The Outdoor Girls Around the Campfire, Laura Lee Hope [the dot read aloud TXT] 📗

As the latter consisted of a few blankets, with utensils and some other small and necessary articles wrapped snuggly inside, the burden would not be great.

They had laid in quite a stock of canned goods, bacon, and other foodstuffs which they had already stowed away in the Gem.

“I hope some tramp doesn’t take it into his head to investigate,” Betty had said the day before, when they were leaving the little boat. “If so, we might find ourselves minus provisions.”

“At the worst, we could always buy more,” Mollie had retorted, and the matter had dropped there.

Since Henry Blackford’s cabin would serve them for ample shelter the girls had no need for a tent or for tent furnishings. This had, of course, simplified their preparations considerably.

According to Amy’s brother, there was a good oil stove in the cabin, also several utensils. However, as the girls had no way of knowing what condition these utensils were in, they preferred to furnish their own.

It had been arranged the night before that, promptly at seven-thirty the next morning, Allen was to repair to Betty’s house, Frank Haley to Mollie’s, Roy to Amy’s. Will Ford was taking down his sister’s luggage.

Although Grace had argued that seven-thirty was an unheard of hour to start and absolutely unnecessary, considering the short distance they had to go, she had been ruled down by a majority of three to one.

“It’s always more fun to start early,” Betty had declared, adding: “And you never know what trouble we may run into. If anything should happen to the engine it might take some time to get it going again.”

“And we want to get to camp while it’s light enough to do plenty of exploring,” Mollie had finished, resolutely.

Just the same, Betty, excited and flushed with a sense of adventure, standing on her front porch waiting for Allen the next morning, was not at all sure that Grace would be true to her promise.

“If she keeps us waiting this morning——” she began, to break off as she saw Allen coming at a swift pace up the street.

“Hello,” he called, his eyes lighting up as he spied Betty. “Where did you get the new togs? My, but you look great!”

“Thanks,” said the Little Captain, demurely, glancing down at the trim tweed of the knicker suit she had bought in Kayford. “I rather like me, myself.”

And then they laughed together, merrily and for no particular reason except that it was the kind of day which seems just made for laughing.

On the way down to the dock where the Gem lay rocking in the gentle swell from the river, they were still gay. But when they reached the pier and found that they were the first to arrive, Allen became suddenly grave.

“Somehow I don’t like the idea of your going to this lonely cabin all alone,” he said, as, under Betty’s instructions, he disposed of the small blanket roll in the stern of the Gem. “There may be tramps up there.”

“Yes,” retorted Betty gayly. “And there may be wild elephants too, and cyclones or maybe an earthquake. Anything may happen, but I’ve a strong hunch it isn’t going to.”

“Just the same, I’ll feel better when we fellows get up there with you.”

“You’re coming then, Allen?” she asked, quickly. “Do you think you can leave your horrid old clients long enough?”

“Long enough for week-ends, anyway,” said Allen, with a smile, adding soberly: “It’s going to be mighty lonesome down here without you.”

“Oh, well, you’ll always have your work,” said Betty, wickedly. It was not a fair remark at all and she knew it was not. She had seen the boys and girls coming down the street which led to the dock and a moment later they were completely surrounded, leaving Allen not one chance to retort.

Every one was joyful, even Grace—which was unusual at this early hour—and they got under way amid a bombardment of persiflage from the boys.

As the motor of the Gem began its rhythmic putt-putt, Roy began to sing in a far from melodious voice “The Boys They Left Behind Them.” The others joined in, ending the song in a joyful shout.

Just before they passed out of earshot Allen made a megaphone of his hands and shouted something which only Betty understood.

“I’ll get even yet,” he yelled, and for answer Betty waved a mocking hand.

“Now what have you been doing to him?” asked Grace, adding virtuously: “I think it’s a shame the way you treat that poor boy, Betty Nelson. You never give him an easy moment. Dancing so much with Frank last night, for instance. I could see murder in Allen’s eye.”

“Just the same,” remarked Mollie as the Gem gathered speed and they left the shore further and further behind them, “I notice he always comes back for more. You must admit, Grace dear, that Betty has a way with her.”

“Altogether too much so,” said Grace, with a sigh. “When she’s around none of the rest of us has a chance.”

“Don’t mind me, ladies,” chuckled Betty. “I’m not listening.”

“You don’t have to,” said Mollie, the ever-generous. “You know it anyway, without our telling you. All the boys are crazy about you——”

“Even Percy Falconer,” murmured Grace, and Betty wrinkled up her pretty little nose.

“Why spoil a perfect morning by mentioning Percy?” she inquired. “I should think you’d know better, Gracie.”

Percy Falconer, a native of Deepdale, was a fast and fatuous young man with more money than brains. He was a dandy with a liking for the extreme in style, and on several occasions had attempted to ingratiate himself with Betty. However, Betty had always managed to discourage his budding attentions, and usually in a manner most discomforting to Percy. It goes without saying that the youth was a standing joke with the girls.

“I hear Percy isn’t going with that fast crowd any more,” spoke up gentle Amy. “Maybe he’s reformed.”

“Well,” remarked Mollie, her nose in the air, “I’ll say he can stand a good bit of it.”

For a while everything went well with the girls and they were beginning to see visions of getting to camp in time to cook luncheon when suddenly something went wrong with the Gem’s engine. It did not go dead, but there was a queer note in its putt-putting that worried Betty.

As they were passing Triangle Island—one of the many picturesque islands which dotted the Argono River—Grace suggested that they run into shore while Mollie and Betty “looked the engine over.”

“Be sure you say Mollie and Betty,” snorted Mollie. “What’s the matter with your ‘looking the engine over?’”

“I’d feel sorry for the engine,” chuckled Betty, and even Grace joined in the laugh at her expense.

Having visited the island before, Betty knew the very spot where conditions were best for landing. This was a little inlet from the river, deep enough to allow the Gem to come close to shore.

As soon as they came near enough Grace and Amy grasped the overhanging branches of trees and swung themselves to firm ground, leaving Betty and Mollie in the boat to do the “dirty work.”

After considerable tinkering Betty announced that they were ready to start again but so much time had passed in the operation that Amy and Grace declared they were starving, despite the fact that it was not yet twelve o’clock.

“This is the best place ever for lunch,” Grace argued. “And we had our breakfast so early I really think we need something to eat.”

As the girls had thoughtfully brought along a picnic lunch in case they were not able to reach camp till later in the afternoon, Betty and Mollie brought it to light and then scrambled nimbly on to shore, the Little Captain with a rope in her hand with which she intended to fasten the boat to some sort of mooring.

“It would be a great thing, wouldn’t it,” she said, as she wound the rope about a stout tree and tied a seamanlike knot in it, “to wake up and find the Gem sailing out to sea with us marooned on a desert isle?”

“More thrilling in the movies than in real life,” drawled Grace. “Now let’s get busy, girls. I’m starved.”

“Oh, not down here,” Betty protested. “I know of a perfect duck of a place on the other side of the hill up there—flat rock for a table and everything.”

“But the boat!” protested Amy. “Suppose it should——”

“Now don’t go imagining things,” interrupted Betty, gayly slipping an arm through Amy’s and drawing her upward. “The Gem couldn’t get away from her moorings if she tried. Trust your aunt Elizabeth.”

They found the “perfect duck of a place” Betty had mentioned and all agreed that she had not said half enough for it. There was the great flat rock surrounded by mossy grass and on the rock they spread their lunch while they plumped to the soft and yielding ground with signs of content.

“We’re as alone as though we were at the end of the world,” said Grace, contentedly munching a sandwich. “I wouldn’t change places with the King of England just now.”

“I don’t suppose many people come here, except to picnic like us,” said Amy, and then sat up suddenly as though she had heard something.

Betty made a grab for a glass of crabapple jelly which had almost been upset by Amy’s sudden motion.

“What’s the matter, Amy?” asked Grace, lazily. “You look like a scared jack rabbit.”

Amy made a motion for silence.

“I hard a noise,” she said, with an uneasy glance over her shoulder. “It was like some one stealing through the woods. Oh, girls!”