"This is Nomoko," said Captain Clarke, as she nodded a greeting to the colored caretaker and his wife, the latter appearing in the door of the shack, with a red bandanna handkerchief tied around her kinky head. "I have been here before."

"Are you all right?" asked Zeb, the colored man. "No accidents or nothin'?"

"Nothing at all, Zeb, I'm glad to say," was the Captain's answer.

"We are here right side up with care. And will you tell Mrs.

Nelson that for me," she went on to the chauffeur who, with the help of Zeb, was lifting out the baggage and valises.

"I will; yes'm," was the reply. "I am to bring them back here Tuesday morning, and get you. I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, I know we shall," and the Captain's words found echo in the hearts of the girls.

"Let's go fishing! I see a stream that ought to have fish in!"

cried Cleo.

"Let's get our uniforms on and go for a hike. I've never been in these woods before!" cried Margaret.

"Let's see if we can find any specimens--fossils or the like,"

came from Cleo, who had lately developed a collecting fever.

"Let's eat!" declaimed Grace. "I'm starved!"

"I think the last suggestion is best," decided Captain Clark. "We can soon change into our uniforms, and after a meal, which I judge should be called dinner instead of lunch, we may take a walk, or fish, or hike, or fossilize, as you then elect."

"De dinnah am 'mos' ready," announced Alameda, the colored cook.

"Oh, where have I heard them joyous words before?" cried Cleo, pretending to faint into Margaret's arms.

"I golly! Dem suah am lively li'l gals! Dey suah am!" declared Zeb, as he went off to get a fresh pail of water at the spring.

Soon the jolly little party, having the really well-appointed camp to themselves, sat down to a wild-wood meal. To say they enjoyed it is putting it mildly--far too mildly; they were "transported with joy," Grace insisted.

"I declare! It's a shame to stay here any longer!" announced Cleo finally, although the joy had not been entirely consumed.

"Do you mean you're ashamed of eating so much?" asked Grace.

"No, but it's a pity to waste this glorious day in, just staying around camp. Let's go down to the brook, river or whatever it is."

"And may we fish?" asked Margaret.

"I think so. I'll ask Zeb if there are some rods that may be trusted to amateurs," replied the Captain.

There were, as it developed, and presently equipped with all that was needed for the sport, the little party set off through the woods, following a direction Zeb gave them to locate the best fishing place.

It was no new experience for the quartette, led by the Captain, to hike through the woods, but something really new awaited them this time, as they soon discovered to their sorrow.

Cleo was in the lead and, after plunging through a rather thick growth of underbrush, she suddenly uttered a cry.

"What is it--a snake?" asked Margaret, who followed.

"If it is, don't get excited," warned the Captain, who heard the exclamation. "There are absolutely no poisonous snakes in this vicinity, and any other kind is more frightened of you than you can possibly be of him, girls," she insisted.

"It isn't snakes!" cried Cleo. "I almost wish it were. Oh, aren't they horrible! Run, girls, run back, or you'll be eaten up!" and she beat such a hasty retreat, meanwhile wildly flinging her arms up and around her head, that she collided with Margaret, and nearly toppled her into a sa.s.safras bush.

"Oh, I feel 'em, too!" Margaret cried. "Oh, what pests!"

"What in the world is the matter?" demanded Grace, from the rear.

"If we're ever going to fish let's get to the water."

"I'm never going to fish if I have to fight such things as these!"

cried Cleo. "Back! Back to the tents!"

"What is it?" cried Captain Clark. "Are you girls fooling?"

But a moment later, as she felt herself attacked on hands and face, she realized what it was.

"The flying squadron!" she exclaimed. "We must retreat, girls, and get ammunition. I forgot about these."

"The flying squadron? What does she mean?" murmured Cleo, to whom knowledge had not yet come.

CHAPTER XX

CLEO'S EXPERIMENT

Only a moment or two longer were necessary to acquaint Cleo with the cause of the precipitate retreat not only of her three chums, but Captain Clark as well.

"Go on, Cleo! Turn around and hurry back to camp," directed the Captain. "We must get the citronella bottle."

"I doubt if that will be of any use," said Margaret, beating herself frantically on the face with her hands. "These are terrible--worse than mosquitoes."

"Oh, it's bugs, is it?" asked Cleo. "Ouch! I should say it was!

What are they?" she cried, as she felt stinging pains on her hands and face.

"Not bugs, merely black flies," declared Captain Clark. "I did not know there were any in these woods this year, but this must be a sudden and unexpected visitation of them. My friends said nothing about the pests. We simply can't go on if they are to oppose us."

So back they went to camp, the pesky black flies buzzing all around them, biting whenever they got the chance, and that was frequently enough--too much so the girls voted.

"Dat ar citron stuff ain't gwine goin' do much good, ef dey is de real black flies," a.s.serted Zeb, when he heard the story.

"What is good, then?" asked Margaret. "A smudge," promptly answered Cleo. "Don't you know what it says in our hand book? If citronella won't work, try a smudge, and make it of green cedar branches."

"Good memory in a good cause," said Captain Clark, rubbing her smarting areas. "But any sort of smoke will drive them away. A brisk breeze is the best disperser of flying squadrons, though, whether they be of mosquitoes or black flies. That beats even a smudge, and is much more pleasant."

"Yes, I don't care to look like a ham or a flitch of bacon,"

murmured Grace. "Oh, how they sting!"