carol, you’re <em>sure</em> you’re not hurt? Just +worn out, isn’t that all?” he questioned anxiously, +for the whiteness of her face had +startled him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s all. It’s been such a dreadful +night!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tony didn’t come back to trouble you, +did he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no!” she answered; but her face told +its story of suffering. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s been enough to kill you!” Court declared +fiercely. “But it’s over now. I’ve got +you safe. I’m going to take care of you. +Now I’m going to start you on your breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled up at him gratefully, but she +asked, “Can’t you give Douglas something +right away?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re both of you going to have some +coffee as soon as we can heat it up,” he answered. +He brought the famished girl a package +<a id="page-334" class="pagenum" title="334"></a> +of sandwiches, but she could not eat until +she saw Douglas laid on his new bed. +</p> + +<p> +Court stooped over the lad. “Now, then,” +he said to the guide; “You take his feet while +I lift him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, be careful!” cried Carol. “His leg’s +broken.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll look out for it,” said Court. +“Hello! Why, if you haven’t got it into +splints! How did you learn to be such a surgeon? +They’re first-rate splints! Now it +won’t hurt him a bit to move him.” +</p> + +<p> +But it did hurt badly, and the boy’s groan +and look of suffering as he was lifted gently, +made Court’s face betray the anxiety he was +trying his best to hide. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor boy! You won’t have to wait much +longer now,” said Carol. They wrapped +Douglas in the warm poncho. A new fire was +soon built and the coffee heating; and seeing +her patient well cared for, Carol could enjoy +her own breakfast. “Oh, but it does taste +good!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor girl! You must be starved!” said +Court. “You haven’t had a mouthful since +your lunch yesterday, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not since yesterday noon.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it’s after four now!” he exclaimed. +“Sixteen hours!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was growing pretty faint,” she admitted. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-335" class="pagenum" title="335"></a> +“It was fearful for you! Carol, you’re the +bravest girl that ever lived! To think of +<a id="corr-17"></a>your going down those awful slides alone! +Risking your life, and staying at your post all +night! You beat all the <em>men</em> I ever heard of!” +He was far gone in heroine worship, and he +listened eagerly while Carol told her story. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll catch Tony yet,” said Court. “I’ll +see they get a warrant out for his arrest. +Hurry up that coffee, Harry!” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s het up pretty good now, I guess,” +said the guide. He lifted the can from the fire. +</p> + +<p> +Court filled a cup and gave it to Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Give it to Douglas first,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you take this. I’ve got to get out my +tin spoon to feed him. Keep her cup filled up, +Harry!” +</p> + +<p> +Court knelt down beside Douglas, with his +tin cup and spoon. Slowly and carefully he +fed him, and a few spoonfuls brought the boy +back to fuller consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +The waiting time was over soon. Carol’s +quick ears suddenly caught the sound of distant +voices, and she sprang up. “Oh, listen!” she +cried. “They’re coming!” +</p> + +<p> +Court hallooed and was answered. He +started down the brook and returned with Tom +Clinton and his relief corps. There was no +time to lose. The rescue party had brought +bandages, and with these Court bound up the +<a id="page-336" class="pagenum" title="336"></a> +boy’s shoulder, which, he noticed, had hung +down when he was lifted. A blanket served +for a stretcher, and the guides carried Douglas +between them. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better let us carry you, too,” said +Court to Carol. “It’s an awfully long tramp +and awfully rough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you, but I wouldn’t be carried +for the world! I feel ready for anything +now,” said Carol bravely. But long before +the journey down the wild, rocky brook was +over, she was glad of the strong arms that +came to her help, and at every difficult place +carried her safely across. +</p> + +<p> +It was a weary road, but Rainbow Falls was +reached at last, and soon they were at the end +of the trail. Awaiting them was a stage, +which had been turned into a temporary ambulance, +and the doctor who had come with it +to meet them received the suffering boy into +his care. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-28"> +<a id="page-337" class="pagenum" title="337"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XXVI.</span><br> +A “STOOT HERT” AND A “STEY BRAE” +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>I</span><span class="postfirstchar">’m</span> going up the road to look for them!” +called Jack, through the open window of +Chipmunk Lodge. He had been kept out of the +rescue party sorely against his will. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going too!” Jean called back. The +early breakfast was over. Out she rushed, and +they hurried together up the forest road. +</p> + +<p> +Before they had gone far the stage came into +view. Jean darted forward with a cry of joy, +for in front she saw Carol, waving her hand. +The boy and girl dashed up to the wagon. +There on a mattress lay Douglas, watched over +by Dr. Allen, Tom Clinton and Court. The +stage halted. In a flash Jean had climbed up +and was in Carol’s arms. Jack mounted the +step at the back and his face grew ashy as he +looked at Douglas lying so white and still. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he dead?” he asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“No more than you are!” answered Court. +“Don’t talk. We’ve got to keep him quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +The hush of awe that rested on the group of +waiting girls, made the welcome at the Lodge +a strangely quiet one. “Is he living?” was +<a id="page-338" class="pagenum" title="338"></a> +the question that the anxious faces asked. +Carol sprang down as the wagon stopped, and +was caught by Eunice in a quick embrace. +</p> + +<p> +The largest bedroom had been prepared for +the boy, for Mrs. Brook was determined to +nurse him, herself. Court and Tom carried +the mattress into the cottage. Jean was +standing so near that they touched her in +passing. She was silent, but Douglas turned +his head weakly toward her and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Jean,” he murmured faintly. +</p> + +<p> +The smile with which she answered him made +her sorrowful face radiant. His hand lay on +the edge of the mattress and she gave it one +soft loving squeeze. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Allen worked over his patient with Mrs. +Brook and Court for assistants. Jack stationed +himself outside the bedroom door, +awaiting the verdict. At last Court came out, +whispered to his brother and went back again. +And Jack left his post to report gloomily, +“He’s compound-fractured his leg and broken +his collar-bone, and his head’s hurt awfully!” +After that he did not leave the door till his +brother reappeared, saying, “Come in and have +a look at Douglas.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brook left the sick room as Jack +entered it, and joined the group of anxious +girls. “The doctor is all through, and Douglas +<a id="page-339" class="pagenum" title="339"></a> +is in much less pain now,” said she. “But +the house must be kept very quiet, and I must +not keep any larger family here than is necessary. +So most of you must go home to-day, +just as we planned, with Fräulein.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, dearie, <em>I</em> can’t leave you!” began +Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to send <em>me</em> home!” cried +Carol. “Because I’m not going. I shall stay +right here and help you nurse Douglas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t make <em>me</em> go!” begged Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, girls,—wait till you hear me out,” +said Mrs. Brook. “I can’t spare <em>you</em>, Cecily. +I shall engage a woman from the village to do +the cooking, but you will have to stay and keep +house. And I don’t mean to send <em>you</em> home, +either, Carol. You’re not fit to travel to-day. +I shall put you right to bed, you poor tired-out +child, and when you’re rested you shall +help me in the nursing. But all the rest +must go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I <em>can’t</em> leave Carol!” Eunice protested. +</p> + +<p> +“Stella needs you more,” said Mrs. Brook. +“I shall put her in your special care for the +journey home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t send <em>me</em> away,—don’t!” Jean implored. +“I won’t be one bit of trouble! I +know I can help you! <em>Please</em> let me stay!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, do let her stay!” urged Carol. “She +<a id="page-340" class="pagenum" title="340"></a> +can help us beautifully. I’ll be fearfully +lonely if I have to lose my chum and my Little +Sister, too! Let me keep her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jean will have to stay, Auntie,” put in +Court, who had come into the room in time to +hear part of the discussion. “If they catch +Tony, she and Carol and Cecily will all be +summoned as witnesses. Can’t we send Jack +home in her place? I’m going to stay here +myself, and help you till Douglas is out of the +woods. But Jack had better go back with the +girls. They’ll need him.” +</p> + +<p> +With the law itself demanding Jean’s presence, +Mrs. Brook was forced to yield. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take care of Nanno for you, Jean,” +said Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll do it together,” said Frances. +“I’ve never done anything worth a cent yet, +but I’m going to <em>now</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +By noon the carriages were at the door, and +the travellers drove away, the girls throwing +back kisses, and all smiling so bravely that no +one would have guessed what a weight lay on +those young hearts. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas was in a high fever by the next +morning and delirium had come on. During +the anxious days that followed, Carol, as assistant +nurse, was constantly at his bedside, while +Court was always at hand ready for any +service. The two battle maids kept their silver +<a id="page-341" class="pagenum" title="341"></a> +swords unsheathed, and with many a brave +thrust made rifts in the cloud of trouble,—Jean +always eager to fly on errands, and Cecily +proving herself a born housewife, as she helped +and directed Tillie Blungie, the maid-of-all-work. +</p> + +<p> +On that first morning a ray of sunlight broke +the gloom. Court, who had been mysteriously +absent for two hours or more, returned, in his +hand a tiny gold watch fastened to a white enameled +pin. Jean seized the watch and kissed +it, and her cry of joy brought Cecily from the +kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Tony’s caught, and on his way to +jail,” said the young man triumphantly, and +to his excited audience of two he told of the +arrest. +</p> + +<p> +“A guide brought word to the constable this +morning that he’d just passed a fellow answering +Tony’s description on the Chapel Pond +road. So the constable sent for me to come +along and identify him and we went and caught +up with him near the pond. It was our man +sure enough! He was limping along, quite +lame,—he must have stayed hiding in the +woods all yesterday. He turned around just +before we reached him, and you ought to have +seen him when he recognized me! I saw him +drop something into the bushes, and I looked +and found it was the two watches. He declared +<a id="page-342" class="pagenum" title="342"></a> +<em>he</em> hadn’t dropped them,—said he’d never +seen them! He’s trying to bluff it out still.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Douglas’s watch?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“The constable has it. He’s going to take +Tony before the justice of the peace. If he’s +held to the Grand Jury they’ll keep the watch +for an exhibit till everything’s over.” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll put him in prison, won’t they?” +asked Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +“If he’s brought to trial, and there’s hardly +a doubt he will be, there’s enough evidence to +send him to State’s Prison for assault. By +the way, there was a party of men on the +Gothics just when he was starting for the +slides. They talked with him, and their guide +identified him just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Those must have been the men we saw on +the mountain,” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; they’ll have plenty of witnesses. +We’ll all have to pay a visit to the Justice before +long.” And, a day or two later, the visit +was paid. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas made a brave fight for life, and one +morning Court came from his night vigil by the +bedside, to say, “He’s better! The fever’s +going down and he’s sleeping like a baby.” +The boy awoke with the fever gone, but Dr. +Allen said that it would be a long time before +he was well and months before he regained his +full strength. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-343" class="pagenum" title="343"></a> +One afternoon Jean electrified Carol with +the announcement, “I’ve got a situation!” +</p> + +<p> +“What under the sun—!” began Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you know,” Jean continued eagerly, +“It’ll be ever so long before Douglas can earn +his living again. Well, I was trying to think +how I could earn some money for him, and as +I was up at the Inn, mailing the letters, I saw +Mrs. Elton’s children squabbling. So I told +them a story and got them good again, and then +we played <em>Witch</em>. We had a beautiful time! +And Mrs. Elton came out and said she wished +I was their sister! She said their nurse didn’t +know how to amuse them, and she couldn’t feel +happy going off on excursions and leaving +them behind. And then I told her I wanted +to earn some money for Douglas, and I asked +her if she’d be willing to hire <em>me</em> to amuse +Dicky and Marguerite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the lavender salts before I faint +away!” gasped Carol. +</p> + +<p> +“And she was perfectly delighted,” Jean +went on, “and she told some other ladies, and +they said they wished I’d amuse their children +too. So I’m going there every morning to +play with them from nine to half-past twelve. +I’ve got four girls and two boys, and I’m +going to have fifty cents a day for each one, +and we’re going to play games and act Mother +Goose rhymes, and—” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-344" class="pagenum" title="344"></a> +Jean got no further for Carol pulled the +breadwinner into her lap and hugged her tight. +“You precious little Jeanie Queen! You’re +just a bundle of <em>Caritas</em>! You little mother +with four girls and two boys! I never knew +anything so dear as you in all my life!” +</p> + +<p> +The happy work proved a godsend both to +Jean and to the little people, who adored their +new playmate. The flock increased from six to +eight and Jean came to be known as the little +“old woman who lived in the shoe”; and great +was her pride when she brought home her first +week’s salary,—twenty dollars! +</p> + +<p> +A day or two after Jean was launched in her +profession, Dr. Allen said to her, “You and +Douglas must be great chums. He’s been +talking about you, and now he’s asking to see +you. I think I’ll have to let you pay him a +call every day.” He led her into the room +where Douglas lay, too weak to raise his head +from the pillow. The boy’s thin face still bore +traces of the injuries it had received, but the +bright smile that she knew so well broke over +it as she came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t I look pretty, Jean?” he asked. “I +got nicely bunged up, didn’t I?” His voice +was faint but it had the old merry ring. +</p> + +<p> +She knelt down by the bed. “I wanted to +come in dreadfully before,” said she. “Only +they wouldn’t let me. But the doctor says I +<a id="page-345" class="pagenum" title="345"></a> +may come in and see you every day now.” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas’s eyes sparkled. “Bully for doc!” +he murmured feebly, and he lay smiling contentedly, +not strong enough for many words, +until the doctor announced, “Time’s up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am again,” said Jean, coming into +the room a few days later. “You look ever +so much better now, Douglas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m in great shape to-day,” he answered +brightly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll leave you in charge, Jean,” said Carol. +“I must get the beef-tea.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you she’s a dandy nurse!” said +Douglas, as Carol left the room. “It doesn’t +seem as if she belonged down here, does it? +She’s so stunning and beautiful and sky-high +above us all! A—a—a sort of an angel!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, lovely!” laughed Jean. “I’m going +to tell her she’s a sky-high-above-us sort of +an angel!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you do it!” said Douglas, reddening. +“She told me what a regular brick you were +too. She said you wanted to go down the slides +after me, yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was all my fault!” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t either! You tried to keep me +back! But it’s funny the way you forget +when you’re ill. All I can remember is that +when I got near Tony he was looking at something +in his hand, and when he saw me he +<a id="page-346" class="pagenum" title="346"></a> +popped it into his pocket, and I was sure it +was the watch. And then we climbed down together, +and when he found he could get along +he began to get ugly. He said you and I had +told people he had set the woods afire, and he +was going to pay me back right then. I was +mad, too, by that time, and told him he’d +stolen your watch. He must have struck me +just then, for that’s the last I remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t see how he could have been so +cruel, when you went down to help him!” said +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to have a look at my watch again,” +said Douglas presently. “It was my grandfather’s. +Did I ever show you the Scotch +motto inside it,—’Pit a stoot hert tae a stey +brae’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how queer!” exclaimed Jean. “We +have <em>my</em> grandfather’s watch and it has the +same motto!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s funny! You know what it means, +don’t you?” said Douglas. “Put a stout heart +to a stiff hill. Good motto for a fellow that’s +got to fight his own way, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and it just suits you now—you’re so +brave and patient all the time.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +That afternoon Mrs. Brook had a dismal +letter from Fräulein Bunsen, now housekeeper +at Huairarwee. Marie, the cook, had threatened +<a id="page-347" class="pagenum" title="347"></a> +to leave if “M’dame” did not speedily +resume the reins of government. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do?” said Mrs. Brook. “I’m +needed there and I’m needed here.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Carol settled the difficulty like the wise +lass that she was. “Of course you can go +home, Motherling!” said she. “If Jean and I +aren’t able to take care of Douglas, now he’s +so much better, we might as well go back to our +baby carriages. Haven’t we Tillie to help +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my child—” began Mrs. Brook. +</p> + +<p> +“Motherling, beloved, I am <em>not</em> a child. +I’m an experienced grown-up!” said Carol. +And when the question was submitted to Dr. +Allen he took her part. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you how we’ll fix it,” said he. +“I’ll send for Grandma Holly. She’s a dear +old lady, and the nurse for the whole district. +I’ll keep Miss Carol for head nurse, but +Grandma and Tillie can do the hardest work. +Mrs. Brook, you needn’t worry about your +girls a bit with Grandma to take care of them.” +</p> + +<p> +So Mrs. Brook waited only till the first of +September, on which day Court drove Carol, +Cecily and Jean to the county town to testify +at the hearing before the Grand Jury. The +girls stood the ordeal bravely, giving their testimony +with a clearness that won them praise. +The next day Mrs. Brook and Cecily, with +<a id="page-348" class="pagenum" title="348"></a> +Court, whose services were no longer needed, +set out for Halcyon, and Mrs. Holly was installed +at Chipmunk Lodge. She was a brisk +little old lady, so rosy cheeked and cheery that +Carol said her name just suited her: she was +like Christmas holly; and the new arrangement +worked like magic. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, as Jean was spinning Douglas +a thrilling yarn, a vigorous rapping at the +front knocker sent her flying to the door. A +tall, fine-looking gentleman, suit-case in hand, +stood on the threshold. Amazement and ecstasy +were in the cry that rang through the +little cottage, as Jean threw herself into the +traveller’s arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy! Daddy!” +</p> + +<p> +“My own lassie!” His strong, loving arms +held her fast. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy, is it really you? You darling! you +precious darling!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Dawtie, here I am a whole month +ahead of time! I thought I’d give you a surprise. +Oh, my wee lassie, it’s good to have +you again! Daddy couldn’t live without you +any longer!” +</p> + +<p> +In the love scene that followed out on the +porch, a wonderful piece of news was told. +Jean’s father and mother had come home to +live. All summer Mr. Lennox had contemplated +changing places with his partner in New +<a id="page-349" class="pagenum" title="349"></a> +York, but nothing had been said to Jean, for +fear of a possible disappointment. Her parents +had arrived in New York two days ago, +and while her invalid mother was resting after +the voyage her father had run up to Halcyon, +found his bird flown, and followed her to Chipmunk +Lodge. When the first raptures were +over Mr. Lennox listened to the story of those +past weeks. +</p> + +<p> +“And Daddy, isn’t it the queerest thing,” +said Jean, “Douglas has his grandfather’s +watch, and it’s just like grandpapa’s, and it +has the same motto inside!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hm! that’s odd,” said Mr. Lennox. “The +lad’s Scotch, you wrote me, didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, come and see him now.” Jean +ushered her father indoors. +</p> + +<p> +Then she ran to surprise Carol and Douglas +with her news, but her cry of “Daddy!” had +betrayed the secret. “Come in, Daddy!” she +called. +</p> + +<p> +Carol welcomed Mr. Lennox at the bedroom +door, and after a hearty greeting he stepped to +the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Douglas, my boy,” said he, “you and +I ought not to be strangers. I feel as if I had +known you a long time from all Jean’s written +about you.” The kind words made Douglas +feel at home with him at once. +</p> + +<p> +When the boy’s fall and illness had been +<a id="page-350" class="pagenum" title="350"></a> +talked over, Mr. Lennox asked him to describe +his watch. “It must be the counterpart of my +father’s,” he said when the description had +been given. “What was your grandfather’s +name?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was Major Alexander Gordon.” +</p> + +<p> +“That name is about as familiar to me as +the proverb in the watch,” said Mr. Lennox. +“Tell me what you know of your grandfather.” +</p> + +<p> +“He came from Glen Yarrow in Scotland,” +replied Douglas. “He belonged to the Grahame +Highlanders, and he was ordered to +Canada just after he was married. He was +stationed in Halifax for years. My father +was born there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your father was a physician, I understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He came down to New York after +Grandfather died, but he broke down and had +to come and live in the mountains.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he died last Christmas—it was Douglas’s +birthday,” whispered Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“And your mother is dead, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she died when I was three years old.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my boy, it’s been a pretty sad life for +you,” said Jean’s father, with feeling. The +look in the gray eyes gave the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any relatives living?” asked Mr. +Lennox. +</p> + +<p> +“I have some cousins of my mother’s up in +<a id="page-351" class="pagenum" title="351"></a> +Nova Scotia, and I think I have a great-uncle +or something in Scotland.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sure but I know more about your +family than you do!” said Mr. Lennox with a +smile. “I’m going to tell you a story now. +My father, David Lennox, lived in Glen Yarrow. +My grandfather was the minister of the kirk +there, and a great friend of the laird. The laird +was named <em>Douglas Gordon</em>.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean and Carol both started, and Douglas half +raised himself. +</p> + +<p> +“That was my great-grandfather!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks like it,” said Mr. Lennox. “Well, +the laird’s youngest son, Alec—” +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas’s grandfather!” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Whist! lassie. The laird’s son, Alec, and +Davie Lennox were just the same age, and as +fast friends as their fathers; and when the lads +went to the university the laird gave them gold +watches, exactly alike. They had their favorite +motto engraved in them: ‘<em>Pit a stoot hert tae +a stey brae</em>;’ and they determined to live up to +it. Alec became a soldier and went to Canada, +and David went into the ministry and always +lived in Scotland. I’m sorry their lives drifted +so far apart that their sons, your father and I, +couldn’t be friends too. That’s all. Now, +laddie and lassie, what do you think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re almost cousins!” cried Jean. “Our +<a id="page-352" class="pagenum" title="352"></a> +grandfathers were just as good as brothers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Think of our grandfathers being such +chums, and then our finding each other and getting +to be such friends, too!” said Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s perfectly beautiful!” said +Carol. “That must be why you took to each +other from the very start!” +</p> + +<p> +A merry chat followed. Then Mr. Lennox rose. +“Now, Douglas, I must say good-by. I’ll +see you again in the morning before I go back +to New York. Come, lassie, let your daddy +have a chance to get acquainted with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Out on the porch they had a long talk. +“You’ve grown in more ways that one, Jean,” +said her father. “Do you remember, I used to +call you my <em>daft lassie</em>, your head was so full +of dreams? The daft lassie is gone, and I find +instead a young battle maid so busy fighting for +other people that she has no time to think of +herself. But I canna ca’ ye my <em>wee dawtie</em> ony +mair!” +</p> + +<p> +“What will you call me, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll call you my Lass of the Silver Sword!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +When Jean’s father returned from New York +and paid a second visit to Chipmunk Lodge, he +found Douglas almost himself again, though the +boy was obliged to lean on his crutch as he rose +to greet him. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to have a talk with you, my +<a id="page-353" class="pagenum" title="353"></a> +lad,” said Mr. Lennox. “Dawtie, we’ll have to +send you out of the room for a bit. Don’t listen +at the keyhole! Well, Douglas,” he continued, +“this is first rate! You’ll be climbing Mount +Marcy in another week!” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas laughed. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be +able to go to work as soon as I can get along +without crutches,” said he. “I feel fine and I +can’t lie around doing nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“How would you like to make me a visit?” +asked Mr. Lennox. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you, sir! I’d like to ever so +much! But wouldn’t I be in the way? I +shouldn’t like to be a bother.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you wouldn’t be in the way in the +least. In fact, we’d all like to have you extend +your visit indefinitely.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite understand. You don’t mean +till I’m able to go to school, do you?” said +Douglas. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, come and make your home with us. +Your education is of the utmost importance. +Your father would have wished you to be where +you could best prepare yourself for your life’s +work. And as far as we ourselves are concerned—why, +I’ve seen and heard enough of +you to know that it will be a pleasure to all of +us. We need you. Don’t you think Mrs. Lennox +and I would be richer for having a son as +well as a daughter?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-354" class="pagenum" title="354"></a> +The astounded boy could hardly believe that +his ears did not deceive him. He began to +stammer out his gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I don’t want to be thanked,” said +Mr. Lennox. “All I want is to have you take +me at my word and come! I’m going to send +my lassie to you now. You can talk it over with +her.” He left the room and in rushed Jean, +to find a flushed, excited boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean, your father wants me to come and live +in your family!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it!” she interrupted. “I knew it +all along. Daddy and I planned it all out together +when he was here before! You’re going +to have Daddy for your father, and Mother for +your mother, and I’ll have you for my brother—and +Father’s going to send you to school and +college! Oh, Douglas, I’m so happy about it, +I don’t know what to do! I just hated to think +about saying good-by and having you go way +off somewhere!” +</p> + +<p> +“So did I,” said Douglas. His voice +sounded oddly gruff, and Jean saw his eyes begin +to shine. He turned his head quickly toward +the window. This prospect of a happy +home to the lonely boy, and the delight that +Jean showed, were almost too much for him. +The tears rushed to his eyes, and for a minute +he studied the sunlit valley as well as he could +<a id="page-355" class="pagenum" title="355"></a> +through the mist, while he held Jean’s hand in +a tight, grateful clasp. +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw anything like you!” he said, +when he could trust his voice. “The way +you’re always doing things for somebody else! +Look at all you’ve done for me already! And +your father taking me like this—it’s too much! +I can never pay it back as long as I live!” +</p> + +<p> +“But he doesn’t want you to! He wants to +have a <em>son</em>. Don’t you see?” said Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll be the best kind of a son I can, +anyway,” said Douglas. “I’ll do my level best +to please him, so he’ll never be sorry for what +he’s done. I’ll study like a good fellow, once +I get to school! Look here, Jean—do you +think I’ll make a decent sort of a brother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine! Do you think I’ll make a nice sister?” +</p> + +<p> +“The best little sister a fellow ever had! +There isn’t another anywhere could hold a +candle to <em>you</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +As father and daughter strolled in the woods +before tea, Mr. Lennox said: “Dawtie, Douglas +won’t need that ninety-two dollars you’ve +been earning for him, now. What would you +like to do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to give it to Stella, and the canoe +money, too,” answered Jean. “And, Daddy, +don’t ever tell him about my earning it. He +<a id="page-356" class="pagenum" title="356"></a> +might feel badly to think I’d worked for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“We won’t tell him just yet, anyway, +lassie,” said her father. +</p> + +<p> +October was only a few days away, and this +was the last afternoon at Chipmunk Lodge. +But Carol, Jean and Douglas knew that before +many weeks they would have to visit that region +again; for Tony Harrel’s case was soon to come +on for trial, and all three would be obliged to +appear as witnesses. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d give anything if I could get out of it,” +said Douglas. “I’ve got to testify if the law +makes me, but I hate to. I don’t want to get +him into any more trouble.” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-29"> +<a id="page-357" class="pagenum" title="357"></a> +<span class="firstline">CHAPTER XXVII.</span><br> +A CORONATION +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">wo</span> days later Jean and her father, Carol +and Douglas, arrived at Halcyon Lake. +They stopped at Hurricane first to restore Douglas +to his chum; and then the other travellers +went on to Huairarwee and received an enthusiastic +welcome. A bevy of eager girls clustered +around the carriage as it stopped. Carol +sprang down, to be caught and fairly smothered +by her classmates. Jean made a joyful swoop +over the wheel and into the arms of Cecily and +Frances, who held her so tight that Betty and +Stella had to embrace the whole trio. The instant +that her battle maids released her, Nanno +was upon her, winding her chubby little arms +and legs around her long lost guardian, while +Jean hugged the rosy dumpling of a mavourneen. +Such a babel of merry voices, as Carol +and Jean were escorted in triumph to their +tents! Such a rattling of tongues, as the news +of Chipmunk Lodge was poured out! +</p> + +<p> +“You dear old Joan of Arc! I thought I’d +never get you back!” said Cecily, drawing Jean +down on a cot and squeezing her anew. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-358" class="pagenum" title="358"></a> +“I thought I’d never get back to <em>you</em>, you +dear old St. Cecilia!” returned Jean. “Oh +dear! I want to hug everybody all over +again!” +</p> + +<p> +“Cece, you’re the grabbiest thing that ever +lived!” cried Betty. “Go ’way! Give the rest +of us a chance!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s <em>my</em> turn,” said Stella. “I’ve something +to tell you, Jean. I have a mother, now!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I have a sister!” said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +Jean stared from one to the other. “Stella! +You don’t mean—!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do!” said Stella, with a joyous little +laugh. “I’m going to live with Mrs. Brook—with +<em>Mother</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Stella! How perfectly <em>glo-o-orious</em>!” +Jean sprang up and nearly throttled the happy +girl. “Are you going to live with her <em>always</em>? +Won’t you really have to go back to the farm +any more?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t ever have to go back. Pa don’t +want me,” answered Stella. +</p> + +<p> +“And we <em>do</em> want her,” said Cecily. “She’ll +be my sister, and keep Mammykins company +while I’m at school. Isn’t it the loveliest +thing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Stella! I’m so glad!” cried Jean. “I +couldn’t bear to think of your going back! +My, isn’t everything turning out like a regular +<a id="page-359" class="pagenum" title="359"></a> +fairy-story! You’re Cecily’s sister, and Douglas +is my brother! Isn’t it just too beautiful!” +She whirled Stella around the tent in a +mad tarantella as an outlet for her delight. “I +must tell Carol this minute!” she exclaimed, as +they stopped for breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Whoa! Don’t gallop away!” said Frances. +“Carol’s known about it for ever so long.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we kept it a secret, to surprise you +when you came back,” Stella explained. “Oh, +Jean, you don’t know what it means to me! +You girls all have mothers, and lovely homes—you +don’t know how it feels to have nothing at +all! And now I’m going to have a mother +again, and a sister, and the loveliest home that +ever was—and <em>everything</em>!” +</p> + +<p> +Here the dinner horn sounded. Stella hurried +to her tent to smooth her tumbled hair, and +Cecily to the bungalow, to give a finishing touch +to the goldenrod and autumn leaves decorating +the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we’ll tell you the rest of the secret,” +said Betty to Jean. “After Mrs. Brook decided +to take Stella, Carol and Eunice got up +a plan that all of us girls should club together +and pay for her dresses and things till she’s +able to earn her own living. So we’re all going +to join and raise a fund. But Stella doesn’t +know that yet.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-360" class="pagenum" title="360"></a> +“Those big girls are getting good at last!” +remarked Frances. “It’s because they’ve had +<em>me</em> for an example, all summer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s make them all honorary members of +the order!” cried Jean. “Jolly! jolly! Now +I know what’ll be our Silver Sword work next +winter! Let’s raise money for the fund! +Let’s earn enough to give Stella music lessons! +Carol says she has a splendid ear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hooray!” cried Frances. “We’ll give a +play a month! Won’t we have a winter of +larks!” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t <em>I</em> have a busy time as treasurer!” +laughed Betty. +</p> + +<p> +A second peremptory toot of the horn sent +the three girls scurrying to the bungalow. +“We’re to have dinner in the kitchen,” said +Betty. “Jean, you must promise solemnly, on +your golden shield, not even to <em>peep</em> into the +living-room.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean’s curiosity burned at a white heat as +she took her place at the table in the cozy +kitchen. The campers were to say good-by to +Halcyon next morning, and a farewell dinner +party was now given, with Mr. Lennox as the +guest of honor. +</p> + +<p> +“Joan of Arc,” said Cecily, as the ducks +came sizzling from the oven, “you’re not to +have Blanche for your room-mate next winter, +after all! Miss Carlton wants her to room with +<a id="page-361" class="pagenum" title="361"></a> +Adela. She thinks there’ll be less skylarking.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m to room with Betsy in the Orioles’ +Nest!” said Frances. “Miss Carlton thinks +I’ll be a good influence for her!” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Carlton wants me to keep <em>Frisk</em> in order!” +Betty corrected. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Cece, you’ve <em>got</em> to room with me!” +Jean broke in. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what I’m going to do,” said +Cecily. “We’re to have Castle Afterglow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, St. Cecilia! How perfect!” cried Jean. +“Won’t we have fun! You must come home +with me over Sundays. I’m to go home every +other Sunday. Dear old bouncing Blanche! +She’ll be a good, solid weight to tie Adela to! +She’ll steady the White Mouse if anything +will!” And all four girls went off into ripples +of happy laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Motherling, tell us,—have we been +good daughters all summer?” asked Eunice, at +dessert. +</p> + +<p> +“The best daughters in the world,” answered +Mrs. Brook. “I shall be lonely for you all next +winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then will you take us back again next summer, +if we can come?” +</p> + +<p> +“With all my heart I will! Next summer +and <em>every</em> summer this camp will be ready for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-362" class="pagenum" title="362"></a> +“Three cheers!” cried Nancy. “I’m coming, +with the camp baby under my arm!” +</p> + +<p> +Carol rapped on the table. “Camp Huairarwee, +stop eating apple pie, and take a vote,” +said she. “I move that we all try our best to +come back next summer. Somebody please second +the motion.” +</p> + +<p> +“I second it!” responded every one of her +eighteen fellow-boarders. +</p> + +<p> +“The motion is <em>eighteenth</em>-ed,” Carol announced. +“All in favor of a jolly summer next +year, signify it by saying ‘Ay’!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay!” burst forth unanimously, and Cecily +clapped her hands in delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy!” Jean called to her father, at the +other end of the table, “Can’t <em>we</em> come to Halcyon +next summer? There’s the dearest little +mite of a camp standing empty right next door +to Huairarwee. We could rent that!” +</p> + +<p> +“But it won’t hold all of you, Jean,” said +Cecily. “Your father and mother and Douglas +can stay there, but <em>you</em>’ll have to live with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“When our daughters settle things for us, +there’s nothing left to be said,” Mr. Lennox +observed to Mrs. Brook. +</p> + +<p> +“Fräulein and Miss Hamersley must come +and chaperone us again,” said Eunice. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a handful, but I’m ready,” replied +Miss Hamersley. +</p> + +<p> +“Not I! Not if you are to be lost in forests +<a id="page-363" class="pagenum" title="363"></a> +and on mountains again,” laughed Fräulein, +shaking her head at Jean and Carol. “I see +my hair grow gray already!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody else sees it,” said Carol. “That +one little <em>contrary-minded</em> shall be kidnapped +by me and <em>brought</em>! You’re just the right +size to be tucked into a suit-case, Bunny, liebchen!” +</p> + +<p> +“Carolchen, ven vill you learn to be respectful!” +said the little teacher. “Ach, wohl! I +suppose I haff to come, to take care of my two +storm-children.” +</p> + +<p> +Dinner over, Jean was invited to show her +father through the labyrinth, and to remain +in it till summoned. In half an hour Mrs. +Brook called the exiles back, sent Mr. Lennox +to the bungalow, and took Jean to the battle +maids’ tent. There, spread out on her cot, Jean +found a white satin robe, and on Cecily’s a cloak +of ruby-colored velvet. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—what’s that?” she cried. “That +looks like the dress Eunice wore when she acted +Juliet! And <em>that</em>—that’s the cloak Carol had +for Romeo!” The finery carried her back to +the evening at Hazelhurst when the older girls +had acted <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, but how had it +been spirited into camp! +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brook would tell no secrets, but she took +Jean in hand, and—presto, change! Instead of +a lassie in a corduroy mountain suit, there stood +<a id="page-364" class="pagenum" title="364"></a> +a royal personage, robed in shimmering white +satin, her velvet cloak falling from her shoulders, +her court train sweeping the floor. +Cheeks rosy with excitement, blue eyes laughing +and dancing, dusky hair flowing loose over +her mantle—the Queen of the Silver Sword +came forth from her tent to find awaiting her +a merry dark-eyed maid of honor, in an antique +gown as yellow as a daffodil. Frances took the +ends of the regal train, and Jean was conducted +to the bungalow. As they stepped upon the +veranda the door was opened for them by two +porters whose extraordinary attire made Jean +stop short in amazement. One was an Indian, +through whose war-paint she recognized Jack’s +features. He was wrapped in a gorgeous red +blanket, and his superb hen-feather war-bonnet +proclaimed him a chief of renown. The other +was a frontiersman of Colonial times. He +leaned, not on crutches, but on his rifle, and he +wore fringed leggings and jacket, and a coonskin +cap, which he doffed as the queen entered +her palace. +</p> + +<p> +A palace it was indeed! The walls were tapestried +with evergreens and autumnal foliage, +and adorned with golden shields crossed by +silver swords. Two rows of court ladies were +waiting to receive her majesty, and they made +a dazzling array, for more than one trunkful +of costumes—the relics of Hazelhurst tableaux +<a id="page-365" class="pagenum" title="365"></a> +and theatricals—had lately arrived in camp. +Jean saw medieval dames, oriental princesses, +and European peasants. Nancy and Marion, +in their pale green and peach-colored satins, +with tall pointed head-dresses, might have presided +at tournaments as “queens of love and +beauty.” Helen and Dorothy were charming +as Pocahontas and Minnehaha; Eunice seemed +to have stepped out of the pages of Shakespeare, +for she was a fair and stately Portia, in red silk +cap and gown; and pretty Rose Hamilton was +the fairy queen Titania, surrounded by attendant +elves, all with spangled robes and gauzy +wings. +</p> + +<p> +Jean’s bewildered eyes roamed over the sea +of color, and down the hall of state, to the dais +that had been raised at the farther end. There +she saw a floral throne covered with goldenrod +and purple asters. To the left of the throne +stood the princesses of the Scroll and the Treasure—Cecily +in rose pink, Betty in forget-me-not +blue. Carol waited on the right, and she had +become a dryad of the forest. Her robe of +creamy yellow was trimmed with ruddy Virginia +creeper and clusters of rowan berries; +she held a sickle and a sheaf of corn, and on her +head was a garland of bright maple leaves. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, from the bower of evergreens +around the piano, sounded the march from +Lohengrin. Cecily and Betty came down between +<a id="page-366" class="pagenum" title="366"></a> +the ranks of courtiers and bowed before +their sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, girls, it’s just like fairy-land!” Jean +whispered. “But what does it all mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just a welcome home for you and +Carol,” replied Betty. “We planned it all as +soon as we got back from Chipmunk Lodge.” +And Cecily said, “May it please your Majesty +to advance and take your throne!” +</p> + +<p> +With her maid of honor bearing her train, +and the princesses following, the queen walked +slowly up to the dais. Carol stepped forward +to meet the procession. Bowing low, she +took Jean by the hand and led her to the throne. +</p> + +<p> +“Carolie, you look perfectly <em>beautiful</em>!” +whispered Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“It is your Majesty who is beautiful!” Carol +responded. “You are every inch a queen!” +Then she addressed the courtiers: +</p> + +<p> +“When my young sister, Springtime, held +sway over the land,” said she, “the Queen of the +Silver Sword was raised to the throne. Since +then she has valiantly fought to better the world, +and her good sword Caritas has been drawn +whenever she has found a wrong to right. But, +though Spring and Summer have said farewell, +her Majesty is still a queen uncrowned. Now +I, Autumn, have come. I have turned the forests +to gold, and made them ready for the coronation +day. And you, fair ladies of the court, +<a id="page-367" class="pagenum" title="367"></a> +are here to pledge your fealty to the Silver +Sword, to pay homage to the queen, and to +present her with her crown and scepter.” +</p> + +<p> +Autumn drew back, and up came Stella, all +in white, her cloud-like veil dotted with tiny +stars. She bore on a cushion a circlet of +frosted silver; and as she knelt before the +throne Cecily and Betty took the crown, held it +a moment aloft for all to see, then laid it on +the head of the young queen. There it gleamed, +on the soft dark hair, and where it rose to a +point above the broad forehead were a shining +“C” and “V.” Then Cecily placed in her +hand a gilded scepter. +</p> + +<p> +“Long live the Queen!” Clear and full the +chorus rang out. +</p> + +<p> +Jean’s glowing face was all the reward her +subjects asked, but she rose and spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“Ladies of the court, and you, my battle +maids—” Then impulsively she threw wide +her arms as if she would embrace them all. +“Oh, girls!” she cried, “I <em>can’t</em> make a speech! +But I thank you millions and billions and <em>trillions</em> +of times! I never dreamed we’d have a +real silver crown for our order! Oh, it’s all +too beautiful and lovely! I ought to be the best +queen that ever lived, with such a crown and +such subjects. But I don’t deserve it one bit—I +haven’t done anything at all! I know who +ought to be crowned—<em>Carol</em> ought! She saved +Douglas’s life, and she’s nursed him all these +<a id="page-368" class="pagenum" title="368"></a> +weeks, and just done everything for everybody!” +Autumn was shaking her head and +her sickle in vehement denial, but Jean went on: +“She ought to belong to the order, anyhow. +She’d make a splendid adviser—she always +knows how to set things straight. Mayn’t I +have her for my chief councillor, or grand vizier +or something?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may and you <em>should</em> have her,” said Mr. +Lennox, who stood near the dais. “‘In days of +old, when <em>battle maids</em> were bold,’ the Germanic +tribes had their <em>Alruna</em> women who foretold the +future, and, I’ve no doubt, gave the chiefs excellent +advice. Your Majesty’s humble and +obedient father suggests that you appoint Miss +Carol your Alruna Maid!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a splendid idea!” exclaimed Jean. +“Kneel down, Carolie!” Autumn knelt before +the throne. Jean lifted the leafy garland, and +replacing it on the flowing chestnut hair, proclaimed +Carol the Alruna of the Silver Sword. +</p> + +<p> +The Alruna kissed the royal hand; and then +such a clapping as burst forth, within the palace +and outside, too! +</p> + +<p> +“Long live the Alruna Maid!” shouted a +manly voice. There was Court looking in at an +open window. At another were Dr. and Mrs. +Hamilton. +</p> + +<p> +“Spies! spies!” cried the courtiers, but they +welcomed the spies indoors, in time to see the +<a id="page-369" class="pagenum" title="369"></a> +camp baby do homage to the queen. Nanno, in +a scarlet Mother Hubbard cloak, came running +up to the dais, which she mounted with a hop. +Then, measuring herself with one hand on top +of her black curls, she recited in her tuneful +brogue: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“A little mavourneen am I,</p> + <p class="verse">I’m only dest so high!</p> + <p class="verse">But when I’m as old as you,</p> + <p class="verse">I’ll be a battle maid too!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“You darling baby, indeed you <em>shall</em> be a +battle maid, too!” said Jean, gathering Mavourneen +up to a place beside her on the throne. +</p> + +<p> +The assembled ladies then approached and +kissed the royal hand; after which up came +Court, with the frontiersman and the redskin +warrior. Court was in his hunting suit, and +equipped with rifle and cartridge-belt. “Your +Majesty,” said he, “allow me to present the +famous scout, Natty Bumpo, whom they used +to call Deerslayer, and now call Hawkeye; and +also the young chief, Uncas, the last of the Mohicans. +I hope you’ll excuse Hawkeye and me +for coming just as we are. We’ve been out +all day after venison for your Majesty’s banquet. +Uncas is the only one who has had time +to put on his dress suit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heap much beautiful squaw here! Big +chief like queen’s scalp best!” observed Uncas, +<a id="page-370" class="pagenum" title="370"></a> +gazing with admiration at the silver circlet. +</p> + +<p> +“You shan’t have my crown, nor my scalp +either!” laughed Jean. “<em>You’ll</em> protect me, +won’t you, Hawkeye?” +</p> + +<p> +“Killdeer never misses,” answered the scout, +raising his rifle. “I’m ashamed of Uncas,—he +talks like a dog of a Mingo. But then he hasn’t +a white man’s gifts. It isn’t in <em>my</em> gifts to +know how to speak to a queen, but—Great +Cæsar! you look stunning!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty’s so dazzlingly radiant, it +hurts my eyes!” Court declared, and he took +his place beside the chief councillor. “Alruna +Maid,” he said, “I hope you won’t keep your +good advice all for the queen. When I come +to New York in my Christmas vacation won’t +you give <em>me</em> some good counsel, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take care, Court! You’ll have a sermon +from your clerical father if he finds you going +to an <em>Alruna</em> for counsel,” replied Carol. “And +once you told Jean it was <em>your</em> rule to do what +you wished, first, and ask advice afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that all depends on who gives the advice,” +said Court. “I never had an Alruna to +go to before. Do you ever tell people’s fortunes? +I shall want to come and have my +fortune told, some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oracles never mind people coming to <em>inquire</em>,” +the Alruna answered graciously. Then +her sunny eyes grew deep and full of mystery. +<a id="page-371" class="pagenum" title="371"></a> +“The veil of the future is lifting,” said she—“just +one little corner of it. I see—a legacy! +It comes from a great-aunt. And the grandnephew +is so fond of using the silver sword that +he won’t spend one cent of it upon himself. +There—that’s as far as the veil will lift to-day.” +</p> + +<div class="centerpic" id="img-i_370"> +<img src="images/i_370.jpg" alt=""> +<p class="cap"> +GAZING WITH ADMIRATION AT THE SILVER CIRCLET. +</p> + +</div> + +<p> +Gay dance music sounded just then from the +green bower where Fräulein served as orchestra. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope it’s my good fortune to have the +Alruna for my partner,” said Court. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear it is your <em>fate</em>!” she laughed. “Fräulein’s +playing my favorite waltz.” A moment +more and the hunter and the Alruna were gliding +about in the dance, and fantastic couples +were revolving merrily all through the palace. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t dance,” said Hawkeye, regretfully. +“I got wounded trying to <em>sarcumvent</em> the +Mingoes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Uncas dance with paleface queen,” said the +last of the Mohicans. He led her majesty out, +while the queen’s father renewed his youth by +taking for a partner the princess of the Scroll. +</p> + +<p> +The bungalow had seen many a merry dance +that summer, but this was the merriest of all. +After every waltz or two-step there was a +change of partners, the hunter and the young +brave doing their best to dance with every member +of the court. The revel ended with the +<a id="page-372" class="pagenum" title="372"></a> +Virginia reel, out under the trees. Douglas +watched it from a rustic bench, and when it +was over Jean dropped down beside him to +rest. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m rather afraid of my sister, now she’s +a queen with a crown on!” said the boy. “I +feel as if I ought to be down at your feet, instead +of sitting beside you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I look so very royal?” asked Jean. +“Oh, see there!” She pointed to the lake. +“There goes a kingfisher!” +</p> + +<p> +“Two of them!” said Douglas, for first one +blue-gray bird and then another had arisen +chattering from a tree overhanging the water. +He raised his rifle. “Shall I shoot?” he asked +mischievously. “It brought me good luck last +time!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, don’t shoot!” said Jean, laughing. +“All the good things came because we <em>saved</em> the +halcyon’s life!” +</p> + +<p> +“And <em>two</em> halcyons,” said Douglas, “ought +to bring us twice the good luck!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The afternoon was wonderfully mild for so +late in September. In the slanting rays of the +sun the water flashed beguilingly, and Jean was +not allowed to rest long on the rustic bench. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s time for our sunset carnival, now!” +said Cecily. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-373" class="pagenum" title="373"></a> +“You don’t mean there’s <em>more</em> coming!” exclaimed +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, there is!” Cecily answered. “This +is a three-act play. You and Carol haven’t +been out on the lake since the end of July, so +we thought—as we’d be all dressed for it—we’d +wind up with a water carnival. Come +down and see your royal barge.” +</p> + +<p> +Down to the lake tripped the queen and her +court. Moored to the dock the royal craft was +waiting. A canopy, and plenty of ornamental +cheesecloth, had transformed the old camp fishing-boat +into a barge which Cleopatra herself +need not have scorned. It was draped all in +white and crimson; a heap of bright cushions +made a throne; a fantastic flag, gay as a Venetian +gonfalon, hung over the stern, almost trailing +in the water; while to a pole, erected like a +mast, wound with crimson and white and flaunting +streamers of the same, was secured a large +golden shield, with the sword and motto of the +order. +</p> + +<p> +“What a beauty of a boat! How <em>did</em> you +dress it up?” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“I waved my wand, and it rose out of the +lake!” replied the fairy queen Titania. +</p> + +<p> +Jean was made to take her place on the +cushion-throne, with Stella at her feet, Frances +at the helm, and Cecily and Betty at the oars. +<a id="page-374" class="pagenum" title="374"></a> +A general embarkation followed. Court and +Jack launched the rowboats and canoes, and +helped the ladies to step aboard without detriment +to their finery; and at the last moment +Court, with the Alruna, now returning to her +role as Autumn, slipped off to the kitchen and +came back carrying between them a huge basket +of rosy, mellow apples, which they placed as +cargo in the <em>Hist-oh-Hist</em>. The fleet was soon +on its way up the lake to Fairy Cove. The +queen’s barge headed the line. Close in its +wake came Uncas and Hawkeye, the scout reclining +in the canoe while the Mohican plied +the paddle, Nanno sitting cuddled up contentedly +between them. Then came the <em>Hist</em>, paddled +by the hunter, Autumn in the bow playing +her mandolin, for which she had exchanged her +sickle, pausing now and then to toss her gifts +of apples to others of the masqueraders as they +came within range, for the rest of the gay procession +gradually closed up and surrounded the +royal galley: Titania and her fays, Pocahontas +and Minnehaha, Portia and the Queens of +Love and Beauty, peasant girls, chivalric +dames, and princesses of the Orient. +</p> + +<p> +The clouds were warm with rose and gold as +the gay party dropped into Fairy Cove. There +the queen and her battle maids let their barge +drift, while the others circled around them in +a grand review. Carol touched her mandolin +<a id="page-375" class="pagenum" title="375"></a> +and began to sing the boating song, <em>Santa +Lucia</em>. The rest took up the melody, and the +sunset carnival became a sunset concert, too. +While the sky blushed up to the zenith, the +sweet young voices rose in song. And when +the carnival fleet glided homeward again the +oars and paddles rose and fell to the melody of +<em>Auld Lang Syne</em>. +</p> + +<p> +Sky and lake seemed to have caught fire together +as the keels grated on the sand and +the queen and her maidens stepped ashore. But +over the dark hills the clouds gloomed violet, +and the sun was sinking fast, bringing to an +end that summer with its many halcyon days. +The whole rainbow company gathered on the +beach to see the last of the sunset glory. A +flood of light poured over the happy queen. It +shone on the princess of the Scroll, as she stood +at the queen’s right hand, and turned her fair +hair to St. Cecilia’s halo. It played with the +Alruna’s flowing curls and made them burn +with ruddy gold. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s been such a beautiful summer!” said +Jean. “Even the sad part had such a wonderful +ending! And to-day—to-day’s the loveliest +of all!” +</p> + +<p> +The Alruna stretched out her hand toward +the western sky, where a band of clearest blue +broke the rose and gold. “See that lake in the +sky!” she said. “That’s Halcyon Lake, next +<a id="page-376" class="pagenum" title="376"></a> +year! The future is unfolding before me in the +sunset! We are all coming back again—every +one, and <em>next</em> summer we shall have with us +<em>all</em> the battle maids of the Silver Sword!” +</p> + +<p> +Down dropped the great globe of flame behind +the purple clouds; its rays were quenched, +and the young sovereign and her court stood +in shadow. But again, through a rift, the +golden light flashed forth, and the last bright +horizontal beams touched Jean’s silver coronet +and made it glisten. The Alruna spoke again: +</p> + +<p> +“This is your <em>second</em> coronation, little queen! +The <em>sun</em> is crowning you now!” +</p> + +<p class="end"> +FINIS +</p> + +<div class="trnote chapter"> +<p class="transnote"> +Transcriber’s Notes +</p> + +<p> +The original spelling was mostly preserved. +A few obvious typographical and punctuation errors were silently amended. +All other changes are shown here (before/after): +</p> + + + +<ul> + +<li> +... turned her face to the cliff and let herself down<span class="underline">.</span> ...<br> +... turned her face to the cliff and let herself down<a href="#corr-16"><span class="underline">,</span></a> ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... <span class="underline">you’re</span> going down those awful slides alone! ...<br> +... <a href="#corr-17"><span class="underline">your</span></a> going down those awful slides alone! ...<br> +</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77584 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77584-h/images/cover.jpg b/77584-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc6f9bf --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/77584-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/77584-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..80ad898 --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-h/images/frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/77584-h/images/i_084.jpg b/77584-h/images/i_084.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d384ecc --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-h/images/i_084.jpg diff --git a/77584-h/images/i_262.jpg b/77584-h/images/i_262.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9cc3632 --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-h/images/i_262.jpg diff --git a/77584-h/images/i_370.jpg b/77584-h/images/i_370.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..db3061e --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-h/images/i_370.jpg diff --git a/77584-h/images/logo.jpg b/77584-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d36540d --- /dev/null +++ b/77584-h/images/logo.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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