"'Oh, come to the stable, As soon as you're able And feed the horses grain.

If you don't do it The Captain will know it And raise particular Cain.'"

It was an energetic summons to rise and view a fresh and beautiful world, and Billie, glancing at her watch, was aware that, as a concession to new arrivals, the summons had come half an hour later than scheduled. Half-past five was to be the hour for rising in camp, provided the ladies were willing. And certainly they showed no signs of unwillingness at the six o'clock call. Miss Campbell glanced placidly down the line of white cots. Then she inhaled a breath of the delicious air.

"In all my life I never slept as I did last night," she announced. "Did somebody put sleeping drops in my coffee, I wonder?"

"I fancy the sleeping drops fell in the night in the form of showers,"

observed Mary from her cot at the end of the line. "There was no storm, just one of those quiet steady rains, and I never saw people sleep so hard. I thought you were all dead until I heard Miss Campbell----" Mary paused and blushed. "That is, until I heard some one breathing very heavily."

"Now, Mary Price, don't tell me you heard me snore. I never did such a thing in my life," cried Miss Campbell.

With a laugh, Billie leapt from her bed and ran to take a cold plunge in the mountain water which gurgled from the faucet with the pleasant song it had not left off singing when it leaped out of the side of the rock into the pipe.

At seven o'clock came the clarion call for breakfast: inviting and persuasive it was, with a lingering last note that fell softly on the ear and gradually died into discreet silence.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Mr. Lupo blows the horn with so much expression," said Elinor. "I really think he must have had long experience in summoning people to breakfast who were never ready. He'll be giving 'Weber's Invitation to the Dance' for dinner, I suppose."

They had finished their morning toilets in the locker room, and were about to go downstairs when something tapped against one of the bamboo blinds. Billie promptly drew it up and looked into the clearing below.

"Who's tapping at our chamber door?" she demanded.

A long fishing pole on which dangled five little nosegays made of ferns and gra.s.ses and wild asters was thrust at her. "Why, Algernon Percival,"

she called. "I never dreamed you were so energetic."

"Not guilty," answered that young man's voice from the lower porch.

"When the bugle sounded just now, I was taking a shower bath. I'm still busy, but it doesn't take long to get into camping clothes. Who is the only person we know who would get up at dawn and go tramping off for wild flowers?"

A tall, lanky figure stepped out from the shadow of the gallery and lifted his handsome, thoughtful face up to the girls leaning over the railing.

"Why, it's Ben Austen," they cried. "Dear old Ben, when did you come?"

"Last night at ten o'clock," he answered. "The 'bus wouldn't come up from the village at that hour, so I walked. It was great. How are all of you?" he added, wiggling the nosegays in front of their noses.

"We're as fine as silk," answered Billie, with a happy laugh. "And it's such fun that you and Percy are here. Papa kept it a secret so as to surprise us, I suppose."

"I hope it's a pleasant surprise."

"The jolliest kind," they cried, running downstairs at the second call to breakfast.

Those of you who have read the first volume of this series, "The Motor Maids' School Days," will recall Percy St. Clair and Ben Austen, two West Haven boys who were great friends of the girls during that winter when Billie Campbell and her red car first made their appearance in the town. Percy, in the transition from boyhood to manhood, has changed very little. He is of medium height, and his handsome fair face still flushes like a schoolgirl's, to his great annoyance. Ben, at nineteen, is six feet tall. His face has developed since we knew him some years ago. His features are large and regular, his dark eyes filled with serious intent, and a mop of curly black hair covers his head like a thick cap.

Downstairs they found Mr. Campbell pouring for himself a cup of coffee.

The camp table was never to be set for breakfast, but the dishes were to be piled at one end and the food at the other, and each camper was to help himself to what he chose. There was a good deal of laughing and scrambling at this morning meal. It started everybody off in a good humor, and in time it became the hour for jokes and absurdities that will never die out as long as there are boys and girls enough to keep them alive.

After they had disposed of quant.i.ties of very good food, at least it seemed good to mountain appet.i.tes, Mr. Campbell took a sheet of letter paper from his pocket and rapped for quiet.

"Young people, I want to read you a few rules which must be obeyed if camp is to be run on a military basis, the only way a camp can be successfully conducted. Here they are:

"'RULES FOR SUNRISE CAMP.

"'Unless physically unable, all persons must appear at breakfast promptly at six-thirty. Penalty for not appearing--general housework for a day.

"'Every camper, except Captain Helen E. Campbell, must make his own bed and keep his part of the dormitory in first rate order.

"'There will be inspection twice a week by Captain H. E. Campbell.'"

Miss Campbell bowed her head in acknowledgment of the honor.

"'Dinner at twelve-thirty, unless picnics interfere.

"'Supper at six.

"'SUB-RULES FOR WOMEN MEMBERS.

"'Females unattended or with each other are expressly forbidden to wander off bounds; that is, off the three trails which pa.s.s near this camp.

"'Picnics are forbidden without male attendants.'"

"Dear me," interrupted Billie, "aren't there any laws for the men to follow? These are all against women."

"They are merely for your protection, my dear."

"That's what the men always say when they begin to trample on women's rights," declared Billie.

"All right, Miss Suffragette, just wait a minute. There'll be a few for the men.

"'SUB-RULES FOR WOMEN MEMBERS--Continued.

"'Hobble skirts are forbidden.'" Mr. Campbell gave a jovial wink and glanced at Nancy.

"'Any individual who introduces a Parisian Alpine climbing suit into camp must pay the penalty by being made to climb a mountain in it.'"

"Now, you know that's not on the list. You're making it up," exclaimed Nancy, blushing.

"'The tail feather of a pheasant is not recommended as tr.i.m.m.i.n.g for a camp hat,'" he went on blandly.

"'No woman member is permitted to wear a lavender silk polonaise with lace ruffles.'"

"Polonaise?" cried Miss Campbell. "What on earth are you talking about, Duncan? Do you mean negligee?"

"Oh, excuse my ignorance. I thought it was called polonaise," he answered humbly.

"Polonaise," exclaimed the little lady, amid a wild whoop of laughter.

"It's a good thing you brought your daughter to a woman member to have her education finished. Goodness me!"

"Dearest Papa," said Billie, kissing him, "don't you wear negligee shirts most all the time? It's the same thing."