Surely she had rosin on her feet! No, she didn't, for the next moment she too was clawing the air. She swayed for a minute like a reed in the wind, and then went down, not into the water, but on the pole where she gazed with a bewildered stare in her near-sighted eyes at the jeering little prize that had proved so elusive.

The first number of the land sports was a contest in the air, the performers walking on stilts while balancing potatoes on their heads. A tilting joust also took place, and helped to prove that the time the girls had spent in making and walking on the stilts had not been wasted.

The Up Against It Race, turned out to be an obstacle race, one of the obstacles being twelve eggs to be picked up from the ground and placed in a basket. The second obstacle was hailed with deafening shouts, for it was no other than Miss Camphelia sitting on the race-track contentedly sucking a lollipop. She was speedily seized by the contestant and arrayed in a coat and hat, while gazing with wondering eyes at this new red-faced mother. The girl who made the best time as an egg-picker and baby-dresser proved to be an Oriole, and was duly applauded for her speed and deftness.

In the Light that Failed contest the fair racers made a twenty-yard dash carrying lighted candles and pails of water, one in each hand, at the same time. All lights flickered out to be sure, but the one that lasted the longest won the contest for its holder.

A fifty-yard dash won by Edith now followed, while one of the Bob Whites broke the tape at a twenty-five yard dash. In a Ring the Bell compet.i.tion the girls were divided into teams, the team having the greatest number of girls who threw a bean bag through a barrel-hoop with a bell hung in its center without touching the bell were the jubilant ones.

Lillie and Edith now gave an exhibition of wigwagging, using the Myers code, in which nearly all the girls were proficient. Lillie, to her delight, showed the most proficiency, although Edith had generally been considered the greatest expert in this science. An Indian-club drill, and a nail-driving contest not only showed the scouts what their sisters could accomplish in the way of strength, and manual labor, but brought the sports for the day to a close.

By this time pangs of hunger began to a.s.sail the jolly campers, and Nita, with a strenuous toot of her horn, made known that a Grub Contest-a hike for supper packages hidden in the woods, among the rocks on the sh.o.r.e, or around the tents-would now take place. With much laughter and jesting the girls lined up opposite the boys, and at three blasts of the bugle they were off, flying in all directions, each one bent on searching some one particular locality that he or she had in mind. The fortunate ones were soon shouting hilariously; in fact even the slow ones were keener than usual in this supper hike, and soon bagged their game and cheered l.u.s.tily as they returned to camp.

Every one now gathered around the dining-room table-appropriately decorated for the occasion-and was soon dulling appet.i.te with the choice bits found in the packages that had been done up by the Pioneers but hidden by Mrs. Morrow and Mrs. Van Vorst.

As they frolicked over the supper it was voted that every one present contribute to the moment's pleasure by telling a story, singing a song, asking a conundrum, and so on. A ball was pa.s.sed to Helen who immediately told a funny story, and ended by tossing the ball to Nathalie, the rule being that the reciter was to throw the ball to any one he or she chose, which resulted in its being thrown to the more timid or lazy ones, thus causing surprise and laughter.

Nathalie made a rhyme impromptu, then tossed the ball to one of the boys, and so it kept going the rounds, not only bracing the timid or nervous ones, but revealing latent talent that had never been suspected.

Teddy Hart, who had played the knight to the announcer of the day, Miss Anita, spied her laughing at his antics when he was called to the front and mischievously tossed the ball to her. The smile died on the girl's face and she gasped with a start of terror, but in a moment, with a defiant toss of her head, she started in and recited some funny verses so comically that she received an ovation of cheers and claps.

When Nathalie perceived this unexpected turn in the festivity, her heart went pit-a-pat in sympathy with Nita's unexpected ordeal, but when she saw the upward toss of her head and the flash in her eyes, she knew the girl would prove game. Indeed, she had been proving game for the last ten days or more, for Helen's plan of helping her to know the girls had succeeded so well that Nita had lost much of her supersensitiveness in regard to her deformity, by being made to forget it and by the kindliness and deference shown her by both girls and boys.

The intimacy that had come from tenting with the different Pioneers had not only shown her the need of correcting many of her own faults, but had revealed the good points of her a.s.sociates. Many of the girls she had secretly vowed to Nathalie she would never care for, she had accepted as the best of friends.

From being deemed an aristocrat of whom the girls stood slightly in awe, thinking her proud and exclusive, she had proved to be most democratic, entirely devoid of the many airs and graces they feared. In fact she had become, as Nathalie said, a favorite with every one, and had nearly as many adorers as Miss Camphelia, who at that moment was having a most beautiful time eating bread and milk in the lap of Ellen, gurgling and winking with baby joy at the gay colors and lights that held her eye.

Supper over, the campers hurried to the cheer fire circle where a tall, uncouth-looking object covered with sheets towered specter-like in the center. Helen, mounting a small platform, announced that the campers had gathered to celebrate the burning of Miss Dummy, who represented the evil spirits that had run riot during their stay at camp.

An Oriole girl now came to the fore as chairman of the spirit committee, as it was called, and made known that a thorough investigation had brought to light many evil spirits that had dominated certain members of the camp at intervals, not only hindering the development of character, but causing discomfort and a few heartaches among their mates.

The evil spirits of grouchiness, shiftlessness, dishonesty, and selfishness, in a sense, had been tamed by the Pioneers' laws and the flames from their cheer fire so that they had not caused much havoc, but there were a few evil ones not so familiar, perhaps, that had persisted in doing their evil work. The princ.i.p.al ones, she claimed, were forgetting each one's own particular failing in the fun of ridiculing the faults and eccentricities of her mates, the disloyalty to one's self by not trying to do one's best, a habit of giggling when there was nothing to giggle at, a desire to shirk responsibility by letting the other one do work that was distasteful, and the weakness of letting one's nerves get the better of one on certain occasions instead of getting the better of the nerves.

Of course this caused much laughter, although each girl recognized her own particular fault, and then and there secretly swore that she would subdue it or die in the attempt.

Helen now asked if there was any reason why the evil spirits just mentioned should not be disposed of for good and all. Receiving a shout that evidently meant a big "No!" she pulled a string, the ghostlike garments fell to the ground, and Miss Dummy stood revealed, an effigy arrayed in an old suit belonging to one of the Pioneers, even to the staff and knapsack, surmounting a pile of dried twigs and brush.

"Miss Dummy," solemnly continued Helen, with as straight a face as she could muster as she confronted the ludicrous-looking evil one, who, with hat awry, huge red nose, and goggle-eyes, stared at her with a leer, "I consign to thee those evil spirits that have caused sorrow and heartaches among the members of Camp Laff-a-Lot, to be burned until thou art ashes, and then to be buried at the bottom of the lake to lie there forever!"

As she ended there was a sudden scurry forward as each Pioneer made one of a circle kneeling around Miss Dummy, and in an instant's time had struck her match and applied it to one of the twigs which served as a pedestal for the evil one. As the firewood had been well oiled it caught quickly from the blue sputterings of so many matches, and yellow flames were soon shooting savagely upward to glow like strings of scarlet among the twigs and briers, causing them to snap and crackle hilariously. In a moment darting tongues were licking Miss Dummy's red cheeks with fiery greed and floated upward to circle about in wreaths of white and black smoke.

[Ill.u.s.tration: She dropped the ashes of Miss Dummy into the placid water.]

Some of the unduly imaginative girls turned away, declaring that the effigy looked like some one of the girls in that suit in the reddened glare of the flames. But the rest joined hands with the scouts and leaped merrily about the blazing pyre, executing weird and strange gyrations, which they termed a fire dance, as a last farewell to their enemy, who finally, done to the death, tumbled to the ground a fiery ma.s.s of scarlet embers. A pail of water soon quenched the last of the spirits, when the ashes were gathered into a big pail and carried in a procession to the sh.o.r.es of the lake.

Here Helen, holding the pail carefully in her hand, stepped into a row-boat and was conveyed to the middle of the lake. By the light of the moon just peeping above the horizon she dropped the ashes of Miss Dummy into the placid water, and to the singing of a comic dirge, composed by one of the Orioles, was rowed silently back to sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER XXV-GOOD-BY TO EAGLE LAKE

After Miss Dummy had been disposed of there was a return to the cheer fire circle, where the Sport performed the unusual feat of lighting three fires with one match. The giving out of merit badges and stars for the work performed during camp life and for the day's sports now took place. These rewards of merit were each accompanied by camp gifts, the work of the girls done afternoons at their "trial by needle" hour, as some of the girls called it, when raffia and bead work, candle making, sewing, and many other crafts had occupied the Pioneers' busy fingers, while some expert read of heroic deeds, or the girls chatted pleasantly of the pleasures that were, or that were to be.

Pioneer and Scout, each in turn, now told of some special good that had come to them from the life in the open, which Mrs. Morrow said would be food for thought on their return to the city. A rhyming contest made no end of merriment, as well as the games of menagerie, gossip, animal, blind man's buff, and others of like character. The scout orchestra now varied the entertainment with a few musical selections which started the girls and boys dancing around the fire again, this time with the graceful swing and motions of the modern dances.

But they tired at last, and, some one starting a song, they all fell in and sang to their heart's content one song after the other, rendering the old-remembered one of "Juanita" with undue emphasis, in honor to Miss Anita Van Vorst.

After Dr. Homer, with the a.s.sistance of a few scouts, had made a deal of laughter by his comic shadowgraphs, done by a flash-lamp placed in the rear of one of the big tents with the flaps closed, the time came to say good-by. A few protested that it was still early, but when reminded by Mrs. Morrow that they had already been allowed an hour longer than usual and that they would have a lot of work to do in the morning as they were to break camp to return to the city, the protests ended, and the good-nights were said.

The last day was a busy one, any number of camp rules were broken but the squads were lenient-they were still sleepy-so no reports were made, and the work of pulling down tents, packing the camp equipment, and making everything as clean and orderly as possible progressed.

In the midst of this confusion Carol, who had made her last trip to the post-office, came rushing up to Nathalie with a letter. "Oh, it's from d.i.c.k!" cried the delighted girl as she tore it open.

"Oh, Helen," she exclaimed in a moment to that young lady who was down on her knees packing the big box, "it's the funniest letter. d.i.c.k says he's having the time of his life-the jolliest ever-why, where can he be?" stopping to glance at the envelope.

"Why, he must be in New York, or I wonder-yes," she nodded in answer to Helen's inquiry, "he says Mamma is fine-says they have had a glorious three weeks-well, I like that," she grumbled with rueful face, "it looks as if they had not missed me a bit and-" But the sound of voices at this moment caused both of the girls to go to the tent door, to see Miss Carol hurriedly heading a procession of men and women towards the tent.

She was screaming excitedly as she came, "Oh, Nathalie, where are you?"

Nathalie, somewhat alarmed by all this appearance of excitement, cried quickly, "Oh, what is it, Carol? What is it?"

"Oh, Nathalie," the girl screamed, "the baby's mother has come!"

"The baby's mother!" echoed the dazed girl with wide eyes. "Why, what does she mean?" turning to Helen, who at that moment had picked up Miss Camphelia, who had just awakened from a nap on one of the cots.

By this time the party of country folk, breathless and somewhat moist from undue haste, with expectancy and delight beaming from every feature, had arrived in front of the tent. Nathalie gave one glance at the many faces, and then with a sudden cry rushed to the defense of what she had come to consider as her own, and the next minute was seated on the cot holding on to Miss Camphelia with a gripping clutch. She stared defiantly at the intruders as they pushed and jostled one another in their haste to enter the tent.

But a moment later her arms relaxed, as a faded-looking, worried-faced little woman, with eyes as blue as the sea, and hair like corn-silk, gave an inarticulate cry as she caught sight of the baby on the girl's lap. Dropping on her knees with outstretched arms she cried, "Oh, my baby! My precious baby!"

Well, after that Nathalie could hold out no longer, especially when she saw that the baby's sweet smile and dimpling cheeks were counterparts of those of the woman who claimed her as her own.

Then it was all explained. The child had been stolen by the gypsy woman who, evidently, after a day or so of tramping from house to house begging for money to reach the Gypsy settlement some distance from the neighboring town, had decided to abandon it. Unfortunately the notice that had been sent to be put up in the post-office had failed to reach its destination, and if it had not been for Dr. McGill, the physician who had been summoned by Edith when Camphelia was ill, the baby would never have been found.

Dr. MCGill had been puzzled by the baby's resemblance to some one he knew, but supposing the little one belonged to some of the ladies at camp he had thought no more about it. Afterwards, however, on accidentally learning from Dr. Homer that it was a lost baby, he had sent the mother to reclaim it.

Of course there were pangs of disappointment to be endured, but, as Nathalie said, no one could be anything but glad to give the baby up after witnessing the mother's joy. After the mother had thanked them all, from Mrs. Van Vorst down to Ellen, for their kindness and the care they had given her baby, hoping that each one of the girls would some day have one of her own to caress and fondle, they all kissed Camphelia good-by, and the camp baby departed to return to its own home.

After a dirge had been composed by Jessie, who had bloomed into quite a poetess, and any number of farewell letters and wishes had been written for the good luck of the next campers at the Lake, these were buried in the ground under a cairn of stones with a tiny American flag fastened at the top. This was the girls' memorial to the good times they had had, as well as an expression of the sadness they felt on leaving the place where they had spent three such happy weeks.

The sadness of parting with the friends they had made in Mrs. Van Vorst's household-not the least being our friend Jimmie-was somewhat lessened when they learned that their hostess and her daughter were to accompany them to New York to spend a day or so with Mrs. Morrow.

Going down in the car, although surrounded by a merry, chattering crowd, Nathalie and Helen became unusually silent. Helen, perhaps, was thinking of the new position she was to enter on her return to Westport, and Nathalie,-well, she could not have told why, but soon she became aware that her thoughts had jumped backward and she was reviewing her first meeting with Helen and the Pioneers.

She half smiled as each one in turn presented herself to her as she first appeared; Barbara, with her queer staring eyes, absent-minded manner, and her frumpish clothes that always made Nathalie think of a five-and-ten-cent store. How often she had been tempted to laugh until she learned of the meanness of Barbara's grandfather, for although he was a rich man Barbara had to scrimp and haggle to get enough to eat, to say nothing of clothes to cover her back. The tears came into her eyes when she realized the kind heart that beat so loyally beneath the despised apparel. After all, what were one's clothes, mere externals necessary of course, but in reality only of face value, for surely they would never gain one an entrance into Heaven. And Helen, what would her life have been in her new home without this neighbor friend-who had taught her to master herself by helping her to overcome the many problems that had confronted her when she had become a Pioneer?

Then she smiled again as she thought of Lillie Bell, with her thrillers and dramatic poses. She had learned that they were but the frosting to the solid worth beneath. Indeed, the thrillers in a way had proved an incentive in the telling of her stories to Rosy, the opening wedge into the good things that had followed, meeting Nita, making the money for d.i.c.k, Mrs. Van Vorst's asking the Pioneers to Eagle Lake, and so on.

Why, when she came to think of it, there was not a girl in her bird group who had not helped her in some way, even Edith, who had taught her to guard her tongue.