"The fellows are going after them now," explained Tom. "This was a dance--" Tom had to leave, and finished on the next round, "for the Camp Fire. The others didn't come first, naturally."

And sure enough, by the time the first dance was over, the extra boys were back, bringing partners with them-girls Camp Karonya knew, and who were presently going to form a second Camp Fire-for Camp Karonya's membership list was almost full now. The newcomers had evidently been asked to wear fancy costume, and the effect of the Indian dresses that the Camp Fire Girls wore, and the boys' military clothes, was lighted up and made more beautiful by the dash of color made by an occasional gypsy or Oriental lady.

The hall had been decorated in a half-military, half-woodland fashion, with tents draped against the walls, crossed rifles, green boughs and lighted lanterns. It was a warm night, so they had filled the big fireplace at the side of the room with boughs. The entrance to the kitchen, where the cooking-cla.s.ses were held in the school every Friday, was covered by a tent. Behind that tent, the exciting rumor spread, was a real colored caterer who was going to serve refreshments of unparalleled splendor at the proper time.

But at about ten o'clock a frenzied rapping was heard from the place which was supposed to hold the mysterious caterer. It rose above the music. Mr. Gedney hurried to the door to see what had happened. An irate negro appeared-the city caterer who had been imported to lend grandeur to the scene.

"Mr. Gedney," he said in what he may have thought was a tragic whisper, but which echoed through half the hall, "I'se been a-caperin' fo'

nineteen yeahs, an' ah nevah had anything as shockin' happen to me as dis heah befo'."

"Why, what's the matter, Thomas?" Mr. Gedney asked, while the more curious of the dancers marked time gently within earshot.

"Dey done stole mah 'freshments!" wailed the darky, forgetting, in his emotion, to lower his voice. "Ah had de ice-cream an' de san-wiches an'

de fruit-punch an' de fancy-cake"-a soft moan went up unconsciously over the room as the hungry dancers heard of these vanished glories-"an' Ah put dem out on de side poach till Ah wanted dem. Ah didn't know Ah was comin' to no thief-town. An dey's _gone!_"

Mr. Gedney rose to the occasion n.o.bly.

"We'll find some of them, Thomas," he said.

By this time nearly everyone in the room had paused about the door. Mr.

Gedney raised his voice. "Ladies," he said, "if you will excuse your partners for half an hour they will go out on the trail of our-ah-vanished refection. Scouts, attention! By twos, forward-hike!"

In an instant every Scout, with a hasty excuse to his partner, had vanished from the building.

"It's that Bent Street gang," hissed Tom to his sister in pa.s.sing. "We know where they hang out, and where they're likely to have cached the eats."

"I only hope there'll be something left by the time the Scouts find the food," wailed Louise. "Don't look so happy, Winnie-it's insulting!"

"She's swelling as if she had an idea," suggested Helen, who had come over. "What is it, Win?"

"So I have!" said Winona, her eyes sparkling as they always did when Great Ideas came her way. She was rather given to them. She ran across to Mrs. Bryan and began to talk to her in an excited whisper.

When she had done Mrs. Bryan nodded.

"Splendid!" she said. "Tell the girls yourself, my dear."

So Winona stood swiftly out in the middle of the floor, a slim, gallant little figure in her Indian frock and the long strings of scarlet beads she had added to it.

"Girls!" she said. "Those refreshments mayn't ever come back. The boys won't be back with them right away, anyhow. Let's get together and make some more!"

"Good!" called out all the girls at once, and came flocking around Mrs.

Bryan and Winona for orders. But Mrs. Bryan wouldn't give any.

"You manage it, Ray of Light!" said she as Winona turned to her.

"We want sandwiches and fruit punch and cakes, and-we can't get ice-cream this late at night," she remembered.

"We can get oysters," said Helen's competent voice from behind a group of girls. "That oyster house down on Front Street is always open till twelve."

"Then we can make creamed oysters-good!" said Winona. "Let's see-sixteen couples-about fifty sandwiches, if you count three to a person. Six loaves of bread, about. Marie, you belong to a big family-do you think you have any bread in the house your family could part with?"

"Three loaves, anyway," said Marie.

"I'll bring the other three," spoke up Elizabeth Greene, one of the new members.

They both threw on their wraps and hurried out. Fortunately, most of the girls lived close by.

"We'll send Thomas for the oysters," suggested Mrs. Bryan next. "None of you want to go to Front Street this time of night."

She produced her purse from the pocket of her ceremonial dress, and went to send Thomas for the oysters.

"Has anybody got anything in their house to fill sandwiches with?"

Winona went on.

"We have two pounds of dates," offered Edith Hillis, "and some rolls of cream cheese."

"And I have the other half of both sketches, peanut b.u.t.ter and lettuces," called out Louise, "three heads, and two big gla.s.ses."

"All right, go get 'em," said Winona unceremoniously, and two more sisters of the Camp Fire hurried on their wraps and fled out into the night.

"I have milk and b.u.t.ter, myself," went on Winona.

"Nannie," hinted Helen to Mrs. Bryan, who had returned, "do you remember those three big layer cakes you made for the Presbyterian fair? I'll make them over again if I can have them now."

"No you won't, my child, because they're my contribution," returned her step-mother briskly. "Thank you for reminding me. I'll get them, and pineapples and lemons for your contribution to the lemonade."

Dorothy remembered that she had some oranges and bananas, and Adelaide finally recalled to the rest that creamed oysters need thickening, and went after flour and salt and pepper.

A couple of the other girls had candy at home, beautifully fresh and home-made. In fifteen minutes every girl was back laden down, and all of them invaded the little school kitchen. Fortunately most of the sixteen had taken cooking lessons there, and knew just where to find everything, even to their own ap.r.o.ns. So there was no time lost searching for matches and knives and bowls, and other such necessaries.

One group of four cut and squeezed and sliced fruit for the fruit-punch-or fruit-lemonade, to give it the only name it was really ent.i.tled to. Another set prepared the sandwiches, which, what with pitting and chopping the dates for the date-and-peanut-b.u.t.ter ones, and cutting and spreading six big loaves of bread, was quite an undertaking.

Another group handled the creamed oysters. This last wasn't exactly a group, though, because, try as you may, it is impossible for more than two people to make one cream gravy, or white sauce. The rest cut cake and arranged plates and looked after the serving generally.

Thomas the "caperer" sat in a corner and "shucked oysters," as he called it, with his two attendant waiters standing statue-like behind him. It made a very impressive, if rather useless group.

Mrs. Bryan lent a helping hand here and there as it was needed, but in the main she left the guidance of the affair to Winona's generalship.

"Why, I didn't know how easy it was to have people do things!" Winona whispered to the Guardian, when that lady came over to her once to advise a little more b.u.t.ter in the gravy.

"You happen to have executive ability, that's all," explained Mrs.

Bryan.

Winona laughed. "Oh, it doesn't take executive ability when people want to help!" she returned gayly.

The boys got back in just forty-five minutes, with rather dirtier uniforms than they had taken away. They were panting, also, and had a general cheerful air of having had something happen. But with them they bore, triumphantly, the untouched freezer, full of beautiful molds of ice-cream; also a large pasteboard box full of untouched, but rather crumpled-looking, fancy cakes.

The sandwiches, they explained regretfully, were beyond recall, and so was the salad. The Bent Street gang had been just about to begin their last course when the Scouts descended.

"We had a bully time!" said Billy Lee to Winona, who emerged from the kitchen, trying hard to look unoccupied, as did all the rest of the girls. "We didn't expect a lark like that in the middle of this. But it's hard on you girls to miss half the refreshments!"