.dt Campfire Girls at Twin Lake, by Irene Elliott Benson-A Project Gutenberg eBook
.de body {width: 80%; margin: auto;}
// max line length
.ll 72
// Transcriber’s notes in a nice box.
.de .tnbox {background-color:#E3E4FA;border:1px solid silver;padding: 0.5em;margin:2em 10% 0 10%; }
// Creating a simple box around text.
.de .box {margin-left:15%;margin-right:15%;border-style: solid; border-width: medium; padding: 15px}
// default indentation for .nf l blocks
.nr nfl 4
// Page numbering
// .pn off // turn off visible page numbers
// .pn link // turn on page number links
// paragraph formatting, indent paragraphs by 1.0 em.
.nr psi 1.0em
.pi
// include a cover image in HTML only
.if h
.il fn=cover.jpg w=600px
.pb
.if-
// 001.png
// 002.png
.if h
.il fn=frontis.jpg w=600px
.ca
Campfire Girls at Twin Lake
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 4
.nf c
[Illustration: Campfire Girls at Twin Lake]
.nf-
.sp 4
.if-
.pb
// 003.png
.sp 4
.h1
Campfire Girls’|| Lake Camp
.nf c
... OR ...
Searching For New Adventures
By
IRENE ELLIOTT BENSON
.nf-
.if h
.il fn=publogo.jpg w=100px
.if-
.if t
.nf c
[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo]
.nf-
.if-
.nf c
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
Chicago \_\_\_\_ New York
.nf-
.sp 2
// 004.png
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
CAMPFIRE GIRLS’ SERIES
.nf-
.sp 2
\_
.dv class=box
.nf l
Campfire Girls in the Alleghany Mountains;
Or, A Christmas Success Against Odds
Campfire Girls in the Country;
Or, The Secret Aunt Hannah Forgot
Campfire Girls’ Trip Up the River;
Or, Ethel Hollister’s First Lesson
Campfire Girls’ Outing;
Or, Ethel Hollister’s Second Summer in Camp
Campfire Girls on a Hike;
Or, Lost in the Great North Woods
Campfire Girls at Twin Lakes;
Or, The Quest of a Summer Vacation
.nf-
.dv-
.sp 2
.nf c
Copyright
1918
M. A. Donohue & Co.
.nf-
.sp 2
// 005.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2
CONTENTS
.hr 10%
.ta r:6 h:40 r:5
Chapter | | Page
I | About Teeth and Teddy Bears | #9:ch1-01#
II | A Special Meeting Called | #13:ch1-02#
III | A Boy and a Fortune | #18:ch1-03#
IV | The Girls Vote “Aye” | #23:ch1-04#
V | Honors and Spies | #27:ch1-05#
VI | A Telegram En Route | #32:ch1-06#
VII | A Double-Room Mystery | #36:ch1-07#
VIII | Planning in Secret | #42:ch1-08#
IX | Further Plans | #47:ch1-09#
X | A Trip to Stony Point | #51:ch1-10#
XI | Miss Perfume Interferes | #56:ch1-11#
XII | The Man in the Auto | #61:ch1-12#
XIII | A Nonsense Plot | #65:ch1-13#
XIV | Sparring for a Fee | #70:ch1-14#
XV | Langford Gets a Check | #75:ch1-15#
XVI | Langford Checks Up | #82:ch1-16#
XVII | A Day of Hard Work | #87:ch1-17#
XVIII | Planning | #91:ch1-18#
XIX | Watched | #95:ch1-19#
XX | A Missile | #100:ch1-20#
XXI | “Sh” | #104:ch1-21#
XXII | The Graham Girls Call | #108:ch1-22#
XXIII | “High C” | #115:ch1-23#
XXIV | The Runaway | #120:ch1-24#
XXV | A Little Scrapper | #125:ch1-25#
XXVI | Ammunition and Catapults | #130:ch1-26#
XXVII | The Ghost | #136:ch1-27#
XXVIII | A Bump on the Head | #141:ch1-28#
XXIX | A Cruel Woman | #146:ch1-29#
XXX | The Girls Win | #151:ch1-30#
Book 2 | A Princess of the Woods | #155#
Story |Edna’s Sacrifice | #304#
.ta-
.sp 2
// 006.png
.pb
.sp 4
\_
.dv class=box
.nf c
CAMPFIRE GIRLS SERIES
.nf-
.hr 10%
.nf c
HOW ETHEL HOLLISTER BECAME A CAMPFIRE GIRL
ETHEL HOLLISTER’S SECOND SUMMER AS A CAMPFIRE GIRL
CAMPFIRE GIRLS MOUNTAINEERING
CAMPFIRE GIRL’S RURAL RETREAT
CAMPFIRE GIRLS IN THE FOREST
CAMPFIRE GIRL’S LAKE CAMP
.nf-
.hr 10%
.nf c
List Price 75¢ Each
.nf-
.dv-
\_
.sp 2
// 007.png
.pn 9
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT TWIN LAKES
OR
The Quest of a Summer Vacation
BY STELLA M. FRANCIS
.nf-
.sp 2
.hr 30%
.h2 id=ch1-01
CHAPTER I.||ABOUT TEETH AND TEDDY BEARS.
.sp 2
“Girls, I have some great news for you. I’m
sure you’ll be interested, and I hope you’ll be
as delighted as I am. Come on, all of you.
Gather around in a circle just as if we were
going to have a Council Fire and I’ll tell you
something that will—that will—Teddy Bear
your teeth.”
A chorus of laughter, just a little derisive,
greeted Katherine Crane’s enigmatical figure
of speech. The merriment came from eleven
members of Flamingo Camp Fire, who proceeded
to form an arc of a circle in front of
the speaker on the hillside grass plot near
the white canvas tents of the girls’ camp.
“What does it mean to Teddy Bear your
teeth?” inquired Julietta Hyde with mock impatience.
“Come, Katherine, you are as much
of a problem with your ideas as Harriet Newcomb
is with her big words. Do you know the
nicknames some of us are thinking of giving
to her?”
// 008.png
.pn +1
“No, what is it?” Katherine asked.
“Polly.”
“Polly? Why Polly?” was the next question
of the user of obscure figures of speech,
who seemed by this time to have forgotten
the subject that she started to introduce when
she opened the conversation.
“Polly Syllable, of course,” Julietta answered,
and the burst of laughter that followed
would have been enough to silence the
most ambitious joker, but this girl fun-maker
was not in the least ambitious, so she laughed
appreciatively with the others.
“Well, anyway,” she declared after the merriment
had subsided; “Harriet always uses
her polysyllables correctly, so I am not in the
least offended at your comparison of my obscurities
with her profundities. There, how’s
that? Don’t you think you’d better call me
Polly, too?”
“Not till you explain to us what it means
to Teddy Bear one’s teeth,” Azalia Atwood
stipulated sternly. “What I’m afraid of is
that you’re trying to introduce politics into
this club, and we won’t stand for that a minute.”
“Oh, yes, Julietta, you may have your wish,
if what Azalia says is true,” Marie Crismore
announced so eagerly that everybody present
knew that she had an idea and waited expectantly
for it to come out. “We’ll call you Polly—Polly
Tix.”
Of course everybody laughed at this, and
// 009.png
.pn +1
then Harriet Newcomb demanded, that her
rival for enigmatical honors make good.
“What does it mean to Teddy Bear one’s
teeth?” she demanded.
“Oh, you girls are making too much of that
remark,” Katherine protested modestly. “I
really am astonished at every one of you,
ashamed of you, in fact, for failing to get me.
I meant that you would be delighted—dee-light-ed—get
me?—dee-light-ed.”
“Oh, I get you,” Helen Nash announced,
lifting her hand over her head with an “I
know, teacher,” attitude.
“Well, Helen, get up and speak your piece,”
Katherine directed.
“You referred to the way Theodore Roosevelt
shows his teeth when he says he’s “dee-light-ed”;
but we got you wrong. When you
said you would tell us something that would
‘Teddy Bear’ our teeth, you meant b-a-r-e, not
b-e-a-r. When Teddy laughs, he bares his
teeth. Isn’t that it?”
“This isn’t the first time that Helen Nash
has proved herself a regular Sherlock
Holmes,” Marion Stanlock declared enthusiastically.
“We are pretty well equipped with
brains in this camp, I want to tell you. We
have Harriet, the walking dictionary; Katherine,
the girl enigma; and Helen, the detective.”
“Every girl is supposed to be a puzzle,”
Ernestine Johanson reminded. “I don’t like to
snatch any honors away from anyone, but,
// 010.png
.pn +1
you know, we should always have the truth.”
“Yes, let us have the truth about this interesting,
Teddy-teeth-baring, dee-light-ing announcement
that Katherine has to make to
us,” Estelle Adler implored.
“The delay wasn’t my fault,” Katherine
said, with an attitude of “perfect willingness
if all this nonsense will stop.” “But here
comes Miss Ladd. Let’s wait for her to join
us, for I know you will all want her opinion
of the proposition I am going to put to you.”
Miss Harriet Ladd, Guardian of the Fire,
bearing a large bouquet of wild flowers that
she had just gathered in timber and along the
bank of the stream, joined the group of girls
seated on the grass a minute later, and then
all waited expectantly for Katherine to begin.
.sp 2
// 011.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-02
CHAPTER II||A SPECIAL MEETING CALLED.
.sp 2
Fern hollow—begging the indulgence of
those who have read the earlier volume of this
series—is a deep, richly vegetated ravine or
gully forming one of a series of scenic convolutions
of the surface of the earth which gave
the neighboring town of Fairberry a wide
reputation as a place of beauty.
The thirteen Camp Fire Girls, who had
pitched their tents on the lower hillside, a few
hundred feet from a boisterous, gravel-and-boulder
bedded stream known as Butter
creek, were students at Hiawatha Institute, a
girls’ school in a neighboring state. The students
of that school were all Camp Fire Girls,
and it was not an uncommon thing for individual
Fires to spend parts of their vacations
together at favorite camping places. On the
present occasion the members of Flamingo
Fire were guests of one of their own number,
Hazel Edwards, on the farm of the latter’s
aunt, Mrs. Hannah Hutchins, which included
a considerable section of the scenic Ravine
known as Fern hollow.
They had had some startling adventures in
the last few weeks, and although several days
had elapsed since the windup in these events
and it seemed that a season of quiet, peaceful
camp life was in store for them, still they were
// 012.png
.pn +1
sufficiently keyed up to the unusual in life to
accept surprises and astonishing climaxes as
almost matters of course.
But all of these experiences had not rendered
them restless and discontented when
events slowed down to the ordinary course of
every-day life, including three meals a day,
eight hours’ sleep, and a program of tramps,
exercises and honor endeavors. The girls
were really glad to return to their schedule
and their handbook for instructions as to how
they should occupy their time. After all, adventures
make entertaining reading, but very
few, if any, persons normally constituted
would choose a melodramatic career if offered
as an alternative along with an even-tenor existence.
All within one week, these girls had witnessed
the execution of an astonishing plot by
a band of skilled lawbreakers and subsequently
had followed Mrs. Hutchins through
a series of experiences relative to the loss of a
large amount of property, which she held in
trust for a relative of her late husband, and
its recovery through the brilliant and energetic
endeavors of some of the members of the
Camp Fire, particularly Hazel Edwards and
Harriet Newcomb. The chief culprit, Percy
Teich, a nephew of Mrs. Hutchins’ late husband,
had been captured, had escaped, had
been captured again and lodged in jail, and
clews as to the identity of a number of the
rest had been worked out by the police, so
// 013.png
.pn +1
that the hope was expressed confidently that
eventually they, too, would be caught.
“Mrs. Hutchins is very grateful for the part
this Camp Fire took in the recovery of the
lost securities of which she was trustee,”
Katherine announced by way of introducing
her “great news” to the members of the Fire
who assembled in response to her call. “Of
course Hazel did the really big things, assisted
and encouraged by the companionship of Harriet
and Violet, but Mrs. Hutchins feels like
thanking us all for being here and looking
pleasant.”
Hazel Edwards, niece of Mrs. Hutchins, was
not present during this conversation. By
prearranged purpose, she was absent from
the camp when Katherine put to the other
girls the proposition made by the wealthy
aunt of their girl hostess. The reason it was
decided best for her to remain away while
the other girls were considering the plan was
that it was feared that her presence might
tend to suppress arguments against its acceptance,
and that was a possibility which Hazel
and her aunt wished to avoid. So Katherine
was selected to lay the matter before the
Camp Fire because she was no more chummy
with Hazel than any of the other girls.
“Let’s make this a special business meeting,”
suggested Miss Ladd, who had already
discussed the proposition with Katherine and
Mrs. Hutchins. “What Katherine has to say
interests you as an organization. You’d have
// 014.png
.pn +1
to bring the matter up at a business meeting
anyway to take action on it and our regular
one is two weeks ahead. We can’t wait that
long if we are going to do anything on the
subject.”
It was a little after 10 o’clock and the girls
had been working for the last hour at various
occupations which appeared on their several
routine schedules for this part of the day. In
fact, all of their regular academic and hand-work
study hours were in the morning. Just
before Katherine called the girls together,
they were seated here and there in shaded
spots on camp chairs or on the grass in the
vicinity of the camp, occupied thus:
Violet Munday and Marie Crismore were
studying the lives of well-known Indians.
Julietta Hyde and Estelle Adler were reading
a book of Indian legends and making a study
of Indian symbols. Harriet Newcomb and
Azalia Atwood were studying the Camp Fire
hand-sign language. Ernestine Johanson and
Ethel Zimmerman were crocheting some
luncheon sets. Ruth Hazelton and Helen
Nash were mending their ceremonial gowns.
Marion Stanlock was making a beaded head
band and Katherine Crane, secretary of the
Fire, was looking over the minutes of the last
meeting and preparing a new book in which
to enter the records of the next meeting.
Everybody signifying assent to the Guardian’s
suggestion, a meeting was declared and
called to order, the Wohelo Song was sung,
// 015.png
.pn +1
the roll was called, the minutes of the last
meeting were read, the reports of the treasurer
and committees were deferred, as were
also the recording of honors in the Record
Book and the decorating of the count, and
then the Guardian called for new business.
This was the occasion for Katherine to address
the meeting formally on the matter she
had in mind.
// 016.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-03
CHAPTER III||A BOY AND A FORTUNE.
.sp 2
“Now,” said Katherine after all the preliminaries
of a business meeting had been gone
through, “I’ll begin all over again, so that this
whole proceeding may be thoroughly regular.
I admit I went at it rather spasmodically, but
you know we girls are constituted along sentimental
lines, and that is one of the handicaps
we are up against in our efforts to develop
strong-willed characters like those of
men.”
“I don’t agree with you,” Marie Crismore
put in with a rather saucy pout. “I don’t believe
we are built along sentimental lines at
all. I’ve known lots of men—boys—a few, I
mean—and have heard of many more who
were just as sentimental as the most sentimental
girl.”
There were several half-suppressed titters
in the semicircle of Camp Fire Girls before
whom Katherine stood as she began her address.
Marie was an unusually pretty girl, a
fact which of itself was quite enough to
arouse the humor of laughing eyes when she
commented on the sentimentality of the opposite
sex. Moreover, her evident confusion as
she tangled herself up, in her efforts to avoid
personal embarrassment, was exceedingly
amusing.
“I would suggest, Katherine,” Miss Ladd interposed,
// 017.png
.pn +1
“that you be careful to make your
statement simple and direct and not say anything
that is likely to start an argument. If
you will do that we shall be able to get
through much more rapidly and more satisfactorily.”
Katherine accepted this as good advice and
continued along the lines suggested.
“Well, the main facts are these,” she said;
“Mrs. Hutchins has learned that the child
whose property she holds in trust is not being
cared for and treated as one would expect a
young heir to be treated, and something like
$3,000 a year is being paid to the people who
have him in charge for his support and education.
The people who have him in charge get
this money in monthly installments and make
no report to anybody as to the welfare of their
ward.
“The name of this young heir is Glen Irving.
He is a son of Mrs. Hutchins’ late husband’s
nephew. When Glen’s father died he left most
of his property in trust for the boy and made
Mr. Hutchins trustee, and when Mr. Hutchins
died, the trusteeship passed on to Mrs. Hutchins
under the terms of the will.
“That, you girls know, is the property
which was lost for a year and a half following
Mr. Hutchins’ death because he had hidden
the securities where they could not be
found. Although Hazel, no doubt assisted
very much by Harriet, is really the one who
discovered those securities and returned them
// 018.png
.pn +1
to her aunt, still Mrs. Hutchins seems disposed
to give us all some of the credit.
“For several months reports have reached
Mrs. Hutchins that her grandnephew has not
been receiving the best of care from the relatives
who have charge of him. She has tried
in various ways to find out how much truth
there was in these reports, but was unsuccessful.
Little Glen, who is only 10 years old,
has been in the charge of an uncle and aunt
on his mother’s side ever since he became an
orphan three or four years ago. His father,
in his will, named this uncle and aunt as
Glen’s caretakers, but privately executed another
instrument in which he gave Mr. and
Mrs. Hutchins guardianship powers to supervise
the welfare of little Glen. It was understood
that these powers were not to be exercised
unless special conditions made it necessary
for them to step in and take charge of the
boy.
“Mrs. Hutchins wants to find out now
whether such conditions exist. At the time
of the death of Glen’s father, he lived in Baltimore,
and his uncle and aunt, who took
charge of him, lived there, too. It seems that
they were only moderately well-to-do and the
$3,000 a year they got for the care and education
of the boy was a boon to them. Of
course, $3,000 a year was more than was
needed, but that was the provision made by
his father in his will, and as long as they had
possession of the boy they were entitled to the
// 019.png
.pn +1
money. Moreover, Mrs. Hutchins understands
that Glen’s father desired to pay the caretakers
of his child so well that there could be
no doubt that he would get the best of everything
he needed, particularly education.
“But apparently his father made a big mistake
in selecting the persons who were to take
the places of father and mother to the little
boy. If reports are true, they have been using
most of the money on themselves and their
own children and Glen has received but indifferent
clothes, care, and education. Now I
am coming to the main point of my statement
to you.
“Mrs. Hutchins talked the matter over with
Miss Ladd and me and asked us to put it up to
you in this way: She was wondering if we
wouldn’t like to make a trip to the place where
Glen is living and find out how he is treated.
Mrs. Hutchins has an idea that we are a
pretty clever set of girls and there is no use of
trying to argue her out of it. So that much
must be agreed to so far as she is concerned.
She wants to pay all of our expenses and has
worked out quite an elaborate plan; or rather
she and her lawyer worked it out together.
Really, it is very interesting.”
“Why, she wants us to be real detectives,”
exclaimed Violet Munday excitedly.
“No, don’t put it that way,” Julietta Hyde
objected. “Just say she wants us to take the
parts of fourteen Lady Sherlock Holmeses in
a Juvenile drama in real life.”
// 020.png
.pn +1
“Very cleverly expressed,” Miss Ladd remarked
admiringly. “Detective is entirely
too coarse a term to apply to any of my Camp
Fire Girls and I won’t stand for it.”
“We might call ourselves special agents,
operatives, secret emissaries, or mystery
probers,” Harriet Newcomb suggested.
“Yes, we could expect something like that
from our walking dictionary,” said Ernestine
Johanson. “But whatever we call ourselves,
I am ready to vote aye. Come on with your—or
Mrs. Hutchins and her lawyers’—plan,
Katherine. I’m impatient to hear the rest of
it.”
Katherine produced an envelope from her
middy-blouse pocket and drew from it a folded
paper, which she unfolded and spread out before
her.
// 021.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-04
CHAPTER IV||THE GIRLS VOTE “AYE”.
.sp 2
“Before I take up the plan outlined by Mrs.
Hutchins and her lawyer,” Katherine continued,
as she unfolded the paper, “I want to
explain one circumstance that might be confusing
if left unexplained. As I said, the uncle
and aunt who have Glen in charge live in Baltimore.
They do not own any real estate, but
rent a rather expensive apartment, which
they never could support on the family income
aside from the monthly payments received
from Mrs. Hutchins as trustee of Glen’s estate.
This family’s name is Graham, and its
head, James Graham, is a bookkeeper receiving
a salary of about $1,800 a year. In these
war times, when the cost of living is so high,
that is a very moderate salary on which to
support a family of six: father, mother, two
girls and two boys, including Glen.
“But this family, according to reports that
have reached Mrs. Hutchins, is living in
clover. Mr. Graham, who is a hard working
man, still holds his bookkeeping position, but
in this instance it is a case of ‘everybody loafs
but father.’ He is said to be a very much henpecked
husband. Mrs. Graham is said to be
the financial dictator of the family.
“Now, Mrs. Graham seems to be a woman
of much social ambition. Among the necessaries
of the best social equipment, you know,
// 022.png
.pn +1
is a summer cottage in a society summer resort
with sufficient means to support it respectably
and leisure in the summer to spend
at the resort. It is said that the Grahams
have all this. They have purchased or leased
a cottage at Twin Lakes, which you know is
only about a hundred miles from Hiawatha
Institute. I think that every one of us has
been there at one time or another. It is about
three hundred miles from here.
“What Mrs. Hutchins wants us to do is to
make a trip to Twin Lakes, pitch our tents
and start a Camp Fire program just as if we
were there to put in a season of recreation
and honor work. But meanwhile, she wants
us to become acquainted with the Graham
family, cultivate an intimacy with them, if
you please, and be able to report back to her
just what conditions we find in their family
circle, just how Glen is treated, and whether
or not he gets reasonable benefits from the
money given to the Grahams for his support
and education.
“I have given you in detail, I think, what is
outlined on this paper I hold in my hand. I
don’t think I have left out anything except
the names of the children of the Graham family.
But there are no names at all on this
paper. The reason for this is that it was
thought best not to disclose the identity of the
family for the information of any other person
into whose hands it might fall, if it should
be lost by us. The names are indicated thus:
// 023.png
.pn +1
‘A’ stands for the oldest member of the family,
Mrs. Graham, for she is two years older
than her husband and the real head of the
household; ‘B’ stands for the next younger,
Mr. Graham; ‘C’ stands for Addie, the oldest
daughter; ‘D’ for the next daughter, Olga;
‘E’ for the only son, James, named after his
father; and ‘F’ stands for Glen. There, you
have the whole proposition. What do you
want to do with it? Mrs. Hutchins, I neglected
to mention, wants to pay all of our expenses
and hire help to take off our hands all
the labor of moving our camp.”
Replies were not slow coming. Nearly
every one of the girls had something to say,
as indicated by the eager attitudes of all and
requests from several to be recognized by the
Guardian, who was “in the chair.” Azalia
Atwood was the first one called upon.
“I think the proposition of Mrs. Hutchins
is simply great,” the latter declared with vim.
“It’s delightfully romantic, sounds like a story
with a plot, and would make fourteen heroines
out of us if we were successful in our mission.”
“I want to warn you against one danger,”
Miss Ladd interposed at this point. “The natural
thing for you to do at the start, after
hearing this lengthy indictment of the Graham
family, is to conclude that they are a bad
lot and to feel an eagerness to set out to prove
it. Now, I admit that that is my feeling in
this matter, but I know also that there is a
// 024.png
.pn +1
possibility of mistake. The Grahams may be
high class people, but they may have enemies
who are trying to injure them. If you take
up the proposition of Mrs. Hutchins, you must
keep this possibility in mind, for unless you
do, you might do not only the Grahams a
great injustice, but little Glen as well. It
would be a pity to tear him away from a perfectly
good home that has been vilified by
false accusations made by unscrupulous enemies.”
The discussion was continued for nearly an
hour, the written instructions in Katherine’s
possession were read aloud and then a vote
was taken. It was unanimous, in favor of performing
the task proposed by Mrs. Hutchins.
// 025.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-05
CHAPTER V||HONORS AND SPIES.
.sp 2
“Why couldn’t this expedition be arranged
so that we girls could all win some honors out
of it?” Ruth Hazelton inquired, after the details
of Mrs. Hutchins’ plan had been discussed
thoroughly and the vote had been
taken.
“That is a good suggestion,” said Miss Ladd.
“What kind of honors would you propose
Ruth?”
The latter was silent for some minutes.
She was going over in her mind the list of
home-craft, health-craft, camp-craft, hand-craft,
nature-lore, business and patriotism
honors provided for by the organization, but
none of them seemed to fit in with the program
of the proposed secret investigation.
“I don’t think of any,” she said at last.
“There aren’t any, are there?”
“No, there are not,” the Guardian replied.
“But now is the time for the exercise of a little
ingenuity. Who speaks first with an
idea?”
“I have one,” announced Ethel Zimmerman
eagerly.
“Well, what is it, Ethel?” Miss Ladd inquired.
“Local honors,” replied the girl with the
first idea. “Each Camp Fire is authorized to
create local honors and award special beads
// 026.png
.pn +1
and other emblems to those who make the requirements.”
“Under what circumstances is such a proceeding
authorized?” was Miss Ladd’s next
question.
“When it is found that local conditions call
for the awarding of honors not provided for
in the elective list.”
“Do such honors count for anything in the
qualifications for higher rank?”
“They do not,” Ethel answered like a pupil
who had learned her lesson very well and felt
no hesitancy in making her recitation.
“What kind of honor would you confer on
me if I exhibited great skill in spying on someone
else?” asked Helen Nash in her usual cool
and deliberate manner.
A problematical smile lit up the faces of
several of the girls who caught the significance
of this suggestion. Miss Ladd smiled,
too, but not so problematically.
“You mean to point out the incongruity of
honors and spies, I presume,” the Guardian
interpreted, addressing Helen.
“Not very seriously,” the latter replied with
an expression of dry humor. “I couldn’t resist
the temptation to ask the question and, moreover,
it occurred to me that a little discussion
on the subject of honors and spies might help
to complete our study of the problem before
us.”
“Do you mean that we are going to be
spies?” Violet Munday questioned.
// 027.png
.pn +1
“Why, of course we are,” Helen replied,
with a half-twinkle in her eyes.
“I don’t like the idea of spying on anybody
and would rather call it something else,” said
Marie Crismore. “First someone calls us detectives
and then somebody calls us spies.
What next? Ugh!”
“Why don’t you like to spy on anybody?”
asked Harriet Newcomb.
“Well,” Marie answered hesitatingly; “you
know that there are thousands of foreign
spies in this country trying to help our enemies
in Europe, and I don’t like to be classed
with them.”
“That’s patriotic,” said Helen, the twinkle
in her eyes becoming brighter. “But you
must remember that there are spies and spies,
good spies and bad spies. All of our law-enforcement
officials are spies in their attempts
to crush crime. Your mother was a spy when
she watched you as a little tot stealing into
the pantry to poke your fist into the jam. That
is what Mrs. Hutchins suspects is taking place
now. Someone has got his or her fist in the
jam. We must go and peek in through the
pantry door.”
“Oh, if you put it that way, it’ll be lots of
fun,” Marie exclaimed eagerly. “I’d just like
to catch ’em with their fists all—all—smeared!”
She brought the last word out so ecstatically
that everybody laughed.
“I’m afraid you have fallen into the pit that
// 028.png
.pn +1
I warned you against,” Miss Ladd said, addressing
Marie. “You mustn’t start out eager
to prove the persons, under suspicion, guilty.”
“Then we must drive out of our minds the
picture of the fists smeared with jam,” deplored
Marie with a playful pout.
“I fear that you must,” was the smiling concurrence
of the Guardian.
“Very well; I’m a good soldier,” said Marie,
straightening up as if ready to “shoulder
arms.” “I won’t imagine any jam until I see
it.”
“Here comes Hazel,” cried Julietta, and
everybody looked in the direction indicated.
Hazel Edwards had taken advantage of this
occasion to go to her aunt’s house and thence
to the city Red Cross headquarters for a new
supply of yarn for their army and navy knitting.
As she emerged from the timber and
continued along the edge of the woods toward
the site of the camp, the assembled campers
could see that she carried a good-sized bundle
under one arm.
“She’s got some more yarn, and we can now
take up our knitting again,” said Ethel Zimmerman,
who had proved herself to be the
most rapid of all the members of the Camp
Fire with the needles.
Although the business of the meeting was
finished, by tacit agreement those present decided
not to adjourn until Hazel arrived and
received official notice of what had been done.
“I’m delighted with your decision,” Hazel
// 029.png
.pn +1
said eagerly. “And, do you know, I believe
we are going to have some adventure. I’ve
been talking the matter over with Aunt Hannah
and she has told me a lot of very interesting
things. But when do you want to go?”
“We haven’t discussed that yet,” Miss Ladd
replied. “I suppose we could go almost any
time.”
“Let’s go at once,” proposed Marion Stanlock.
“We haven’t anything to keep us here
and we can come back as soon as—as soon as
we find the jam on somebody’s fist.”
This figure of speech called for an explanation
for Hazel’s benefit. Then Ruth Hazelton
moved that the Camp Fire place itself at Mrs.
Hutchins’ service to leave for Twin Lakes as
soon as she thought best, and this motion was
carried unanimously.
“I move that Katherine Crane be appointed
a committee of one to notify Mrs. Hutchins
of our action and get instructions from her
for our next move,” said Violet Munday.
“Second the motion,” said Azalia Atwood.
“Question!” shouted Harriet Newcomb.
“Those in favor say aye,” said Miss Ladd.
A hearty chorus of “ayes” was the response.
“Contrary minded, no.”
Silence.
“The ayes have it.”
The meeting adjourned.
// 030.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-06
CHAPTER VI||A TELEGRAM EN ROUTE.
.sp 2
At 9 o’clock in the morning two days later,
a train of three coaches, two sleepers and a
parlor car, pulled out of Fairberry northwest
bound. It was a clear midsummer day, not
oppressively warm. The atmosphere had been
freshened by a generous shower of rain a few
hours before sunup.
In the parlor car near one end sat a group
of thirteen girls and one young woman. The
latter, Miss Ladd, Guardian of Flamingo
Camp Fire, we will hereafter designate as
“one of the girls.” She was indeed scarcely
more than a girl, having passed her voting
majority by less than a year.
The last two days had been devoted principally
to preparations for this trip. Mrs.
Hutchins had engaged two men who struck
the tents and packed these and all the other
camp paraphernalia and expressed the entire
outfit to Twin Lakes station. On the morning
before us, Mrs. Hutchins accompanied the
fourteen girls to the train at the Fairberry
depot and bade them good-byee and wished
them success in their enterprise.
There were few other passengers in the parlor
car when the Camp Fire Girls entered.
One old gentleman obligingly moved forward
from a seat at the rear end, and the new passengers
// 031.png
.pn +1
were able to occupy a section all by
themselves.
Before starting for the train, Miss Ladd
called her little flock of “spies” together and
gave them a short lecture.
“Now, girls,” she said with keen deliberation,
“we are about to embark on a venture
that has in it elements which will put many
of your qualities to severe test. And these
tests are going to begin right away. Perhaps
the first will be a test of your ability to hold
your tongues. That’s pretty hard for a bevy
of girls who like to talk better than anything
else, isn’t it?”
“Do you really mean to accuse us of liking
to talk better than anything else?” inquired
Marie Crismore, flushing prettily.
“I didn’t say so, did I?” was the Guardian’s
answering query.
“Not exactly. But you meant it, didn’t
you?”
“I refuse to be pinned down to an answer,”
replied Miss Ladd, smiling enigmatically. “I
suspect that if I leave you something to guess
about on that subject it may sink in deeper.
Now, can any of you surmise what specifically
I am driving at?”
Nobody ventured an answer, and Miss Ladd
continued:
“Don’t talk about our mission to Twin
Lakes except on secret occasions. Don’t drop
remarks now and then or here and there that
may be overheard and make someone listen
// 032.png
.pn +1
for more. For instance, on the train, forget
that you are on anything except a mere pleasure
trip or Camp Fire excursion. Be absolutely
certain that you don’t drop any remarks
that might arouse anybody’s curiosity
or suspicion. It might, you know, get to the
very people whom we wish to keep in ignorance
concerning our moves and motives.”
“I see you are bound to make sure enough
spies out of us,” said Marie Crismore pertly.
“Well, I’m going to start out with the determination
of pulling my hat down over my
eyes, hiding in every shadow I see and peeking
around every corner I can get to. Oh, I’m
going to be some sleuth, believe me.”
“What will you say when you catch somebody
with jam on his fingers?” Harriet Newcomb
inquired.
Marie leaned forward eagerly and answered
dramatically:
“I’ll suddenly appear before the villain and
shout: ‘Halt, you are my prisoner! Throw
up your jammed hands!’”
After the laugh that greeted this response
subsided, Miss Ladd closed her lecture thus:
“I think you all appreciate the importance
now of keeping your thoughts to yourselves
except when we are in conference. I’m glad
to see you have a lot of fun over this subject,
but don’t let your gay spirits cause you to permit
any unguarded remarks to escape.”
On the train the girls all got out their knitting,
and soon their needles were plying merrily
// 033.png
.pn +1
away on sleeveless sweaters, socks, helmets,
and wristlets for the boys at the front,
timing their work by their wrist watches for
patriotism honors. True to their resolve, following
Miss Ladd’s warning lecture, they kept
the subject of their mission out of their conversation,
and it is probable that no reference
to it would have been made during the entire
300-mile journey if something had not happened
which forced it keenly to the attention
of every one of them.
The train on which they were traveling was
a limited and the first stop was fifty miles
from Fairberry. A few moments after the
train stopped, a telegraph messenger walked
into the front entrance of the parlor car and
called out:
“Telegram for Miss Harriet Ladd.”
The latter arose and received the message,
signed the receipt blank, and tore open the
envelope. Imagine her astonishment as she
read the following:
“Miss Harriet Ladd, parlor car, Pocahontas
Limited: Attorney Pierce Langford is on your
train, first coach. Bought ticket for Twin
Lakes. Small man, squint eyes, smooth face.
Watch out for him. Letter follows telegram,
Mrs. Hannah Hutchins.”
// 034.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-07
CHAPTER VII||A DOUBLE-ROOM MYSTERY.
.sp 2
Miss Ladd passed the telegram around
among the girls after writing the following
explanation at the foot of the message:
“Pierce Langford is the Fairberry attorney
that represented scheming relatives of Mrs.
Hutchins’ late husband, who attempted to
force money out of her after the disappearance
of the securities belonging to Glen Irving’s
estate. Leave this matter to me and
don’t talk about it until we reach Twin
Lakes.”
Nothing further was said about the incident
during the rest of the journey, as requested
by Miss Ladd. The girls knitted,
rested, chatted, read, and wrote a few post-cards
or “train letters” to friends. But although
there was not a word of conversation
among the Camp Fire members relative to the
passenger named in Mrs. Hutchins’ telegram,
yet the subject was not absent from their
minds much of the time.
They were being followed! No other construction
could be put upon the telegram. But
for what purpose? What did the unscrupulous
lawyer—that was the way Mrs. Hutchins
had once referred to Pierce Langford—have
in mind to do? Would he make trouble for
them in any way that would place them in an
// 035.png
.pn +1
embarrassing position? These girls had had
experiences in the last year which were likely
to make them apprehensive of almost anything
under such circumstances as these.
Warned of the presence on the train of a
probable agent of the family that Mrs. Hutchins
had under suspicion, the girls were constantly
on the alert for some evidence of his
interest in them and their movements. And
they were rewarded to this extent: In the
course of the journey, Langford paid the conductor
the extra mileage for parlor car privileges,
and as he transferred from the coach,
not one of the Flamingoites failed to observe
the fact that in personal appearance he answered
strikingly the description of the man
referred to in the telegram received by Miss
Ladd.
The squint-eyed man of mystery, in the coolest
and most nonchalant manner, took a seat a
short distance in front of the bevy of knitting
Camp Fire Girls, unfolded a newspaper and
appeared to bury himself in its contents, oblivious
to all else about him.
Half an hour later he arose and left the
car, passing out toward the rear end of the
train. Another half hour elapsed and he did
not reappear. Then Katherine Crane and
Hazel Edwards put away their knitting and
announced that they were going back into the
observation car and look over the magazines.
They did not communicate to each other their
real purpose in making this move, but neither
// 036.png
.pn +1
had any doubt as to what was going on in the
mind of the other. Marie Crismore looked at
them with a little squint of intelligence and
said as she arose from her chair:
“I think I’ll go, too, for a change.”
But this is what she interpolated to herself:
“They’re going back there to spy, and I
think I’ll go and spy, too.”
They found Langford in the observation
car, apparently asleep in a chair. Katherine,
who entered first, declared afterwards that
she was positive she saw him close his eyes
like a flash and lapse into an appearance of
drowsiness, but if she was not in error, his
subsequent manner was a very clever simulation
of midday slumber. Three or four times
in the course of the next hour he shifted his
position and half opened his eyes, but drooped
back quickly into the most comfortable appearance
of somnolent lassitude.
The three girls were certain that all this
was pure “make-believe,” but they did not
communicate their conviction to each other by
look or suggestion of any kind. They played
their part very well, and it is quite possible
that Langford, peeking through his eyewinkers,
was considerably puzzled by their manner.
He had no reason to believe that he was
known to them by name or reputation, much
less by personal appearance.
It was in fact a game of spy on both sides
during most of the journey, with little but
// 037.png
.pn +1
mystifying results. The train reached Twin
Lakes at about sundown, and even then the
girls had discovered no positive evidence as to
the “squint-eyed man’s” purpose in taking the
trip they were taking. And Langford, as he
left the train, could not confidently say to himself
that he had detected any suggestion of
interest on their part because of his presence
on the train.
Flamingo Camp Fire rode in an omnibus to
the principal hotel in the town, the Crandell
house, and were assigned to rooms on the second
floor. They had had their supper on the
train and proceeded at once to prepare for a
night’s rest. Still no words were exchanged
among them relative to the purpose of their
visit or the mysterious, squint-eyed passenger
concerning whom all of them felt an irrepressible
curiosity and not a little apprehension.
Miss Ladd occupied a room with Katherine
Crane. After making a general survey of the
floor and noting the location of the rooms of
the other girls, they entered their own apartment
and closed the door. Marie Crismore
and Julietta Hyde occupied the room immediately
south of theirs, but to none of them
had the room immediately north been assigned.
“I wonder if the next room north is occupied,”
Katherine remarked as she took off her
hat and laid it on a shelf in the closet.
“Someone is entering now,” Miss Ladd
// 038.png
.pn +1
whispered, lifting her hand with a warning
for low-toned conversation.
The exchange of a few indistinct words between
two persons could be heard; then one
of them left, and the other was heard moving
about in the room.
“That’s one of the hotel men who just
brought a new guest up,” Katherine remarked.
“And I’m going to find out who it is,” the
Guardian declared in a low tone, turning toward
the door.
“I’ll go with you,” said Katherine, and together
they went down to the office.
They sought the register at once and began
looking over the list of arrivals. Presently
Miss Ladd pointed with her finger the following
registration:
“Pierce Langford, Fairberry, Room 36.”
Miss Ladd and Katherine occupied Room
35.
“Anything you wish, ladies?” asked the proprietor,
who stood behind the desk.
“Yes,” Miss Ladd answered. “We want another
room.”
“I’ll have to give you single rooms, if that
one is not satisfactory,” was the reply. “All
my double rooms are filled.”
“Isn’t 36 a double room?” Katherine inquired.
“Yes, but it’s occupied. I just sent a man
up there.”
“Excuse the question,” Miss Ladd said curiously;
// 039.png
.pn +1
“but why did you put one person in a
double room when it was the only double room
you had and there were vacant single rooms
in the house?”
The hotel keeper smiled pleasantly, as if the
question was the simplest in the world to answer.
“Because he insisted on having it and paid
me double rate in advance,” was the landlord’s
startling reply.
// 040.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-08
CHAPTER VIII||PLANNING IN SECRET.
.sp 2
Without a word of comment relative to
this remarkable information, Miss Ladd
turned and started back upstairs, and Katherine
followed. In the hall at the upper landing,
the Guardian whispered thus in the ear
of her roommate:
“Sh! Don’t say a word or commit an act
that could arouse suspicion. He’s probably
listening, or looking, or both. Just forget this
subject and talk about the new middy-blouse
you are making, or something like that. Don’t
gush, either, or he may suspect your motive.
We want to throw him off the track if possible.”
But Katherine preferred to say little, for
she was tired, and made haste to get into bed.
It was not long before the subject of their
plans and problems and visions of spies and
“jam-stained fists” were lost in the lethe of
dreamland.
They were awakened in the morning by the
first breakfast bell and arose at once. They
dressed hurriedly and went at once to the
dining-room, where they found two of the
girls ahead of them. The others appeared
presently.
As the second bell rang, Pierce Langford
sauntered into the room and took a seat near
// 041.png
.pn +1
the table occupied by Helen Nash and Violet
Munday. He looked about him in a half-vacant
inconsequential way and then began to
“jolly” the waitress, who approached and
sung off a string of alternates on the “Hooverized”
bill of fare which she carried in her
mind. She coldly ignored his “jollies,” for it
was difficult for Langford to be pleasing even
when he tried to be pleasant, took his order,
and proceeded on her way.
The girls paid no further attention to the
supposed spy-lawyer during breakfast, and
the latter appeared to pay no further attention
to them. After the meal, Miss Ladd
called the girls together and suggested that
they take a walk. Then she dismissed them
to prepare. Twenty minutes later they reassembled,
clad in khaki middy suits, brown
sailor hats, and hiking shoes, and the walk
was begun along a path that led down a
wooded hill behind the hotel and toward the
nearest lake.
It was not so much for exercise and fresh
air that this “hike” was taken as for an opportunity
to hold a conference where there was
little likelihood of its being overheard. They
picked a grassy knoll near the lake, shaded by
a border of oak and butternut trees, and sat
down close together in order that they might
carry on a conversation in subdued tones.
“Now,” said Miss Ladd, “we’ll begin to form
our plans. You all realize, I think, that we
have an obstacle to work against that we did
// 042.png
.pn +1
not reckon on when we started. But that
need not surprise us. In fact, as I think matters
over, it would have been surprising if
something of the kind had not occurred. This
man Langford is undoubtedly here to block
our plans. If that is true, in a sense it is an
advantage to us.”
“Why?” Hazel Edwards inquired.
“I don’t like the idea of answering questions
of that kind without giving you girls an
opportunity to answer them,” the Guardian
returned. “Now, who can tell me why it is an
advantage to us to be followed by someone in
the employ of the people whom we have been
sent to investigate.”
“I think I can answer it,” Hazel said quickly,
observing that two or three of the other girls
seemed to have something to say. “Let me
speak first, please. I asked the foolish question
and want a chance to redeem myself.”
“I wouldn’t call it foolish,” was the Guardian’s
reassuring reply. “It was a very natural
question and one that comparatively few
people would be able to answer without considerable
study. And yet, it is simple after
you once get it. But go ahead and redeem
yourself.”
“The fact that someone has been put on our
trail to watch us is pretty good evidence that
something wrong is going on,” said Hazel.
“You warned us not to be sure that anybody
is guilty until we see the jam on his fist. But
we can work more confidently if we are reasonably
// 043.png
.pn +1
certain that there is something to
work for. If this man Langford is in the employ
of the Grahams and is here watching us
for them, we may be reasonably certain that
Aunt Hannah was right in her suspicions
about the way little Glen is being treated, may
we not?”
“That is very good, Hazel,” Miss Ladd commented
enthusiastically. “Many persons a
good deal older than you could not have stated
the situation as clearly as you have stated it.
Yes, I think I may say that I am almost glad
that we are being watched by a spy.
“But I didn’t call you out here to have a
long talk with you, girls. There really isn’t
much to say right now. First I wanted you
all to understand clearly that we are being
watched and for what purpose. Langford
convicted himself when he asked for the double
room next to the one occupied by Katherine
and me and offered to pay the regular rate
for two. He thinks that he is able to maintain
an appearance of utter disinterest in us and
throw us off our guard. But he overdoes the
thing. He makes too big an effort to appear
unconscious of our presence. It doesn’t jibe
at all with the expression of decided interest
I have caught on his face on two or three occasions.
And I flatter myself that I successfully
concealed my interest in his interest in us.
“Now, there are two things I want to say
to you, and we will return. First, do your
best, every one of you, to throw Langford off
// 044.png
.pn +1
the track by affecting the most innocent disinterest
in him as of no more importance to us
than the most obscure tourist on earth. Don’t
overdo it. Just make yourselves think that he
is of no consequence and act accordingly without
putting forth any effort to do so. The
best way to effect this is to forget all about
our mission when he is around.
“Second, we must find out where the Graham
cottage is and then determine where we
want to locate our camp—somewhere in the
vicinity of the Graham cottage, of course.”
“Let me go out on a scouting expedition to
find out where they live,” Katherine requested.
“And let me go with her,” begged Ruth
Hazelton.
“All right,” Miss Ladd assented. “I’ll commission
you two to act as spies to approach
the border of the enemy’s country and make
a map of their fortifications. But whatever
you do, don’t get caught. Keep your heads,
don’t do anything foolish or spasmodic, and
keep this thing well in mind, that it is far better
for you to come back empty handed than
to make them suspicious of any ulterior motive
on your part.”
// 045.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-09
CHAPTER IX||FURTHER PLANS.
.sp 2
“Now, girls,” said Miss Ladd, addressing
Katherine and Hazel, “let me hear what your
plan is, if you have any. If you haven’t any,
we must get busy and work one out, for you
must not start such an enterprise without
having some idea as to how you should go
about it. But I will assume that a suggestion
must have come to you as to how best to get
the first information we want or you would
not have volunteered.”
“Can’t we work out an honor plan as we
decide upon our duties and how we are to
perform them?” Hazel inquired.
“Certainly,” the Guardian replied, “I was
going to suggest that very thing. What would
you propose, Hazel?”
“Well, something like this,” the latter replied:
“that each of us be assigned to some
specific duty to perform in the work before it,
and that we be awarded honors for performing
those duties intelligently and successfully.”
“Very well. I suppose this work you and
Katherine have selected may count toward
the winning of a bead for each of you. But
what will you do after you have finished this
task, which can hardly consume more than a
few hours?”
// 046.png
.pn +1
“Why not make them a permanent squad
of scouts to go out and gather advance information
needed at any time before we can determine
what to do?” Marion Stanlock suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” Miss Ladd replied.
“But it will have to come up at a business
meeting of the Camp Fire in order that honors
may be awarded regularly. Meanwhile I
will appoint you two girls as scouts of the
Fire, and this can be confirmed at the next
business meeting. We will also stipulate the
condition on which honors will be awarded.
But how will you go about to get the information
we now need.”
“First, I would look in the general residence
directory to find out where the Grahams live,”
Katherine replied.
“Yes, that is perhaps the best move to make
first. But the chances are you will get nothing
there. Can you tell me why?”
“Because there are probably few summer
cottages within the city limits,” Hazel volunteered.
“Exactly,” the Guardian agreed. “Well, if
the city directory fails to give you any information,
what would you do next?”
“Consult a telephone directory,” Katherine
said quickly.
“Fine!” Miss Ladd exclaimed. “What
then?”
“They probably have a telephone; wouldn’t
be much society folks if they didn’t,” Katherine
// 047.png
.pn +1
continued; “and there would, no doubt, be
some sort of address for them in the ’phone
book.”
“Yes.”
“And that would give us some sort of guide
for beginning our search. We wouldn’t have
to use the names of the people we are looking
for.”
“That is excellent!” Miss Ladd exclaimed
enthusiastically. “If you two scouts use your
heads as cleverly as that all the time, you
ought to get along fine in your work. But go
on. What next would you do?”
“Go and find out where the people live.
That needn’t be hard. Then we’d look over
the lay of the land to see if there were a good
place near-by for us to pitch our tents.”
“Yes,” put in Hazel; “and if we found a
good place near-by, we’d begin the real work
that we came here to do by going to the Graham
house and asking who owns the land.”
“Fine again,” Miss Ladd said. “I couldn’t do
better myself, maybe not as well. I did think
of going with you on your first trip, but I
guess I’ll leave it all to you. Let’s go back to
the hotel now, and while you two scouts are
gone scouting, the rest of us will find something
to entertain us. Maybe we’ll take a motorboat
ride.”
They started back at once and were soon
at the hotel. Katherine and Hazel decided
that they would not even look for the address
of the Grahams in the directories at the hotel,
// 048.png
.pn +1
but would go to a drug store on the main
business street for this information.
The other girls waited on the hotel portico
while they were away on this mission. They
were gone about twenty minutes and returned
with a supply of picture post-cards to mail to
their friends. On a piece of paper Katherine
had written an address and she showed it to
Miss Ladd. Here is what the latter read:
“Stony Point.”
“That’s about three miles up the lake,”
Hazel said, “We thought we’d hire an automobile
and go up there.”
“Do,” said Miss Ladd approvingly. “And
we’ll take a motorboat and ride up that way
too, if we can get one. Oh, I have the idea
now. We’ll make it a double inspection, part
by land and part from the lake. We’ll meet
you at a landing at Stony Point, if there is
one, and will bring you back in the boat. Now,
you, Katherine and Hazel, wait here while I
go and find a motorboatman and make arrangements
with him.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Violet Munday.
The Guardian and Violet hastened down toward
the main boat landing while the other
twelve girls waited eagerly for a successful
report on this part of the proposed program.
// 049.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-10
CHAPTER X||A TRIP TO STONY POINT.
.sp 2
Miss Ladd and Violet returned in about
twenty minutes and reported that satisfactory
arrangements had been made for a trip
up the lake. They were to start in an hour
and a half.
Then Katherine and Hazel engaged an automobile
for a few hours’ drive and before the
motorboat started with its load of passengers,
they were speeding along a hard macadam
road toward the point around which centered
the interest of their interrupted vacation
plans at Fairberry and their sudden departure
on a very unusual and very romantic journey.
Twin Lakes is a summer-resort town located
on the lower of two bodies of water, similar
in size, configuration, and scenery. The town
has a more or less fixed population of about
2,500, most of whom are retired folk of means
or earn their living directly or indirectly
through the supplying of amusements, comfort,
and sustenance for the thousands of
pleasure and recreation seekers that visit the
place every year.
Each of the lakes is about four miles long
and half as wide. A narrow river, strait, or
rapids nearly a mile long connects the two.
Originally this rapids was impassable by boats
larger than canoes, and even such little craft
// 050.png
.pn +1
were likely to be overturned unless handled
by strong and skillful canoemen; but some
years earlier the state had cleared this passage
by removing numerous great boulders and
shelves of rock from the bed of the stream so
that although the water rushed along just as
swiftly as ever, the passage was nevertheless
safe for all boats of whatever draught that
moved on the two lakes which it connected.
The lower of the twin bodies of water had
been named Twin-One because, perhaps, it
was the first one seen, or more often seen by
those who chose or approved the name; the
other was Twin-Two. Geographically speaking,
it may be, these names should have been
applied vice versa, for Twin-Two was fed first
by a deep and wide river whose source was in
the mountains 200 miles away, and Twin-One
received these waters after they had laved the
shores of Twin-Two.
The road followed by Katherine and Hazel
in their automobile drive to Stony Point was
a well-kept thoroughfare running from the
south end of Twin-One, in gracefully curved
windings along the east border of the lake,
sometimes over a small stretch of rough or
hilly shoreland, but usually through heavy
growths of hemlock, white pine, oak, and
other trees more or less characteristic of the
country. Here and there along the way was
a cottage, or summer house of more pretentious
proportions, usually constructed near
the water or some distance up on the side of
// 051.png
.pn +1
the hill-shore, with a kind of terrace-walk
leading down to a boat landing.
The trip was quickly made. Stony Point
the girls found to be a picturesque spot not at
all devoid of the verdant beauties of nature in
spite of the fact that, geographically, it was
well named. This name was due principally
to a rock-formed promontory, jutting out into
the lake at this point and seeming to be bedded
deep into the lofty shore-elevation. Right
here was a cluster of cottages, not at all huddled
together, but none the less a cluster if
viewed from a distance upon the lake, and in
this group of summer residences appeared to
be almost sufficient excuse for the drawing
up of a petition for incorporation as a village.
But very few of the owners of these houses
lived in them during the winter months. The
main and centrally located group consisted of
a hotel and a dozen or more cottages, known
as “The Hemlocks,” and so advertised in the
outing and vacation columns of newspapers
of various cities.
On arriving at “the Point,” Katherine and
Hazel paid the chauffeur and informed him
they would not need his machine any more
that day. Then they began to look about
them.
They were rather disappointed and decidedly
puzzled at what they saw. Evidently
they had a considerable search before them to
discover the location of the Graham cottage
without making open inquiry as to where it
// 052.png
.pn +1
stood. First they walked out upon the promontory,
which had a flat table-like surface
and was well suited for the arousing of the
curiosity of tourists. There they had a good
view up and down the bluff-jagged, hilly and
tree-laden coast.
“It’s 11 o’clock now,” said Hazel, looking at
her wrist-watch. “The motorboat will be here
at about 1 o’clock, and we have two hours
in which to get the information we are after
unless we want to share honors for success
with the other girls when they arrive.”
“Let’s take a walk through this place and
see what we can see,” Katherine suggested.
“The road we came along runs through it and
undoubtedly there are numerous paths.”
This seemed to be the best thing to do, and
the two girls started from the Point toward
the macadam highway. The latter was soon
reached and they continued along this road
northward from the place where they dismissed
the automobile. Half a mile they traveled
in this direction, their course keeping
well along the lake shore. They passed several
cottages of designedly rustic appearance
and buried, as it were, amid a wealth of tree
foliage and wild entanglements of shrubbery.
Suddenly Katherine caught hold of Hazel’s
arm and held her back.
“Did you hear that?” she inquired.
“Yes, I did,” Hazel replied, “It sounded like
a child’s voice, crying.”
// 053.png
.pn +1
“And not very far away, either. Listen;
there it is again.”
It was a half-smothered sob that reached
their ears and seemed to come from a clump
of bushes to the left of the road not more than
a dozen yards away. Both girls started for
the spot, circling around the bushes and peering
carefully, cautiously ahead of them as
they advanced. The subdued sobs continued
and led the girls directly to the spot whence
they came.
Presently they found themselves standing
over the form of a little boy, his frightened,
tear-stained face turned up toward them
while he shrank back into the bushes as if
fearing the approach of a fellow human being.
// 054.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-11
CHAPTER XI||MISS PERFUME INTERFERES.
.sp 2
The little fellow retreated into the bushes
as far as he could get and crouched there in
manifest terror. Katherine and Hazel spoke
gently, sympathetically to him, but with no
result, at first, except to frighten him still
more, if possible.
“Don’t be afraid, little boy,” Hazel said,
reaching out her hands toward him. “We
won’t hurt you.”
But he only shrank back farther, putting up
his hands before his face and crying, “Don’t,
don’t!”
“What can be the matter with him?” said
Hazel. “He doesn’t seem to be demented.
He’s really afraid of something.”
Katherine looked all around carefully
through the trees and into the neighboring
bushes.
“I can’t imagine what it can be,” she replied.
“There’s nothing in sight that could do
him any harm. But, do you know, Hazel, I
have an idea that may be worth considering.
Suppose this should prove to be the little boy
for whom we are looking.”
“That could hardly be,” Hazel answered
dubiously. “Look at his threadbare clothes,
and how unkempt and neglected he appears to
be. He surely doesn’t look like a boy for
whose care $250 is paid every month.”
// 055.png
.pn +1
“Don’t forget what it was that sent us
here,” Katherine reminded. “Isn’t it just possible
that this little boy’s fright is proof of
the very condition we came here to expose?”
“Yes, it’s possible,” Hazel replied thoughtfully.
“At least, we ought not neglect to find
out what this means.”
Then turning again to the crouching figure
in the bushes, she said:
“What is your name, little boy? Is it
Glen?”
At the utterance of this name, the youth
shook as with ague.
“Look out, Hazel; he’ll have a spasm,”
Katherine cautioned. “He thinks we are not
his friends and are going to do something he
doesn’t want us to do. Let me talk to him:
“Listen, little boy,” she continued, addressing
the pitiful crouching figure. “We’re not
going to hurt you. We’ll do just what you
want us to do. We’ll take you where you want
to go. Will that be all right?”
A relaxing of the tense attitude of the boy
indicated that he was somewhat reassured by
these words. His fists went suddenly to his
eyes and he began to sob hysterically. Hazel
moved toward him with more sympathetic reassurance,
when there was an interruption of
proceedings from a new source.
A girl about 18 years old stepped up in front
of the two Camp Fire Girls and reached forward
as if to seize the juvenile refugee with
both hands. She was rather ultra-stylishly
// 056.png
.pn +1
clad for a negligee, summer-resort community,
wearing a pleated taffeta skirt and
Georgette crepe waist and a white sailor hat
of expensive straw with a bright blue ribbon
around the crown. Hazel afterwards remarked
that “her face was as cold as an iceberg
and the odor of perfume about her was
enough to asphyxiate a field of phlox and
shooting-stars.”
The boy ceased sobbing as he beheld this
new arrival and his face became white with
fear, while he shrank back again into the
bushes as far as he could get. The girl of
much perfume and stylish attire seemed to be
unmoved by the new panic that seized him, but
took hold of him and dragged him roughly
out of his hiding place.
“Oh, do be careful,” pleaded Hazel. “Don’t
you see he’s scared nearly to death? You may
throw him into a spasm.”
“Is that any of your business?” the captor
of the frightened youth snapped, looking defiantly
at the one who addressed her. “He’s
my brother, and I guess I can take him back
home without any interference from a perfect
stranger. He’s run away.”
“I beg your pardon,” Hazel said gently;
“but it didn’t seem to me to be an ordinary
case of fright. I didn’t mean to intrude, but
he’s such a dear little boy I couldn’t help being
sympathetic.”
“He’s a naughty bad runaway and ought to
be whipped,” the girl with the cold face returned
// 057.png
.pn +1
as she started along a path through
the timber, dragging the little fellow after
her.
“Isn’t that a shame!” Hazel muttered, digging
her fingernails into the palms of her
hands. “My, but I just like to——”
She stopped for want of words to express
her feelings not too riotously, and Katherine
came to her relief by swinging the subject
along a different track.
“Do you really believe that boy is Glen Irving?”
she inquired.
“No, I suppose not,” Hazel answered dejectedly.
“You heard that girl say he was her
brother, didn’t you? Well, Glen has no sister.
But, do you know, I really am disappointed
to find that he isn’t the boy we are
looking for, for my heart went right out to
him when I first saw his crouching form and
white face. Moreover, I can hardly bear the
thought of leaving him in the hands of that
frosted bottle of cheap Cologne.”
Katherine laughed at the figure.
“You’ve painted her picture right,” she said
warmly. “Come on, let’s follow her. We have
as much right to go that way as she has, and
we must go someway anyway.”
“All right; lead the way,” Hazel said with
smiling emphasis on the “way” to direct attention
to Katherine’s phonetic repetition.
The latter started along the path that had
been taken by the girl and her frightened
prisoner, and Hazel followed. The two in advance
// 058.png
.pn +1
were by this time out of sight beyond
a thicket of bushes and small trees, but Katherine
and Hazel did not hasten their steps,
as they preferred to trust to the path to guide
their steps rather than the view of the persons
they sought to follow. In fact, they preferred
to trust to the element of chance
rather than run a risk of arousing the suspicion
of the cold-faced girl with the perfume.
Only once did they catch sight of the boy
and his captor in the course of their hesitating
pursuit, and this view was so satisfactory
that they stopped short in order to avoid possible
detection if the girl should look back. A
turn in the path brought them to the hip of
the elevation where the ground began to slope
down to the lake and near the downward bend
of this beach-hill was a rustic cottage, with
an equally rustic garage to the rear and on
one side a cleared space for a tennis court.
At the door of the cottage was the girl with
the pleated skirt and white sailor hat, still
leading the now submissive but quivering
youth.
“Fine!” Katherine exclaimed under her
breath. “Things have turned out just right.
If that should prove to be the Graham home
we couldn’t wish for better luck. Come on;
let’s back through the timber and approach
this place from another direction. They
mustn’t suspect that we followed that girl and
the little boy.”
// 059.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-12
CHAPTER XII||THE MAN IN THE AUTO.
.sp 2
Cautiously Katherine and Hazel withdrew
from the path into a thicket and thence retreated
along the path by which they had approached
the house. They continued their
retreat to the point where the path joined
the automobile road and where grew the
thicket within which they had discovered the
frightened runaway child.
“Now, I tell you what we ought to do,”
Katherine said. “We ought to follow this
road about a mile, maybe, to get a view of
lay of the land and then return to this spot,
or near it. We can get the information we
want after we learn more of the camping possibilities
of this neighborhood and can talk
intelligently when we begin to make inquiries.”
“And when we get back,” Hazel added,
“we’ll go to some neighboring house and ask
all about who lives here and who lives there,
and, of course, we’ll be particular to ask the
name of the family where that icy bottle of
perfume lives.”
“That’s the very idea,” Katherine agreed
enthusiastically. “But we haven’t any time
to waste, for it is nearly 12 o’clock now, and
we have only a little more than an hour to
work in if the motorboat arrives on time.
// 060.png
.pn +1
We’d better not try to walk a mile—half a
mile will be enough, maybe a quarter—just
enough to enable us to talk intelligently about
the lay of the land right around here.”
They walked north along the road nearly
half a mile, found a path which led directly
toward the lake, followed it until within view
of the water’s edge, satisfied themselves that
there were several excellent camping places
along the shore in this vicinity and then started
back. They had passed three or four cottages
on their way and at one of these they
stopped to make inquiries as planned.
A pleasant-faced woman in comfortable domestic
attire met them at the door and answered
their questions with a readiness that
bespoke familiarity with the neighborhood
and acquaintance with her neighbors. Katherine
and Hazel experienced no slight difficulty
in concealing their eager satisfaction
when Mrs. Scott, the woman they were questioning,
said:
“The people who have the cottage just north
of us are the Pruitts of Wilmington, those just
south of us are the Ertsmans of Richmond,
and those just south of the Ertsmans are the
Grahams of Baltimore, I think. I am not very
well acquainted with that family. I am sure
we would be delighted to have a group of
Camp Fire Girls near us and you ought to
have no difficulty in getting permission to
pitch your tents. This land along here belongs
to an estate which is managed by a man
// 061.png
.pn +1
living in Philadelphia. He is represented here
by a real estate man, Mr. Ferris, of Twin
Lakes. He probably will permit you to camp
here for little or nothing.”
The girls thanked the woman warmly for
this information and then hurried away.
“We don’t need to call at the Graham cottage
now,” Hazel said as they hastened back
to the road. “We have all the preliminary
information that we want. The next thing
for us to do is to get back to the Point and
meet the boat when it comes in and have a
talk with the other girls. I suppose our first
move then ought to be to go to Twin Lakes
and get permission from that real estate man,
Ferris, to pitch our tents on the land he has
charge of.”
The two girls kept up their rapid walk until
within a few hundred feet of the drive that
led from the main road to the cottage occupied
by the Grahams. Then they slowed up a
little as they saw an automobile approaching
ahead of them. The machine also slowed up
somewhat as it neared the drive. Suddenly
Hazel exclaimed, half under her breath:
“It’s going to stop. I wonder what for?”
“Yes, and there’s something familiar in that
man’s appearance,” Katherine said slowly.
“Why——”
She did not finish the sentence, for the automobile
was so near she was afraid the driver
would hear her. But there was no need for
her to say what she had in her mind to say.
// 062.png
.pn +1
Hazel recognized the man as soon as she did.
“Be careful,” Katherine warned. “Don’t
let him see that we know him. Just pass him
as you would a perfect stranger.”
But they did not pass the automobile as expected.
Although slowing up, the machine
did not stop, and for the first time the girls
realised the probable nature of the man’s visit
to Stony Point.
“O Hazel!” Katherine whispered; “he’s
turning in at the Graham place.”
“I bet he’s come here to warn them against
us,” Hazel returned.
“It must be something of the kind,” Katherine
agreed, and then the near approach to
the automobile rendered unwise any further
conversation on the subject.
The girls were within 100 feet of the machine
as it turned in on the Graham drive and
found that they had all they could do to preserve
a calm and unperturbed demeanor as
they met the keen searching gaze of the squint
eyes of Pierce Langford, the lawyer from
Fairberry.
// 063.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-13
CHAPTER XIII. ||A NONSENSE PLOT.
Katherine and Hazel walked past the drive,
into which Attorney Langford’s automobile
had turned, apparently without any concern
or interest in the occupant of the machine.
But after they had advanced forty or fifty
yards beyond the drive, Hazel’s curiosity got
the best of her and she turned her head and
looked back. The impulse to do this was so
strong, she said afterward, that it seemed impossible
for her to control the action. Her
glance met the gaze of the squint eyes of the
man in the auto.
“My! that was a foolish thing for me to do,”
she said as she quickly faced ahead again. “I
suppose that look has done more damage than
anything else since we started from Fairberry.
And to think that I above all others
should have been the one to do it. I’m
ashamed of myself.”
“Did he see you?” Katherine inquired.
“He was looking right at me,” Hazel replied;
“and that look was full of suspicion and
meaning. There’s no doubt he’s on our trail
and suspects something of the nature of our
mission.”
“Oh don’t let that bother you,” Katherine
advised. “There’s no reason why he should
jump to a conclusion just because you looked
back at him. That needn’t necessarily mean
// 064.png
.pn +1
anything. But if you let it make you uneasy,
you may give us dead away the next time you
meet him.”
“I believe he knows what our mission here
is already,” was Katherine’s fatalistic answer.
“If that’s the case, you needn’t worry any
more about what you do or say in his presence,”
said Hazel. “We might as well go to
him and tell him our story and have it all over
with.”
“I don’t agree with you,” Katherine replied.
“I believe that the worst chance we have to
work against is the probability of suspicion on
his part. I don’t see how he can know anything
positively. He probably merely learned
of our intended departure for Twin Lakes
and, knowing that the Grahams were spending
the summer here, began to put two and
two together. I figure that he followed us on
his own responsibility.”
“And that his visit at the Graham cottage
today is to give them warning of our coming,”
Hazel added.
“Yes, very likely,” Katherine agreed. “I’d
like to hear the conversation that is about to
take place in that house. I bet it would be
very interesting to us.”
“No doubt of it,” said the other; “and it
might prove helpful to us in our search for
the information we were sent to get.”
“Don’t you think it strange, Hazel, that
your aunt should select a bunch of girls like
us to do so important a piece of work as this?”
// 065.png
.pn +1
Katherine inquired. This question had puzzled
her a good deal from the moment the
proposition had been put to her. Although
she had received it originally from Mrs.
Hutchins even before the matter had been
broached to Hazel, she had not questioned the
wisdom of the move, but had accepted the role
of advocate assigned to her as if the proceeding
were very ordinary and commonsensible.
“If you hadn’t restricted your remark to ‘a
bunch of girls like us’, I would answer ‘yes’,”
Hazel replied; “I’d say that it was very
strange for Aunt Hannah to select a ‘bunch
of girls’ to do so important a piece of work as
this. But when you speak of the ‘bunch’ as a
‘bunch of girls like us,’ I reply ‘No, it wasn’t
strange at all’.”
“I’m afraid you’re getting conceited,
Hazel,” Katherine protested gently. “I know
you did some remarkable work when you
found your aunt’s missing papers, but you
shouldn’t pat yourself on the back with such
a resounding slap.”
“I wasn’t referring to myself particularly,”
Hazel replied with a smile suggestive of
“something more coming.” “I was referring
principally to my very estimable Camp Fire
chums, and of course it would look foolish for
me to attempt to leave myself out of the compliment.
I suppose I shall have to admit that
I am a very classy girl, because if I weren’t, I
couldn’t be associated with such a classy
bunch—see? Either I have to be classy or
// 066.png
.pn +1
accuse you other girls of being common like
myself.”
“I’m quite content to be called common,”
said Katherine.
“But I don’t think you are common, and
that’s where the difficulty comes in.”
“Won’t you be generous and call me classy,
and I’ll admit I’m classy to keep company with
my classy associates, and you can do likewise
and we can all be an uncommonly classy bunch
of common folks.”
“If we could be talking a string of nonsense
like this every time we meet Mr. Langford, we
could throw him off the track as easy as scat,”
said Hazel meditatively. “What do you say,
Katherine?—let’s try it the next time he’s
around: We’ll be regular imp—, inp—What’s
the word—impromptu actors.”
“We mustn’t overdo it,” Katherine cautioned.
“Of course not. Why should we? We’ll do
just as we did this time—let one idea lead on
to another in easy, rapid succession. Think
it over and whenever you get an idea pass it
around, and we’ll be all primed for him. It’ll
be lots of fun if we get him guessing, and be
to our advantage, too.”
Hazel and Katherine reached the Point in
time to see the motorboat containing the
other members of the Fire approaching about
a mile away. They did not know, of course,
who were in the boat, and as it was deemed
wise not to indulge in any demonstrations, no
// 067.png
.pn +1
one on either side did any signalling; but they
were not long in doubt as to who the passengers
were. A flight of steps led from the top
of the point to the landing, and the two advance
spies, as they were now quite content
to be called, walked down these and were
waiting at the water’s edge when the boat ran
along the pile-supported platform.
// 068.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-14
CHAPTER XIV. || SPARRING FOR A FEE.
Pierce Langford drove the automobile, in
which he made his first trip to Stony Point, up
to the end of his drive near the Graham cottage,
and advanced to the front entrance. The
porch on which he stood awaiting the appearance
of someone to answer his knock—there
was no bell at the door—was bordered with
a railing of rough-hewn, but uniformly selected,
limbs of hard wood or saplings. The
main structure of the house was of yellow
pine, but the outer trimmings were mainly of
such rustic material as the railing of the
porch.
The front door was open, giving the visitor
a fairly good view of the interior. The front
room was large and fairly well furnished with
light inexpensive furniture, grass rugs and
an assortment of nondescript, “catch-as-catch-can,”
but not unattractive, art upon the
walls. Langford, who was not a sleepy
schemer, was able to get a good view of the
room before any one appeared to answer his
knock.
It was a woman who appeared, a sharp featured,
well-dressed matron with a challenging
eye. Perhaps no stranger, or person out of
the exclusive circle that she assumed to represent,
ever approached her without being met
// 069.png
.pn +1
with the ocular demand. “Who are you?”
Pierce Langford recognized this demand at
once. If he had been of less indolent character
this unscrupulous attorney might have
made a brilliant success as a criminal lawyer
in a metropolis. The fact that he was content
with the limitations of a practice in a city of
3,500 inhabitants, Fairberry, his home town,
was of itself indicative of his indolence. And
yet, when he took a case, he manifested gifts
of shrewdness that would have made many
another lawyer of much greater practice jealous.
Attorney Langford’s shrewdness and indolence
were alternately intermittent. When
the nerve centers of his shrewdness were
stimulated his indolence lapsed and he was
very much on the alert. The present was one
of those instances. He knew something, by
reputation, of the woman who confronted him.
He had had indirect dealing with her before,
but he had never met her. However, he was
certain that she would recognize his name.
“Is this Mrs. Graham?” he inquired, although
he scarcely needed to ask the question.
“It is,” she replied with evidently habitual
precision.
“My name is Langford—Pierce Langford,”
he announced, and then waited for the effect
of this limited information.
The woman started. It was a startled start.
The challenge of her countenance wavered;
// 070.png
.pn +1
the precision of her manner became an attitude
of caution.
“Not—not Pierce Langford of—of—?” she
began.
The man smiled on one side of his mouth.
“The very one, none other,” he answered
cunningly. “Not to be in the least obscure, I
am from the pretty, quiet and somewhat
sequestered city of Fairberry. You know the
place, I believe.”
“I’ve never been there and hope I shall never
have occasion to go to your diminutive metropolis,”
she returned rather savagely.
“No?” the visitor commented with a rising
inflection for rhetorical effect. “By the way,
may I come in?”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Graham answered recovering
quickly from a partial lapse of mindfulness
of the situation.
The woman turned and led the way into the
house and the visitor followed. Mrs. Graham
directed the lawyer to a reed rocking chair
and herself sat down on another reed-rest of
the armchair variety. The woman by this
time had recovered something of her former
challenging attitude and inquired:
“Well, Mr. Langford, what is the meaning
of this visit?”
“Very much meaning, Mrs. Graham,” was
the reply; “and of very much significance to
you, I suspect. I come here well primed with
information which I am sure will cause you to
// 071.png
.pn +1
welcome me as you perhaps would welcome
nobody else in the world.”
Mrs. Graham leaned forward eagerly, expectantly,
apprehensively.
“You come as a friend, I assume,” she said.
“Have you any reason to doubt it?” the man
inquired. “If it were otherwise, I must necessarily
come as a traitor. I hope you will not
entertain any such opinion of me as that. As
long as you treat me fairly, you’ll find me
absolutely on the square for you and your interests.”
“I hope so,” returned the woman in a tone
of voice that could hardly be said to convey
any significance other than the dictionary
meaning of the words. “But let’s get down to
business. What is this information that you
come here primed with? Has it to do with the
old subject?”
“Certainly, very intimately, and with nothing
else.”
“In what way?” Mrs. Graham asked with
more eagerness than she intended to disclose.
“Well, there are some spies in this neck of
the woods.”
“Spies!” the woman exclaimed, betraying
still more of the eagerness she was still struggling
against.
“Yes spies. That’s exactly what they call
themselves.”
“Who are they?—how do you know they
are here to spy on me?”
“I overheard their plans. I got wind in a
// 072.png
.pn +1
roundabout way, as a result of talk on the
part of Mrs. Hutchins’ servants, that there
was something doing, with Twin Lakes as a
central point of interest. I suspected at once
that your interests were involved; so I stole
slyly, Willie Hawkshaw-like, up to their rendezvous
one night and listened to some of
them as they discussed their plans and—”
“Some of them,” Mrs. Graham interrupted,
“How many are there?”
“Oh, a whole troup of them.”
“That’s a funny story,” the woman commented
dubiously, searching the face of her
visitor for an explanation of his, to her, queer
statements.
“Not at all so funny when you hear it in
detail,” Langford returned quietly.
“Well hurry up with the details,” the impatient
Mrs. Graham demanded.
“There’s no need of being in a hurry,” the
lawyer said with provoking calmness. “Business
is business, you see, and full confidences
should never be exchanged in a situation of
this kind until a contract is drawn up, signed,
sealed, witnessed, and recorded. In other
words, I ought to have an understanding and
a retainer before I go any farther.”
Mrs. Graham had no reason to doubt that
this was coming sooner or later, but she
winced nevertheless when it came.
// 073.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-15
CHAPTER XV. ||LANGFORD GETS A CHECK.
“I hope you realize, Mr. Langford, that we
are not exactly made of money,” Mrs. Graham
remarked tentatively by way of meeting the
demand which she read between his words.
“Moreover, we were under heavy expenses during
the last year and you got a good deal of
what we paid out.”
“Not so very much,” Langford corrected,
from his point of view. “You must remember
that I was working for you through another
man and he handled the pay roll, on which he
and I were the only payees, and naturally he
took what he didn’t absolutely have to give to
me.”
“Well, how much do you want for this service?”
the woman inquired.
“I ought to have at least $25 a day and my
expenses,” the lawyer answered.
“Absolutely out of the question. That’s
several times the amount of our income from
the source you are interested in. And a considerable
part of that has to go for the boy’s
clothing, board and education.”
“That is one of the important points to
which I am coming,” Langford interrupted.
“I come to inform you that Mrs. Hutchins is
very much interested in how the boy is being
clothed and fed and educated, and also how he
// 074.png
.pn +1
is being treated, and she has decided to find
those things out.”
“It’s a case of her old suspicions being revived?”
Mrs. Graham asked.
“I suppose so; anyway, she’s mighty suspicious.”
“Who’s been peddling stories to her?”
“That’s something I didn’t find out.”
“Don’t you think a $25-a-day man ought to
find out?”
“Perhaps; and perhaps I could have discovered
that very thing if I had thought it wise
to spend the time on it. After the mischief
was done, it seemed hardly worth while to expend
any effort to find the mischief maker. I
decided it was best to get after the mischief
itself and stop it.”
“I suppose you’re right,” assented Mrs. Graham.
“But it really would be a lot of satisfaction
to know who the traitor is.”
“This is no time to waste any of your efforts
on revenge. That may come later, not now.
But how about my fee?”
“You ask too much.”
“I don’t agree with you, That is a very
small fee, compared with what some attorneys
get. Why, I know lawyers who never take a
case under $100 a day.”
“That’s in the big cities, where they are under
heavy expenses—costly offices and office
help.”
“Where do you get your information?”
“Oh, I have traveled and lived,” the woman
// 075.png
.pn +1
replied with emphasis on the last word. “And
I know there are plenty of judges who get
only $10 a day, some less. Now, what do you
think of that? Do you think you ought to
get more than a judge?”
“Oh, fudge on the judges,” Langford exclaimed
in affected disgust. “No big lawyer
will take one of those political jobs. There
are lots of big lawyers making $50,000 or
$100,000 a year, and there are few judges getting
more than $10,000.”
“Well, I can’t pay more than $10 a day, and
I can’t pay that very long. We’re under
heavy expenses here and in Baltimore.”
“You ought to economize, Mrs. Graham,”
Langford advised. “Remember, this special
income can’t last forever. The boy is past 10
years old now, and if nobody takes it away
from you earlier, it will stop when he is 21.”
“Take it away!” Mrs. Graham exclaimed in
a startled manner, indicating that her apprehension
had not carried her imagination as
far as this.
“Sure—why not?” the lawyer returned.
“What do you think all this talk about spies
has been leading up to?—a Christmas present?
If Mrs. Hutchins is suspicious enough
to send a lot of spies here to get the goods on
you, don’t you think she has some notion of
taking some sort of drastic action?”
“What kind of ‘goods’ does she expect to
get on me?” the woman inquired.
“Can’t you guess?”
// 076.png
.pn +1
“I can’t imagine, dream, or suspect.”
“Just hurry things along to an agreement
tween you and me, and I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll give you $10 a day and reasonable expenses.
That doesn’t include your board;
only your carfare and such incidentals when
you’re away from home. That is all conditioned,
of course, on your proving to my satisfaction
that you have the information you
say you have. There’s no use of my fighting
for this income if I have to pay it all out without
getting my benefit from it.”
“I’ll try not to be so hard on you as all that,”
Langford reassured the woman. “I accept
your offer, although it’s the minimum I would
consider. I suppose you are prepared to give
me a check today?”
“Yes, I can give you something—your expenses
thus far and maybe a little besides.
Now hurry up and tell your story.”
“I can do it in a few words. Mrs. Hutchins
has sent a dozen or more girls up here to find
out how you treat the youngster and if he is
well fed, clothed and educated. She’s received
word from some source to the contrary and
is planning to take him away if she discovers
that her suspicions are true. These spies are
all Camp Fire Girls who were camping on her
farm. One of them is her niece. The proof
of my statement that they are here to spy on
you is in their plan to camp near your cottage
and cultivate an intimate acquaintance with
your family, particularly your two daughters.
// 077.png
.pn +1
Two of them were up here looking over the
lay of the ground; maybe they’re here yet.
Undoubtedly you’ll see something of them
tomorrow or the next day.”
Mrs. Graham’s eyes flashed dangerously.
Langford saw the menace in her look and manner.
“As I am now in your employ as counsel,”
he said, “I’ll begin giving advice at once. Cut
out this hate business. It’s your worst enemy.
Just be all smiles and dimples and give them
the sweetest con game welcome imaginable.
Pretend to be delighted to meet the bunch of
Camp Fire Girls. Tell them you had long held
their organization in the highest esteem. Take
your two daughters into your fullest confidence.
Tell them they must play their part, too, and
play it well. They must be eager to become
Camp Fire Girls and seek to be chummy with
the spies.
“And as for the boy, in whom they are
specially interested, you must treat him as if
you regard him the dearest little darling on
earth.” (Mrs. Graham’s face soured at this
suggestion,) “No, none of that, or you’ll spoil
the whole game. Mrs. Hutchins means business,
and all she needs to do is to prove a few
acts of cruelty and neglect, and any court in
the land will give her speedy custody of the
child, in view of the provisions of his father’s
will, which, you know, are very exacting of
you and very friendly toward Mrs. Hutchins
and her late husband. By the way, where are
// 078.png
.pn +1
the child and the other members of your family?”
“My husband is in Baltimore working at his
regular employment,” Mrs. Graham answered.
“I expect him here next week; his vacation
begins then. My son, James, Jr., went up the
lakes this morning with some friends of his.
Addie, my oldest daughter, went to Twin
Lakes to do some shopping, and the other girl,
Olga, is in the next room with Glen.”
“By the way, Mrs. Graham, how well is
the boy supplied with clothing?” Langford inquired.
“He has some good suits,” Mrs. Graham replied
slowly as if going over Glen’s wardrobe
piece by piece, in her mind.
“Dress him up in his best and get some more
for special occasions. You might be working
on some article of clothing for him also. That
would indicate strongly that you are interested
in his welfare.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I will take my
check and go. I’ll be back again, but don’t
think it advisable to come often. I have prepared
a short telephone cipher code by which
we can carry on a commonplace conversation
over the wire and let each other know if all
is well or if trouble is brewing or has already
broken. Here is a copy of it.”
Mrs. Graham wrote the lawyer a check for
$35, and he arose to depart.
“Remember,” he said as he stood facing the
woman schemer at the doorway; “the success
// 079.png
.pn +1
of this little plan of ours rests in the ability
of yourself and other members of the family
to play the most spontaneously genteel game
the cleverest persons ever planned. If you
fall down on this, undoubtedly you’ll lose your
handsome side-issue income of $3,500 a year.”
Then he went out, cranked his rented automobile,
and drove away.
// 080.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-16
CHAPTER XVI||LANGFORD CHECKS UP.
.sp 2
The twelve girls in the boat landed and proceeded
with Katherine and Hazel up the steps
to the top of the Point, where a conference
was held. The two advance scouts reported
developments in detail, much to the interest
and delight of the other girls. The progress
made thus far was so encouraging that everybody
showed a disposition of impatience at the
first sign of inactivity.
“We must go right back and get permission
from Mr. Ferris to locate our camp somewhere
near the Graham home,” said Katherine. “We
ought to get our tents pitched just as soon as
possible, and we mustn’t run any risk of not
being able to find Mr. Ferris today.”
“Don’t you think it would help to allay their
suspicions if we all remained here a while and
looked around as if interested in the scenery
just as tourists?” Azalia Atwood suggested
“No, I don’t,” Katherine replied quickly.
“Either that man Langford suspects us or he
doesn’t. If he suspects us, he has grounds for
his suspicion, and any such attempt to throw
him off the track would result in failure. I
think we had better assume that he knows
what we are up to and act accordingly, without
appearing to admit it.”
“But won’t they try to cover up the evidence
that we are after?” Julietta Hyde reasoned.
// 081.png
.pn +1
“Of course they will,” Katherine answered.
“That will be one of the most interesting
features of this adventure,” said Helen Nash,
who already had a reputation wider than the
Camp Fire circle for natural shrewdness.
“When they begin to do that, we’ll have some
great fun.”
“Can’t you point out from the lake the place
or places where you think it would be well for
us to locate our camp?” Miss Ladd inquired,
addressing Hazel and Katherine.
“You can get a pretty good view of it right
from here,” Hazel replied. “It’s right up the
shore between those two cottages which are
about the same distance up from the water
and have similar paths and flights of steps
running down to their boat landings. Between
those two places is a stretch of timber-land
that doesn’t seem to be used by anybody
in particular. We didn’t explore it because we
didn’t have time, but it surely must contain
some good camping places. We saw several
small open spots near the road that could be
used if nothing better is found. We must
make a thorough inspection, of course, before
we select a site, but that won’t take long and
can be done when we bring our outfit up here.”
“We ought to take a run in the boat along
the shore and see if we can’t find a good landing
place,” Katherine suggested. “Wouldn’t
it be delightful if we could find a suitable place
on the side of that hill and overlooking the
lake? Let’s take enough time for that.”
// 082.png
.pn +1
“It’s a good idea,” said Miss Ladd warmly.
“Let’s do that at once and then run back to
Twin Lakes. But remember, girls, don’t say
anything about our mission on the boat. The
boatman would be sure to start some gossip
that probably would reach the ears of the very
persons we want to keep in the dark as much
as possible.”
They were soon back in the large canopied
motorboat, and Miss Ladd gave instructions
to the pilot. The latter cranked his engine,
took his place at the wheel, and backed the
vessel away from the landing. A few moments
later the “Big Twin,” as the owner
facetiously named the boat to distinguish it
from a smaller one which he called the “Little
Twin,” was dashing along the wooded hill-shore
which extended nearly a mile to the
north from Stony Point. They obtained a
good view of the section of the shore just
north of the Graham cottage and picked out
several spots which appeared from the distance
viewed to be very good camping sites.
Then the prow of the boat was turned to the
south and they cut along at full speed toward
Twin Lakes.
The run was quickly made, and Katherine
and Hazel hastened at once to the Ferris real
estate office and presented their petition to
Mr. Ferris in person. The latter was much
interested when he learned that a Fire of
Camp Fire Girls desired permission to pitch
their tents on land of which he was the local
// 083.png
.pn +1
agent, and still more interested when informed
that they were students at Hiawatha
Institute whose reputation was well known
to him. He gave them a pen-and-ink drawing
of the vicinity, indicating the approximate
lines of the lands owned or leased by cottagers
then in possession, and granted them permission,
free of charge, to locate their camp at any
place they desired so long as they did not encroach
on the rights of others.
An hour later the squint-eyed man whose
activities have already created much of interest
in this narrative entered the office of Mr.
Ferris and inquired:
“Are you agent for that land along the lake
just north of Stony Point?”
“I am,” the real estate man replied.
“Do you allow campers to pitch their tents
on the land for a week or two at a time?”
“I don’t object if they are all right. I always
require some sort of credentials. I wouldn’t
allow strangers to squat there without giving
me some kind of notice. I granted permission
to a bunch of Camp Fire Girls today to pitch
their tents there.”
“Is that so? Where are they going to locate?”
“Just beyond the Graham cottage, if you
know where that is.”
“That is where some friends of mine would
like to camp,” said Langford in an affected
tone of disappointment.
“I don’t think I’d care to grant any more
// 084.png
.pn +1
permits in that vicinity,” Mr. Ferris announced
rather meditatively. “I feel rather a
personal interest in the girls and don’t want
any strangers to pitch a camp too near them.
Your friends might, perhaps, locate half a
mile farther up the shore.”
“I’ll tell them what you say,” Langford said
as he left the office.
Five minutes later he was in a telephone
booth calling for No. 123-M. A woman answered
the ring.
“Is this Mrs. Graham?” he inquired.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“This is Langford. I just called to inform
you that the parties we were talking about
have obtained permission to camp near your
cottage. You’ll probably see something of
them tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’ll be at your place tomorrow afternoon
between 3 and 4 o’clock.”
“I’ll expect you.”
That ended the conversation.
// 085.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-17
CHAPTER XVII||A DAY OF HARD WORK.
.sp 2
That evening Miss Ladd received the letter
that Mrs. Hutchins had announced in her telegram
addressed to the Guardian on the train,
would follow that communication. She did
not discuss the matter with any of the girls,
but quietly passed it around until all had read
it.
In her letter Mrs. Hutchins stated little that
had not been read between the lines of the telegram,
although her views and comments on
the circumstances were interesting. She had
seen Pierce Langford arrive at the station just
as the train was pulling in, buy a ticket and
board the train just as it was pulling out.
Curiosity, stirred perhaps by the recollection
that this man had recently represented interests
hostile to the mission of the Thirteen
Camp Fire Girls and their Guardian, and
might still represent those interests, caused
her to inquire of the agent for what point Mr.
Langford had purchased his ticket. The reply
was “Twin Lakes.”
That was sufficient. The woman asked for
a telegram pad and wrote a few lines. Then
she gave the message to the operator with
these directions:
“I want that to catch Miss Ladd in the limited
as soon as possible. Keep it going from
// 086.png
.pn +1
station to station until it is delivered. Have
the operator who succeeds in getting the message
into Miss Ladd’s hands wire back ‘delivered’
as soon as she receives it.”
On the day following the advance excursion
and inspection of the camping prospects at
Stony Point, the “Big Twin” was engaged
again to convey the Camp Fire Girls to the
prospective camping place. On this occasion
the tents and other paraphernalia were taken
aboard and conveyed to the scene of the proposed
camp. The boat skirted along the shore
and a careful examination was made to discover
landing places that might provide access
from the lake to such camping sites as
might later be found.
Several good landing places were found.
The one they selected tentatively as a mooring
for the boat was a large flat-rock projection a
few hundred yards north of the Graham pier.
A comparatively level shore margin extended
back nearly a hundred feet from this rock to
the point, where the wooded incline began.
The boatman and a boy of eighteen who had
been engaged to assist in handling the heavier
paraphernalia, remained in the boat while the
girls started off in pairs to explore the near-by
territory for the most advantageous and
available site.
They came together again half an hour later
and compared notes. The result was that the
report made by Marion Stanlock and Harriet
Newcomb proved the most interesting. They
// 087.png
.pn +1
had found a pretty nook half way up the side
of the hill shore and sheltered by a bluff on the
inland side and trees and bushes at either end,
so that no storm short of a hurricane could
seriously damage a well-constructed camp in
this place. The area was considerable, quite
sufficient for the pitching of the complement
of tents of the Fire.
After all the girls had inspected this proposed
site in a body, a unanimous vote was
taken in favor of its adoption. This being
their decision, they returned without delay to
the boat and the work of carrying their camping
outfit a distance of some three hundred
yards was begun.
The pilot and the boy assistant took the
heavier luggage while the girls carried the
lighter articles and supplies. In this manner
everything was transported to the camp site
in about an hour. The pilot and the boy then
assisted in the work of putting up the tents,
and after this was finished they were paid and
dismissed.
Everything went along smoothly while all
this was being done. Not another person appeared
in sight during this period, except the
occupants of several boats that motored by.
The Graham cottage was about a quarter of a
mile to the south and farther up on the hill,
but the screen of dense foliage shut it off from
view at the girls’ camp.
All the rest of the day was required to put
the camp into good housekeeper’s condition.
// 088.png
.pn +1
The light folding cots had to be set up and got
ready for sleeping, the kitchen tent also required
much domestic art and ingenuity for
the most convenient and practical arrangement,
and a fireplace for cooking had to be
built with rocks brought up principally from
the water’s edge.
So eager were they to finish all this work
that they did not stop to prepare much of a
luncheon. They ate hurriedly-prepared sandwiches,
olives, pickles, salmon, and cake, and
drank lemonade, picnic style, and kept at their
camp preparation “between bites,” as it were.
In the evening, however, they had a good
Camp Fire Girls’ supper prepared by Hazel
Edwards, Julietta Hyde and the Guardian.
Then they sat around their fire and chatted,
principally about the beauty of the scenery
on every hand.
But they were tired girls and needed no urging
to seek rest on their cots as the sun sunk
behind the hills on the opposite side of the
lake. The move “bedward” was almost simultaneous
and the drift toward slumberland not
far behind. They had one complete day undisturbed
with anything of a mysterious or startling
nature, and it was quite a relief to find it
possible to seek a night’s repose after eight
or nine hours of diligent work without being
confronted with apprehensions of some impending
danger or possible defeat of their
plans.
// 089.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-18
CHAPTER XVIII||PLANNING.
.sp 2
Next morning the girls all awoke bright
and early, thoroughly refreshed by their
night’s rest. A breakfast of bacon, flapjacks
and maple syrup, bread and butter and chocolate
invigorated them for a new day of camp
life in a new place.
Their program was already pretty well
mapped out, being practically the same as that
followed while in camp in Fern Hollow near
Fairberry. They still did some work on certain
lines arranged under the honor lists of
the craft, but were giving particular attention
to knitting and sewing for the Red Cross,
which they aided in an auxiliary capacity.
The program regularly followed by the
girls required three hours of routine work
each day. This they usually performed between
the hours of 7 and 10 or 8 and 11, depending
upon the time of their getting up and
the speed with which they disposed of the
early morning incidentals.
On this morning, in spite of the fact that
they had gone to bed thoroughly tired as a
result of the exertions of the preceding day,
the girls arose shortly after 6 o’clock and by
7:30 all were engaged in various record-making
occupations, including the washing of the
breakfast dishes and the making of the beds
and the general tidying-up of the camp.
// 090.png
.pn +1
After the routine had been attended to, the
girls took a hike for the purpose of exploring
the country to the north of their camp. This
exploration extended about two miles along
the shore, their route being generally the automobile
road that skirted the lake at varying
distances of from a few rods to a quarter of a
mile from the water’s edge, depending upon
the configuration of the shore line.
During much of this hike, Katherine, Hazel
and Miss Ladd walked together and discussed
plans for creating a condition of affairs that
might be expected to produce results in harmony
with the purpose of their mission. They
were all at sea at first, but after a short and
fruitless discussion of what appeared to be
next to nothing, Katherine made a random
suggestion which quickly threw a more hopeful
light on affairs.
“It seems to me that we’ve got to do something
that will attract attention,” she said.
“We’ll have to do some sensational, or at least
lively, stunts so that everybody will know we
are here and will want to know who we are.”
“That’s the very idea.” Miss Ladd said
eagerly.
Katherine was a little startled at this reception
of her suggestion. When she spoke,
she was merely groping for an idea. But Miss
Ladd’s approval woke her up to a realization
that she had unwittingly hit the nail on the
head.
“Yes,” she said, picking up the thread of a
// 091.png
.pn +1
real idea as she proceeded; “we have got to
attract attention. That’s the only way we can
get the people in whom we are most interested
to show an interest in us.”
“What shall we do?” Hazel inquired.
“Map out a spectacular program of some
sort,” Katherine replied. “We might build a
big bonfire, for one thing, on the shore tonight
and go through some of our gym exercises, including
folk dances.”
“Good,” said Hazel. “Let’s start off with
that. And tomorrow we can have some games
that will make it necessary for us to ran all
over the country—hare and hounds, for instance.”
“We ought to find a good safe swimming
place near our camp, too,” Katherine said.
“Let’s look for one this afternoon,” Miss
Ladd suggested.
“How will we test it?” Hazel inquired.
“That’s easy,” the Guardian replied. “We’ll
use poles to try the depth and then one of us
will swim out with one end of a rope attached
to her and the other end in the hands of two
of the girls ready to haul in if she needs assistance.
In that way we will be able to locate
a good swimming place and not run any
risk of anybody’s being drowned.”
“We’ve got a good starter, anyway,” Katherine
remarked in a tone of satisfaction. “By
the time we’ve taken care of those items something
more of the same character ought to
occur to us. Yes, that’s the very way to interest
// 092.png
.pn +1
the Grahams in our presence and open the
way for an acquaintance.”
The three now separated and mingled with
the other girls who were some distance ahead
or behind, and communicated the new plan to
all of them. It was received with general approval
and was the main topic of conversation
until they all returned to the camp for luncheon.
// 093.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-19
CHAPTER XIX||WATCHED.
.sp 2
After luncheon, the girls, with two sharp
hatchets among them, began a search through
the timber for some long, slim saplings. After
a half hour’s search they were in possession
of three straight cottonwood poles, ten or
twelve feet long, and with these in their possession,
they began an examination of the
water-depth along the shore for a safe and
suitable bathing place.
They might have used their fishing rods for
this purpose, but these were not serviceable,
as they were of extremely light material and,
moreover, were hardly long enough for this
purpose. The saplings proved to be excellent
“feelers” and the work progressed rapidly
from the start.
About 200 yards north of their camp was a
sandy beach which extended along the shore
a considerable distance. It was here that the
girls made their first under-water exploration,
They tied a rough stone near one end of each
of the poles to increase its specific gravity and
then proceeded to “feel” for depth along the
water’s edge.
Careful examination with these poles failed
to disclose a sudden drop from the gradual
downward slope of the beach into the water,
so that there appeared to be no treacherous
// 094.png
.pn +1
places near the shore. Satisfied in this respect,
they now arranged for a further test.
Azalia Atwood, who was an excellent swimmer,
returned to the camp, donned a bathing
suit, and then rejoined the other girls, bringing
with her a long rope of the clothesline variety.
One end of this was looped around her
waist, and Marion Stanlock had an opportunity
to exhibit her skill at tying a bowline.
While two of the girls held the rope and
payed it out, Azalia advanced into the water,
stepping ahead carefully in order to avoid a
surprise of any sort resulting from some hidden
danger under the surface of the lake. To
some, all this caution might seem foolish, inasmuch
as Azalia swam well, but one rule of
Flamingo Camp Fire prohibited even the best
swimmers from venturing into water more
than arm-pit deep unless they were at a beach
provided with expert life-saving facilities.
The purpose of Azalia’s exploration was to
wade over as large an area of lake bottom as
possible and establish a certainty that it was
free from deep step-offs, “bottomless” pockets
and treacherous undertow. Soon it became
evident that she had a bigger undertaking
before her than she had reckoned on, for
the bed of the lake sloped very gradually at
this point, and Katherine Crane and Estelle
Adler volunteered to assist her.
“All right,” said Azalia, welcoming the suggestion.
“Go and put on your bathing suits
and bring a few more hanks of rope. Better
// 095.png
.pn +1
bring all there is there, for we probably can
use it.”
Katherine and Estelle hastened back to
camp and in a short time returned, clad in
their bathing suits and carrying several hundred
feet of rope. In a few minutes they too
were in the water and taking part in the exploration,
protected against treacherous conditions
as Azalia was protected.
In half an hour they had explored and pronounced
safe as large a bathing place as their
supply of rope would “fence in” and then began
the “fencing” process. They cut several
stout stakes six feet long and took them
to the water’s edge. Then the three girls in
bathing suits assumed their new duty as water
pile-drivers. They took one of the stakes at a
time to a point along the proposed boundary
line of the bathing place, also a heavy mallet
that had been brought along for this purpose.
A wooden mallet, by the way, was much more
serviceable than a hatchet for such work,
inasmuch as, if dropped, it would not sink, and
moreover, it could be wielded with much less
danger of injury to any of those working together
in the water.
The first stake was taken to the northwest
corner of the proposed inclosure. Katherine,
who carried the mallet, gave it to Estelle and
then climbed to a sitting posture on the latter’s
shoulders. Then Azalia stood the stake
on its sharpened end and Katherine took hold
of it with one hand and began to drive down
// 096.png
.pn +1
on the upper end with the mallet, which Estelle
handed back to her.
It was hard work for several reasons—hard
for Estelle to maintain a steady and firm posture
under the moving weight, hard for Katherine
to wield the mallet with unerring
strokes, hard to force the sharpened point into
the well-packed bed of the lake. Katherine’s
right arm became very tired before she had
driven the stake deep enough to insure a reasonable
degree of firmness. While this task
was being performed, the girls were still protected
against the danger of being swept into
deeper water by the ropes looped around their
waists and held at the other ends by some of
the girls on the sandy beach.
After this stake had been set firmly into the
river bed, the girls returned to the shore and
got another. This they took to another position
about the same distance from the beach
as the first one and drove it into the hardened
loam under the water. The same process was
continued until six such stakes had been driven.
Then they took up the work of extending
rope from stake to stake and completing the
inclosure. The sags were supported by buoys
of light wood tied to the rope, the two extreme
ends of which were attached to stakes driven
into the shore close to the water.
“There, that is what I call a pretty good
job,” declared Miss Ladd gazing with proud
satisfaction upon the result of more than
three hours’ steady work. “Whenever you
// 097.png
.pn +1
girls come out here to go bathing, you will be
well warranted in assuming that you have
earned your plunge.”
All the girls by this time had their bathing
suits on, but most of them were too tired to
remain in the water any longer; so, by common
consent, all adjourned to the camp to rest
until suppertime.
“Well, it appears that our activities have
not yet aroused any special interest in the
Graham household,” Hazel Edwards observed
as they began their march back toward the
sheltered group of tents.
“I’m not so certain of that,” Miss Ladd replied.
“Why not?” Katherine inquired, while several
of the girls who were near looked curiously
at the Guardian.
“Because I believe I have seen evidences of
interest.”
“You have!” exclaimed two or three unguardedly.
“Now, girls, you are forgetting yourselves,”
said Miss Ladd warningly. “Remember that
the first requisite of skill in your work here
is caution. The reason I didn’t say anything
to you about what I saw is that I was afraid
some of you might betray your interest in the
fact that we were being watched. I saw two
girls half hidden in a clump of bushes up near
the top of the hill. I am sure they were watching
us. They were there at least half an
hour.”
// 098.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-20
CHAPTER XX||THE MISSILE.
.sp 2
Five of the members of the Camp Fire were
present when Miss Ladd made this startling
announcement that they had been watched
secretly for a considerable time while roping
off the limits of their swimming place. The
other girls had taken the lead back to the
camp and were a considerable distance ahead.
“Are they watching us yet?” Azalia asked.
“I think not,” the Guardian replied. “I
haven’t seen any sign of them during the last
twenty minutes.”
“How do you know they are girls?” Katherine
inquired. “That’s quite a distance to recognize
ages.”
“Oh, they may be old women, but I’ll take a
chance on a guess that they are not. The millinery
I caught a peep at looked too chic for a
grandmother. I’ve got pretty good long-distance
eyes, I’ll have you know,” Miss Ladd
concluded smartly.
There was no little excitement among the
other girls when this bit of news was communicated
to them. But they had had good experience-training
along the lines of self-control,
and just a hint of the unwisdom of loud
and extravagant remarks put them on their
guard.
Some of the girls proposed that the plan of
// 099.png
.pn +1
building a bonfire in the evening be given up
and nobody objected to this suggestion. All
the girls felt more like resting under the shade
of a tree than doing anything else, and those
who had performed the more arduous tasks
in the work of the afternoon were “too tired
to eat supper,” as one of them expressed it.
So nobody felt like hunting through the timber
for a big supply of firewood.
The atmosphere had become very warm in
the afternoon, but the girls hardly noticed this
condition until their work in the water was
finished and they returned to the camp. After
they had rested a while some of the girls read
books and magazines, but little was done before
supper.
After supper some of the girls, who felt
more vigorous than those who had performed
the more exhausting labor of the afternoon,
revived the idea of a bonfire and were soon at
work gathering a supply of wood. They busied
themselves at this until nearly dusk and then
called the other girls down to the water’s edge,
where on a large rocky ledge arrangements
for the fire had been made.
All of the girls congratulated themselves
now on the revival of the bonfire idea, for the
mosquitos had become so numerous that comfort
was no longer possible without some
agency to drive them away. A bonfire was
just the thing, although it would make the
closely surrounding atmosphere uncomfortably
warm.
// 100.png
.pn +1
Even the girls who had performed the hardest
tasks in the “fencing in” of their swimming
place were by this time considerably
rested and enjoyed watching the fire seize the
wood and then leap up into the air as if for
bigger prey.
“Let’s sing,” proposed Harriet Newcomb
after the fire had grown into a roaring, crackling
blaze, throwing a brilliant glow far out
onto the water.
“What shall it be?” asked Ethel Zimmerman.
“Burn Fire, Burn,” Hazel Edwards proposed.
“Marion, you start it,” Miss Ladd suggested,
for Marion Stanlock was the “star” soprano of
the Fire.
In a moment the well-trained voices of fourteen
Camp Fire Girls were sending the clear
operatic strains of a special adaptation of the
fire chant of the Camp Fire ritual. The music
had been composed and arranged by Marion
Stanlock and Helen Nash a few months previously,
and diligent practice had qualified the
members of the Camp Fire to render the production
impressively.
This song was succeeded by a chorus-rendering
of a similar adaptation of the Fire
Maker’s Song. Then followed an impromptu
program of miscellaneous songs, interspersed
here and there with such musical expressions
of patriotism as “America,” “Star Spangled
Banner,” and “Over There,” in evidence of a
// 101.png
.pn +1
mindfulness of the part of the United States
in the great international struggle for democracy.
Meanwhile dusk gathered heavier and heavier,
the stars came out, and still the fire blazed
up brightly and the girls continued to sing
songs and tell stories and drink in the vigor
and inspiration of the scene. At last, however,
the Guardian announced that it was 9
o’clock, which was Flamingo’s curfew, and
there was a general move to extinguish the
fire, which by this time had been allowed to
burn low.
Suddenly all were startled by an astonishing
occurrence. A heavy object, probably a stone
as large as a man’s fist, fell in the heap of embers,
scattering sparks and burning sticks in
all directions. There was a chorus of screams,
and a frantic examination, by the girls, of one
another’s clothes to see if any of them were
afire.
// 102.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-21
CHAPTER XXI||“SH!”
.sp 2
“Who in the world do you suppose did
that?” Hazel Edwards exclaimed, as she
hastily examined her own clothes and then
quickly struck out a spark that clung to the
skirt of Azalia Atwood.
“Quick, girls,” cried Miss Ladd; “did any of
you do that?”
There was a chorus of indignant denials.
No room for doubt remained now that the missile
had been hurled by someone outside the
semicircle near the bonfire.
All eyes were turned back toward the timber
a short distance away, but not a sign of a
human being could they see in that direction.
“If we’d been on the other side of the bonfire,
we’d have got that shower of sparks right
in our faces and all over us,” Katherine Crane
said indignantly.
“We ought to find out who threw that rock,
or whatever it was,” Ethel Zimmerman declared.
“It must be a very dangerous person,
who ought to be taken care of.”
“If that sort of thing is repeated many
times, some of us probably will have to be
taken care of,” observed Julietta Hyde.
“Listen!” Miss Ladd interrupted, and the
occasion of her interruption did not call for
explanation. All heard it. A moment later it
was repeated.
// 103.png
.pn +1
“Wohelo!”
“No Camp Fire Girl ever made such a noise
as that,” said Helen Nash disdainfully.
“It sounds like a man’s voice,” Azalia Atwood
remarked.
“I’ll bet a Liberty Bond that it is a man,”
ventured Ruth Hazelton.
“Have you a Liberty Bond?” asked Helen.
“I’m paying for one out of my allowance,”
Ruth replied.
Just then the “noise” was repeated, a hoarse
hollow vocalization of the Camp Fire Watchword.
This time it seemed to be farther away.
“The person who gave that call threw the
missile into our bonfire,” said Miss Ladd in a
tone of conviction. “If he bothers us any more
we’ll find out who he is.”
The girls now turned their attention again
to the fire. Several pails of water were carried
from the lake and dashed into the embers
until not a spark remained. Then they returned
to their tents and to bed, although apprehensive
of further disturbance before
morning.
But they heard nothing more of the intruder
that night.
Shortly after sunup, the girls arose, put on
their bathing suits, and went down to the
beach for a before-breakfast plunge. Marie
Crismore and Violet Munday reached the
water’s edge first, and presently they were
giving utterance to such unusual expressions,
indicative seemingly of anything but pleasure
// 104.png
.pn +1
that the other girls hastened down to see what
was the matter.
There was no need of explanation. The evidence
was before them. The stakes that had
been driven into the bed of the lake to hold the
rope intended to indicate the safety limit had
been pulled out and thrown upon the shore.
The rope itself had disappeared.
“There surely are some malicious mischief
makers in this vicinity,” Helen Nash observed.
“I suppose the person who did that was the
one who threw a stone into our bonfire and
hooted our watchword so hideously.”
“What shall we do?” Violet Munday questioned.
“We can’t let this sort of thing go on
indefinitely.”
“We must complain to the authorities,” Ernestine
Johanson suggested.
“Do you suppose they would do anything?”
Estelle Adler asked. “I understand it’s very
hard to get these country officials busy on
anything except a murder or a robbery.”
“Then we must organize a series of relief
watches and take the law into our own hands,”
Katherine proposed.
“Spoken like a true soldier,” commented
Miss Ladd approvingly. “I was going to suggest
something of the same sort, although not
quite so much like anarchy.”
“Where do you suppose they hid that rope?”
Marion Stanlock inquired. “Somebody probably
needed a clothesline.
“Here come some people who may be able
// 105.png
.pn +1
to throw some light on the situation,” said
Marion.
All looked up and saw two girls apparently
in their “upper teens,” dressed more suitably
for an afternoon tea than a rustic outing. The
latter were descending the wooded hill-shore,
and had just emerged from a thick arborial
growth into a comparatively clear area a hundred
yards away.
“Sh!” Katherine warned quickly. “Be careful
what you say or do. Those are the Graham
girls.”
// 106.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-22
CHAPTER XXII||THE GRAHAM GIRLS CALL.
.sp 2
“They’re early risers; we must say that
much for them,” observed Katherine in a low
voice. “We must give them credit for not lying
in bed until 10 o’clock and, and——”
“And for dressing for an afternoon party
before breakfast,” Helen Nash concluded.
“Isn’t it funny!” Hazel Edwards said with
a suppressed titter. “I wonder if they are going
in bathing.”
“Keep still, girls,” Miss Ladd interposed.
“They’re getting pretty near. Let’s not pay
too much attention to them. Let them seek
our acquaintance, not we theirs. The advantage
will be on our side then.”
At this suggestion of the Guardian, the girls
turned their attention again to the conditions
about their bathing beach. A moment later
Katherine made a discovery that centered all
interest in unaffected earnest upon the latest
depredation of their enemy, or enemies. With
a stick she fished out one end of a small rope
and was soon hauling away at what appeared
to be the “clothes line” they had used to indicate
the safety limits of their bathing place.
“Well, conditions are not as bad as they
might be,” said Miss Ladd, as she took hold to
assist at hauling the line out of the water.
// 107.png
.pn +1
“We have the stakes and the rope and can put
them back into place.”
“Would you mind telling us what has happened?”
These words drew the attention of the Camp
Fire Girls away from the object discovered in
the water and to the speaker, who was one of
the older of the urbanely clad summer resorters
from the Graham cottage.
“Someone has been guilty of some very malicious
mischief,” Miss Ladd replied. “We had
roped in a bathing place after examining it
and finding it safe for those who are not good
swimmers, and you see what has been done
with our work. The stakes were pulled up and
the rope hidden in the water. Fortunately we
have just discovered the rope.”
“Isn’t that mean!” said the younger girl,
whom the campers surmised correctly to be
Olga Graham.
“Mean is no name for it,” the other Graham
girl declared vengefully. “Haven’t you any
idea who did it?”
“None that is very tangible,” Miss Ladd replied.
“There was a mysterious prowler near
our camp last evening, but we didn’t catch
sight of him. He threw a heavy stone into our
bonfire and knocked the sparks and embers
in every direction, but he kept himself hidden.
A little later we heard a hideous call in the
timbers, which we were pretty sure was intended
to frighten us.”
// 108.png
.pn +1
“That’s strange,” commented the older of
the visitors.
“Maybe it’s the ghost,” suggested Olga with
a faint smile.
“Ghost!” repeated several of the Camp Fire
Girls in unison.
“I was just joking,” the younger Graham
girl explained hurriedly.
“Why did you suggest a ghost even as a
joke?” inquired Katherine. The utterance of
the word ghost, together with the probability
that there was a neighborhood story behind it,
forced upon her imagination an irrational explanation
of the strange occurrences of the
last evening.
“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Olga reassured,
but her words seemed to come with a
slightly forced unnaturalness. “But there has
been some talk about a ghost around here, you
know.”
“Did anybody ever see it?” asked Hazel Edwards.
“Not that I know of,” avowed Olga. “Of
course, I don’t believe in such things, but, then,
you never can tell. It might be a half-witted
person, and I’m sure I don’t know which I’d
rather meet after dark—a ghost or a crazy
man.”
“Is there a crazy man running loose around
here?” Ernestine Johanson inquired with a
shudder.
“There must be,” Olga declared with a suggestion
of awe in her voice. “If it isn’t a ghost—and
// 109.png
.pn +1
I don’t believe in such things—it must
be somebody escaped from a lunatic asylum.”
“I saw something mysterious moving
through the woods near our cottage one
night,” Addie Graham interposed at this point.
“Nobody else in the family would believe me
when I told them about it. It looked like a
man in a long white robe and long hair and a
long white beard. It was moonlight and I was
looking out of my bedroom window. Suddenly
this strange being appeared near the edge of
the timber. He was looking toward the house,
and I suppose he saw me, for he picked up a
stone and threw it at the window where I
stood. It fell a few feet short of its mark, and
then the ghost or the insane man—call him
what you please—turned and ran away.”
“My sister told us about that next morning,
and we all laughed at her,” said Olga, continuing
the account. “I told her to go out and find
the stone, and she went out and picked one up
just about where she said the stone that was
thrown at her fell.”
“Were there any other stones near there?”
Marion Stanlock inquired.
“We looked around specially to find out if
there were any others near, but didn’t find
any,” Olga answered. “Addie—that’s my sister—had
the laugh on us all after that.”
“Do you live in the cottage over there?”
Ethel Zimmerman inquired, pointing toward
the Graham summer residence.
“Yes,” Addie replied. “Our name is Graham.
// 110.png
.pn +1
We were very much interested when we
learned that a company of Camp Fire Girls
were camping near us.”
“Don’t you girls camp out any?” Katherine
asked with the view of possibly bringing out
an explanation of the Graham girls’ attire,
which seemed suited more for promenading
along a metropolitan boulevard than for any
other purpose.
“Oh, dear no,” Olga answered somewhat
deprecatingly. “We’d like to well enough, you
know, but we’re in society so much that we
just don’t have time.”
Katherine wanted to ask the Graham girls
if they were going to a stylish reception before
breakfast, but restrained the impulse.
Both Katherine and Hazel recognized Addie
as the girl whom, on their first trip to Stony
Point, they had seen handle roughly the little
boy they believed to be Glen Irving, the grandnephew
of Mrs. Hutchins’ late husband in
whose interests they made the present trip of
inspection. Whether or not she recognized
among the campers the two girls to whom she
had behaved so rudely on that occasion did not
appear from her manner, which was all sweetness
now. She continued her social discourse
thus:
“I really wish society did not demand so
much of our time, and I’m sure my sister feels
the same way about it. There’s nothing we’d
like better than to become Camp Fire Girls
and live close to nature, you know, just the
// 111.png
.pn +1
way you girls live. Truly it must be delightful.
But when you become an integral figure
in society (she really said integral), you are
regarded as indispensable, and society won’t
let go of you.”
None of the Camp Fire Girls attempted to
reply to this speech. Their plan was to bring
about an appearance of friendship between
them and the Grahams in order that they
might associate with the family that had custody
of the little boy in whose interests they
were working. Any attempt on their part,
they felt, to discuss “society” from the point
of view of the Graham girls must result in a
betrayal of their utter lack of sympathy with
this “social indispensability” of such helpless
society victims.
“We’d like, however, to do something for
you in your unfortunate situation,” Addie
Graham continued with a gush of seeming
friendliness. “I’m sure my brother James—he’s
16 years old—would be glad to assist you
in any way he can. I’m going to send him
down here, if you say the word, to help you
extend that rope around your swimming place.
He’s a very handy boy, and it would be much
better for you to let him do the work than to
perform such a laborious task yourselves.”
“Thank you ever so much,” returned Miss
Ladd with a warmth that seemed to indicate
acceptance of the offer. The truth was that
anything which tended to increase friendly
// 112.png
.pn +1
relations between them and the Grahams was
acceptable.
“I’ll send him around today,” the older Graham
girl promised. “We must hurry back
now for breakfast. We were just out for an
early morning constitutional, you know.”
“Come and see us any time you wish,” Miss
Ladd urged. “You’ll always be welcome. We
haven’t made the acquaintance of anybody
around here yet. Come over and help us eat
one of our constitutional luncheons, or suppers.
We have real picnics every day, the jolliest
kind of times—except when the ghost
walks. Maybe you can help us catch the ghost,
also.”
“Maybe we can,” said Addie. “Well, good-bye.
You girls come and see us, too.”
“Thank you,” was the acknowledgment uttered
by several of the members of Flamingo
Camp Fire as the two Misses Graham stepped
primly in their French-heel shoes over the uneven
ground and returned homeward along a
diagonal course up the side of the hill-shore
of Twin One.
// 113.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-23
CHAPTER XXIII. || “HIGH C.”
.sp 2
All the members of Flamingo Camp Fire
gathered close together on the sandy beach
after the departure of the two Graham girls
and held a low-toned discussion of the situation.
“There was only one thing missing this
morning,” Hazel Edwards observed. “That
was the perfume. I suppose they didn’t have
time to spill it on in proper proportions.”
“I wonder why they came down here at this
time of day?” said Harriet Newcomb. “There
must be something in the air.”
“I bet they never got up this early before
unless their house was afire,” Ethel Zimmerman
ventured.
“Do you suppose they wanted to be on hand
to witness our discomfiture when we discovered
what had been done to our swimming
place?” Azalia Atwood asked.
“That would imply that they knew who did
it and may even have been a party to the plot,”
Miss Ladd reasoned.
“And why not?” Azalia returned. “They
don’t look to me, for a moment, to be above it.”
“I feel like a miserable hypocrite,” Katherine
declared with a sarcastic smile. “I’m not
used to extending warm expressions of friendship
// 114.png
.pn +1
to people for whom I haven’t any use and
asking them to call and see me.”
“Remember you’re a spy now,” said Helen
Nash slyly. “When engaged in a praiseworthy
spy work, always remember your
mother and the pantry and the fist in the jam,
if you have any doubt as to the worthiness of
your occupation.”
“Enough said,” Katherine announced, “I’m
convinced. The jam is well spiced and I smell
it already. I shall expect to find it on somebody’s
fist.”
The girls did not forego their morning
plunge because of the removal of the “safety
line,” but were careful to keep well within the
approximate limit which they remembered
fairly well. After about fifteen minutes in the
water they returned to the camp and donned
their khaki middies; then they had breakfast.
The breakfast dishes had not long been
washed and put away when another caller arrived
at the camp. Although not unheralded,
the appearance of this new arrival was a surprise
to all the girls, for they had not rested
much importance upon the promise of Addie
Graham to send her brother to them to offer
his assistance in repairing the damage done
by some mischief-maker in the night before.
The young male scion of the Graham family
appeared so suddenly before the eyes of the
girl campers that some of them afterward expressed
the suspicion that he walked timidly
on his tiptoes all the way from his home to the
// 115.png
.pn +1
camp. Indeed all the members of Flamingo
Fire have today a decided impression that the
sound of his voice was the first notice they had
of his approach.
Whether this impression be a true one or
not, that voice was enough to compel memory
of it ahead of anything else. It was the most
effeminately high-pitched voice the girls had
ever heard.
“Excuse me, young ladies, but my name is
James Graham, Jr.,” squeaked the treble clef.
There was a general start throughout the
camp. Most of the girls were seated upon the
grassy plot within the crescent arrangement
of the tents and engaged in their forenoon
routine, and several of them actually dropped
their craft work into their laps so great was
their surprise. Ethel Zimmerman uttered a
little cry of astonishment in almost the same
key as the announcement of the newcomer.
The latter was almost as effeminate in appearance
as in voice. First, he was very much
overgrown and fleshy. He probably weighed
150 pounds. His face was round and very
pale, and his eyes were not over-endowed with
expression. He wore a “peaches-and-cream”
two-piece suit and a panama fedora and carried
a delicate bamboo cane.
“My two thoughtful sisters info’med me
that you young ladies were in need of the assistance
of a man, and I volunteered to offer
my aid,” continued young Master Graham.
“Oh dear me,” replied Katherine; “it would
// 116.png
.pn +1
be a shame to put you to so much trouble. We
thank you ever so much for your offer, but
we’d much rather retain the friendship of
your folks by urging you not to insist. If you
really must be so good as you suggest, you
might go back and send your hostler or chauffeur,
but tell him to bring a pair of rubber
boots that reach to his ears.”
This rather enigmatical answer puzzled the
not very quick-witted James, Jr., and his chin
dropped.
“You see, we want a pile-driver out in the
lake to sink some posts into the submarine
earth,” Katherine continued. “But, by the
way, come to think of it, you might help us
wonderfully if you have a rowboat and would
lend it to us for an hour or two.”
“Sure I’ve got a boat,” replied the “would-(not)-be
ladies’ aid,” as one of the girls afterward
dubbed him. The tone of relief with
which he now spoke was unmistakable. “I’ll
go and row it right over to you.”
“We won’t want it until about 11 o’clock,”
said Miss Ladd. “If you need it between now
and then you’d better wait.”
“Oh we won’t want it all day,” James, Jr.,
returned reassuringly. “I’ll bring it right
away.”
“I hope he doesn’t tip his boat over on his
‘high C’” Hazel Edwards said generously, as
the caller disappeared in the timber. “He
might be drowned in the billows of his own
voice.”
// 117.png
.pn +1
“That’s his name—High C,” declared Estelle
Adler enthusiastically. “I refuse to
recognize him by any other name. Dear me,
girls, did you ever in all your born days hear
such a voice?”
“No,” cried several in chorus.
“He’s just the dearest thing I ever saw,” declared
Ernestine Johanson, making a face as
sour as the reputation of a crabapple.
At this moment the discussion of “High C”
was dropped as suddenly as “it” had appeared
upon the scene. Another arrival claimed the
interest of the girls.
It was a little boy about ten years old, clad
in steel-gray Palm Beach knickerbockers and
golf cap, but not at all happy in appearance.
He was a good looking youth, but there was no
sprightly cheerfulness in his countenance.
He seemed nervous and on the alert.
“My goodness!” exclaimed Hazel Edwards;
“that’s Glen Irving, the little boy we——”
Katherine, who was seated close to Hazel,
cut the latter’s utterance short by clapping
her hand over the speaker’s mouth.
// 118.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-24
CHAPTER XXIV||THE RUNAWAY.
.sp 2
The boy was excited. Evidently he was
laboring under anything but normal conditions.
He had appeared very suddenly around
the north end of the bluff which sheltered the
camp on the east. “High C” or “Jimmie Junior,”
as the girls from now on referred to
young Graham, had left the camp around the
south extremity of the bluff.
The youth in Palm Beach knickerbockers
fairly rushed from the thicket north of the
camp and directly toward the girls, all of
whom jumped to their feet in astonishment.
The newcomer did not slacken his pace, but
ran up to the group of startled campers as if
seeking their protection from a “Bogy Man.”
And as he stopped in the midst of the group
which circled around him almost as excited as
he, the little fellow looked back as if expecting
to behold some frightful looking object
bearing down upon him.
“I ran away,” were his first words; “so—so
they couldn’t beat me.”
“Who wanted to beat you?” inquired Miss
Ladd sympathetically, leaning over and taking
him gently by the hand.
“Mom—an’ Ad.—an’ Olg.—an’ Jim—they
all hit me,” he replied, his eyes flashing with
anger. “Mom locked me in a room, but I
// 119.png
.pn +1
opened a window an’ clum out.”
“Did they beat you today?” Hazel Edwards
questioned.
“No,” replied the youth with a puzzled look;
“they don’t want you to know they whipped
me. They stopped it after you came and after
a man came and told ’em not to.”
“Who is the man?” Hazel asked.
“I don’t know. I heard his name, but I forgot.”
“Was it Langford?”
“Yes, that’s it—Langford. He told ’em all
to be good as pie to me while you was here.
They thought I was asleep, but I was just pretendin’.”
“Did Mr. Langford say why they must be
good to you while we were here?” asked Katherine.
“I guess he did,” the boy replied slowly. “He
said somebody’d take me away and Mom ’u’d
lose a lot o’ money.”
“That’s just what we thought,” Hazel declared.
“What else did you overhear?” Katherine
inquired.
“They’re goin’ to be awful nice and awful
mean.”
“Awful nice and awful mean,” Katherine
repeated. “That’s interesting. What do you
mean by that?”
“They’re goin’ to be awful nice to your face,
but mean on the sly.”
“Have they done anything mean yet?” Miss
// 120.png
.pn +1
Ladd interposed, having in mind the depredations
of the night before.
“I don’t know,” the boy answered. “They
were talkin’ about doing somethin’ last night,
and the man and Jim went out together.”
“You don’t know what they proposed to
do?”
“No—just somethin’, anything they could.”
“What is your name, little boy?” Hazel
asked.
“Glen” was the answer.
“Glen what?”
“Glen Graham.”
“Isn’t it Glen Irving?”
The boy looked doubtfully at his interrogator.
“I don’t know,” he replied slowly. “I guess
not.”
“Didn’t you ever hear the name Irving before?”
The boy’s face brightened up suddenly.
“That was my papa’s name,” he said eagerly.
“Now, I want to ask you an important question,”
said Miss Ladd impressively. “Try your
best to tell us all you can, and don’t tell any
of the Grahams you were down here talking
to us. We won’t forget you. If they beat you
any more come, and tell us if you can get
away. We’ll have the police after them. But
be sure to keep this to yourself. Now, here’s
the question I want you to answer: Did anybody
// 121.png
.pn +1
outside of the Graham family ever see
them beat you?”
“Sure,” Glen replied quickly. “Byron Scott
did. So did Mrs. Pruitt and Guy Davis and
Mark Taylor.”
“Where do they live?” was Miss Ladd’s next
question.
“Byron lives here, so does Mrs. Pruitt. Guy
and Mark live in Baltimore.”
“Do they live near the Graham’s home in
Baltimore?”
“Yes, right in the same block. Mark lives
next door.”
“Good. Now, Glen, we are going to take
you back to Mrs. Graham. We haven’t any
right to keep you here, but if they beat you
any more, we will complain to the police and
take you away never to come back to them.”
“Oh, I wish you would,” exclaimed the little
fellow, throwing his arms around the neck of
the Guardian who had seated herself on the
grass before him. “I don’t want them to scare
you with a ghost.”
“Scare us with a ghost!” Miss Ladd repeated
in astonishment. “What do you mean by
that?”
“They said——” the boy began, but his explanation
was interrupted in a manner so confusing
that the group of Camp Fire Girls
might easily have wondered if the world were
suddenly assuming all the absurdities of a
clownish paradise in order to be consistent
with what was now taking place.
// 122.png
.pn +1
Addie Graham, the girl of ultra-style and
perfume who had behaved so rudely to little
Glen when she discovered the runaway with
Katherine and Hazel in the woods, suddenly
dashed into the deeply interested group of
Camp Fire inquisitors, seized the boy in her
arms, kissed him with apparent passionate
fondness, and addressed him with a gush of
endearment that must have brought tears to
the eyes of an unsophisticated listener.
// 123.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-25
CHAPTER XXV||A LITTLE SCRAPPER.
.sp 2
“Oh, you dear little brother, you dear darling
child,” almost sobbed Addie as she seized
Glen Irving in her arms and began to shower
kisses on his unwilling face.
The boy shrunk away, or into as small a
compass as he was able, to escape from the
“affectionate attack.” Plainly it was anything
but pleasing to him.
The “attack,” however, did not cease in response
to his protest. Addie held onto her
captive with all her strength, at the same time
attempting to soothe his wrath or fear, or
both, with as many kisses as she could force
in between the boy’s belligerent arms. Glen,
conscious of the presence of friends who, he
believed, would go to any extreme to assist
him, fought as he had never fought before,
desperately, viciously. He used his fists and
fingernails to good purpose and pulled Addie’s
hair until it presented a ludicrous appearance
of disarrangement.
Realizing that the boy’s actions might
prove harmful to his cause if this affair should
ever be contested in the courts, Miss Ladd decided
to take a hand and do what she could
to pacify the young heir who had suddenly
been transformed into a veritable wildcat. She
// 124.png
.pn +1
had no doubt that there was good cause in his
past experience for the development of such
character in him, but expediency demanded
that it be checked at once.
“Here, let me take him,” Miss Ladd urged
as she laid her hands on his shoulders and attempted
to draw him away. A few gentle
words and an exhibition of a kind persuasiveness
of manner brought success. She drew
the lad back some distance and tried to reason
with him, whereupon he burst into convulsive
sobbing.
His sobs were not a new expression of an
outburst of passion. Miss Ladd was certain
of this. Little Glen was weeping not because
anger “opened the floodgates of his soul,” but
because of some picture of dread in his past
experience which he feared would be repeated
in the future.
But Addie Graham was not equal to the
occasion. The veneer of gentleness that she
had put on could not withstand the deep-seated
spitefulness of her nature, and as she observed
a severe scratch on one hand and felt
the disarrangement of her hair, she yielded
impulsively to vengefulness of spirit that was
boiling within her and exclaimed:
“The miserable little pest! Just wait till I
get you home, Glen Graham, and I’ll——”
She stopped right there, much to the disappointment
of the eagerly listening Camp Fire
Girls who fully expected her to open an avenue to
// 125.png
.pn +1
the very evidence for which they were
looking.
“Why!” she continued, with a desperate effort
to control her temper. “I never knew
him to act that way before. He’s usually such
a—such a—sweet dispositioned little dear. I
don’t know what to make of it. He took me
completely by surprise. I don’t understand it—I
don’t know what to make of it—I can’t
understand the little—the little—d-dear.”
“It is strange, very strange,” Miss Ladd
agreed, purposing, for policy’s sake, to help
the girl out of her predicament.
“Come to sister, Glennie dear,” Addie continued,
after she had succeeded in rearranging
her hair and restoring her hat to its normal
position on her head. “Don’t you know
sister loves you just lots? Why did you run
away? Come back home and sister will give
you some candy, just lots of it. Come on,
now, that’s a good little boy.”
“I don’t want your candy and you ain’t my
sister, and I won’t go back. You’ll beat me,
and mom’ll beat me and everybody else’ll beat
me. Don’t let her take me back, please don’t,”
Glen concluded, turning his face pleadingly
toward Miss Ladd.
“Oh, you must go back, Glen,” the Guardian
replied, reproachfully. “That’s your home,
don’t you know? Where in the world will you
go if you don’t go back home? Think of it—no
// 126.png
.pn +1
place in the world to go, no place in the
world.”
There was a tone of awe in the young woman’s
voice that impressed the boy. He cooled
down considerably and looked meditatively at
his monitor.
“They’ll beat me,” he protested earnestly.
“They’ll tie me to a bed post and strap me.”
“Why, how perfectly terrible!” Addie exclaimed.
“I never heard of such a thing. I
can’t understand such remarks.”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Katherine suggested
reassuringly. “We’ll all go back to the
house with you and fix everything up nice.
They won’t beat you, I’m sure. Come on, Miss
Graham, we’ll help you, if you don’t think
we’re intruding.”
Addie did not know how to reply and did
not attempt to. She started toward home and
the Camp Fire Girls followed her, Miss Ladd
leading the battling runaway by the hand.
Glen was considerably bewildered and apparently
submissive during the journey homeward.
He said little, and when he spoke, it
was only a short reply to something said to
him.
At the door of the cottage, they were met
by Mrs. Graham, to whom Addie introduced
them. None of the girls were well impressed
by the woman’s appearance or manner. She
affected the same ungenuine interest and affection
for Glen that had characterized Addie’s
// 127.png
.pn +1
manner toward him. But they managed
to bring about a condition more or less reassuring
to the boy and left him, with secret
misgivings, in the custody of the family which
they held more than ever under suspicion.
“We’ve got to do some real spy work now,”
said Miss Ladd after they had reached their
camp again. “We’ve got to find out what is
going on in that house when those people
have no suspicion that they are being
watched.”
// 128.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-26
CHAPTER XXVI||AMMUNITION AND CATAPULTS.
.sp 2
The thirteen Camp Fire Girls and their
Guardian are hardly to be censured because
they did little more work of a routine nature
that day. One could hardly expect them to
fix their minds upon any “even tenor” occupation
while the thrills of recent developments
supplied so much stimulus for discussion
of future prospect.
They were careful in these discussions not to
leave open any possibility of their being overheard.
Their conversations were always held
in low tones and in places where it would be
difficult for any of the members of the Graham
family to find positions of concealment
near enough to overhear what was being said.
One thing decided upon was in line with
Miss Ladd’s declaration that they must find
out “what was going on in the Graham
house,” having reference, of course, to the
treatment received there by little Glen in view
of his violent protest against being returned
to the care and custody of the people whom he
charged with acts of cruelty toward himself.
A scouting expedition was planned for the
evening, the “official scouts” of the Fire—Katherine
and Hazel—being delegated to this
work. Katherine proposed that two others
be selected to assist them, and Miss Ladd suggested
// 129.png
.pn +1
that they choose their assistants themselves.
“We’ll think it over and pick them before
suppertime,” said Katherine after conferring
with Hazel.
The result was that before sundown Azalia
Atwood and Ernestine Johanson had been
added to the spy squad. Their selection came
as a result of general discussions of the work
in prospect, in the course of which both Azalia
and Ernestine made several suggestions that
were regarded as clever and helpful for the
scouting plans.
Shortly after the girls returned from the
Graham cottage to their camp, “Jimmie Junior”
of the “treble clef voice” appeared with
the announcement that he had brought his
boat to the Camp Fire landing and moored
it by tying the painter to a projecting rock.
They thanked him and proceeded at once with
the task of restoring the safety-guard line to
their bathing place. All put on their bathing
suits and went down to the beach.
With the aid of the boat their work was
much easier than it had been the first time. It
is no easy performance for one person to sit
on the shoulders of another and wield a mallet
on the upper end of a stake held by a third
person in water arm-pit deep. If you doubt
this assertion, just try it.
Well, this difficult feat was unnecessary
this time. The stakes, rope, and mallet were
put into the boat, and three of the girls got in
// 130.png
.pn +1
and rowed out to the point where the southwest
stake had been driven before. Then two
of them plunged overboard and, while one of
these steadied the boat and the other held the
stake in position, the girl in the boat drove it
firmly into the sand-clay bed of the lake.
This operation was repeated until the supports
of the buoy-line were all restored. Then
the rope was stretched from stake to stake
and wooden buoys attached as before.
The work was speedily performed and then
the girls all had a good swim. When they returned
to their camp, it was lunch time and
the “gastronomic committee,” as Harriet, the
“walking dictionary,” had dubbed the commissary
department, got busy. During the
meal, which they ate on a “newspaper tablecloth,”
picnic-style, the subject of organized
self-protection against further depredations
was discussed.
“I believe we ought to establish a relief
watch system to be kept up all night every
night as long as there seems to be any danger
of our being molested by prowlers like those
who paid us a visit last night,” Estelle announced.
“What would we do if we caught anybody
at any mischief?” asked Azalia.
“We’d sail right into ’em and give ’em Hail
Columbia,” declared Hazel like a vigilance
committee chairman.
“Yes, we’d pull their hair,” said Marie Crismore.
// 131.png
.pn +1
“And scratch their eyes out,” Ernestine
chimed in.
“And boo-shoo ’em away,” added Julietta
Hyde.
“I’m positively ashamed of you for talking
that way,” Miss Ladd interposed. “You’re
laughing at yourselves because you are girls.
Now, you ought not to do that, even in fun.
How many of you can do some real boys’
stunts just as well as the boys can?”
“I can swim half a mile,” announced Hazel.
“I can do a fly-away from the horizontal
bar,” declared Violet Munday.
“I can run a hundred-yard dash in thirteen
seconds,” said Ernestine; “and that’s better
than lots of boys can do it.”
“I can throw a ball like a boy,” said Helen
Nash.
“So can I”—this from Marion Stanlock.
“Oh, several of us can do that,” Katherine
declared. “We’ve played ball with the boys.
But now you’re getting close to what I was
driving at. We’ll proceed to gather a supply
of ammunition.”
“Ammunition!” several exclaimed.
“Surely,” Katherine replied. “We’ll get it
down on the beach.”
“Oh, I get you,” said Estelle. “You
mean——”
“Rocks,” cried Marie, getting the word in
ahead of Estelle.
“That’s it,” Katherine admitted. “We’ll
// 132.png
.pn +1
shower rocks at anybody that makes us any
more trouble.”
“Very ingenious,” Miss Ladd said approvingly.
“If those persons who visited us last
night come again, they’ll get a warm reception.”
“And a hard one,” Marion supplemented.
“I have another idea,” Helen announced,
and everybody turned attention to her. “I
have some heavy rubber bands in my grip. I
always carry them because they come in very
handy sometimes.”
“What can you do with them?” Estelle
asked.
“What do you think?” Helen returned.
“I know,” cried Ethel Zimmerman. “Make
catapults with them.”
“Good!” several of the girls exclaimed.
“The boys call them slingshots,” said the
Guardian.
“How do you make a slingshot?” Julietta
inquired.
“I know,” Marion announced. “You cut a
forked stick, like the letter ‘Y.’ Then you tie
two rubber bands to it, one to each fork. Between
the other ends of the bands you tie a
little sack, or shallow pocket, made of leather
or strong cloth. You put a stone in this pocket
and pull it back, stretching the rubber
bands, take aim, and let it fly.”
“You must have had experience making
those things,” Katherine suggested.
“No, I never made one,” Marion replied;
// 133.png
.pn +1
“but I’ve watched my cousin make them and
shoot them, too. He was very skillful at it.”
“Can you shoot a catapult?” Katherine inquired.
“I think I can,” Marion answered.
“Good,” said Katherine. “We’ll make several,
and those who can’t throw stones can use
slingshots.”
That was a very busy afternoon for this
warlike group of girls. While the luncheon
dishes were being washed and put away,
Katherine and Hazel rowed the boat back to
the Graham landing, thanked “Jimmie Junior”
for its use, accepted with solemn countenances
his “high-C” “You’re welcome,” and
returned to their camp. Then the work of
manufacturing arms and ammunition, in anticipation
of another midnight invasion, began.
// 134.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-27
CHAPTER XXVII||THE GHOST.
.sp 2
Before the “preparedness program” of the
afternoon was started, Miss Ladd addressed
the group of Camp Fire Girls thus, speaking
in low tone, of course, in order that she might
not be overheard by any eavesdropper who
might be in hiding in the vicinity:
“Now, we want to do this thing right. How
many of you feel that you can throw a stone
a considerable distance and accurately?”
Katherine, Helen, Marion and Violet held
up their hands.
“How many of you would like to use catapults?”
was the Guardian’s next question.
The hands of Harriet, Marie, Ethel, and
Ruth went up promptly. A moment later Estelle
and Ernestine also put up theirs.
“I believe I could learn how,” said Estelle.
“We don’t want too much demonstration
around here this afternoon,” Miss Ladd
warned. “Everything must proceed quietly
and as if nothing unusual were taking place.
How many rubber bands have you, Helen?”
“Oh, a dozen or twenty,” the latter replied.
“Well, we’ll proceed to cut half a dozen Y-forks
and make them into catapults. We’ll
start out at once. Hazel, you get a hatchet,
and, Marie, you get a saw; the rest of you get
your combination knives.”
// 135.png
.pn +1
In a few minutes they were in the thick of
the timber, searching the small trees and saplings
for Y-forks to serve as catapult handles.
In half an hour they returned with a dozen of
varying degree of symmetry and excellence.
Then the work of assembling the parts of
these miniature engines of war began. Some
of the girls exhibited a good deal of mechanical
skill, while others made moves and suggestions
so awkward as to occasion much
laughter.
“Well, anyway,” said Marie after she had
been merrily criticised for sewing up the
“mouth” of a “pocket” so narrowly that a
stone could hardly fly out of it; “there are lots
of boys who would make a worse job sewing
on a button. Don’t you remember last winter
at a button-sewing contest, Paul Wetzler cast
the thread over and over and over the side of
the button—and he didn’t know any better.”
“That’s a very convenient way to dodge a
joke on you, Marie,” said Violet. “But just
because boys don’t know anything is no reason
why we shouldn’t.”
“Whew! some slam at me,” Marie exclaimed.
“I’m very properly squelched.”
After half a dozen catapults had been made,
the girls practiced slinging stones for an hour
and several of them developed considerable
skill. In this way it was determined who
should have the preference in the use of these
weapons.
Then at the suggestion of Miss Ladd, a
// 136.png
.pn +1
dozen slings were made to be tied about the
waist for carrying a supply of stones, some
the size of an egg, for throwing with the hand
and pebbles for use in the catapults. After
these were completed, the girls went down to
the beach and gathered a plentiful supply and
took them back to the camp. Then a score
or two of these stones were deposited in the
slings, and the latter were put in convenient
places in the tents on short notice. The catapults
also were turned over to those of the
girls who proved most capable of using them
skillfully.
The last item of preparations on the program
of the day consisted of completing plans
for a succession of night watch reliefs. As
Katherine, Hazel, Azalia, and Ernestine were
assigned to special scout duty immediately
after dusk, they were excused from assignment
on any of the reliefs. This left ten girls
among whom the watches might be divided,
which was done in the following manner:
The eight sleeping hours from 9 P.M. to
5 A.M. were divided into live watches of equal
length and assignments were made thus:
First watch: Marion Stanlock and Helen
Nash. Second watch: Ruth Hazelton and
Ethel Zimmerman. Third watch: Violet Munday
and Harriet Newcomb. Fourth watch:
Julietta Hyde and Marie Crismore. Fifth
watch: Estelle Adler and the Guardian, Miss
Ladd.
Nothing further of particular interest took
// 137.png
.pn +1
place during the rest of the day, except that
shortly before suppertime Addie and Olga
Graham, both dressed “fit to kill,” called at
the camp and thanked the girls for their assistance
in getting “their brother” back home.
“Is he all right now?” Hazel inquired with
genuine concern.
“Yes, he’s fine,” Addie replied. “You see he
has spells of that kind every now and then,
and we don’t know what to make of it. But
today’s was the worst spell he ever had.”
“Don’t you do anything for him?” Hazel
asked.
“What can we do?” Addie returned. “He
isn’t sick. I’m afraid it’s just a little distemper.
There is absolutely no reason for it.”
Miss Ladd asked the Graham girls to remain
at the camp for supper, but they “begged to be
excused on account of a pressing social engagement.”
After darkness had fallen as heavily as
could be expected on a clear, though moonless
night, the four scouts set out through the timber
toward the Graham cottage. All of them
carried flashlights and clubs which might easily
have been mistaken in the dark for mere
walking sticks. The clubs were for protection
against dogs or any other living being which
might exhibit hostility toward them. Katherine
and Hazel had also two of the rubber-band
catapults, as they had exhibited no little skill,
for novices, in the use of them.
The other girls built a small fire near the
// 138.png
.pn +1
tents, to keep the mosquitos away, and sat
around it chatting and waited for the scouts
to return. Miss Ladd insisted, as soon as dusk
began to gather, that they bring out their
“ammunition” from the tents and keep it close
at hand for immediate use if anything should
happen to require it.
And something did happen, something of
quite unexpected and startling character.
The scouts had been gone about half an hour
and the night had settled down to a blanket
of darkness on the earth, a sprinkle of starlight
in the sky, the croaking of frogs, the
songs of katydids and the occasional ripple of
water on the lake shore. A poet might have
breathed a sigh of delightful awe. Well, the
girls were pleasureably impressed with scene
and the sounds, if they were not exactly delighted,
and the awe was coming.
It came without warning and was before
them very suddenly. It was in the form of a
man in a long, white robe, long white hair and
whiskers, the latter reaching almost to his
waist. He stalked, stiffly, unemotionally out
of the darkness south of the camp and across
the open space within thirty feet of the fire,
where sat the startled, chill-thrilled group of
girls, speechless with something akin to fear
and momentarily powerless to shake off the
spell that held them as rigid as statues.
// 139.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-28
CHAPTER XXVIII||A BUMP ON THE HEAD.
.sp 2
Suddenly Helen Nash’s memory served her
so well that she regained control of her wits
with a shock. Here is what she remembered:
“I don’t want them to scare you with a
ghost”—these words uttered by little Glen
just before his warning speech was interrupted
by the appearance of Addie Graham at the
girls’ camp.
That recollection was enough for Helen.
There was nothing tenuous, elusively subtle,
or impenetrably mysterious any longer about
the ghostly apparition. Little Glen had something
very clear and definite in his mind when
he made that remark.
Her muscles having relaxed from their
rigid strain of superstitious suspense, Helen
reached for the “ammunition sling” that she
had placed beside her and drew therefrom one
of the catapults they had made in the afternoon,
also a pebble about the size of a marble,
and fitted the latter in the pocket of the
weapon. Then she drew back the pocket and
the pebble, stretching the rubber bands as far
as she could extend them, and took careful
aim.
Helen had practiced with this weapon a
good deal in the last two or three hours and
acquired considerable proficiency for so short
// 140.png
.pn +1
a period of experience. Moreover, she was
skilled in amateur archery and could pull a
bow with a strong right arm. This experience,
together with a general systematic athletic
training at school, rendered her particularly
well adapted for her present undertaking.
The other girls, under the spell of awe-fascination
which had seized and held Helen before
it was broken by a sudden jog of her
memory, knew nothing of what was going on
in their midst until they heard the snap of
the rubber bands. And doubtless it would
have taken them considerable time to fathom
it had the pebble-shooter’s aim not proved to
be remarkably good. It struck the “ghost” on
the head.
Of course even Helen could not follow the
pebble through the air with her eyes, nor
could she see where it struck, but other unmistakable
evidence informed her as to the
trueness of her aim and the effect of the blow.
A sharp thud informed her that she had hit
something of substantial resistance, and the
next bit of evidence broke the spell for the
other girls with a realization of what had
taken place.
The “ghost” wavered and seemed about to
topple over, at the same time emitting a groan
of pain which proved him to be thoroughly human.
Helen was frightened, but there was a
new kind of awe in this fright. All suggestion
of superstition had left her and in its
// 141.png
.pn +1
place was the dread that she might have killed
a man.
The latter dread, however, was soon dispelled.
The “ghost” did not fall. He staggered,
it is true—evidently the pain of the
blow had stunned him considerably; but he
managed to put speed into his pace, although
the evidence of his suffering was even greater
after he began to run. In a minute he disappeared
in the darkness of the timber.
“My! that was a good shot, Helen,” Ethel
Zimmerman exclaimed. “And he will surely
wear some lump on his head for some time to
come.”
“I was afraid I pulled too hard,” Helen replied
with a sigh of relief; “and, believe me,
I’d rather be scared by a ghost several times
over than with the prospect of having a murder
record.”
“Who is he?—have you any idea?” Violet
asked.
“Can’t you guess?” Helen answered. “Isn’t
he someone connected with the Graham family?”
“What was he trying to do—scare us?” Julietta
inquired, addressing the question as
much to herself as to anybody else.
“I should imagine something of the kind,
although he may be the crazy man the Graham
girls spoke about,” said Helen.
“I don’t believe there is any such person,”
Miss Ladd volunteered at this point.
// 142.png
.pn +1
“Then why did they suggest such an idea?”
Violet questioned.
“I don’t know, unless it was to frighten us,”
the Guardian replied.
“Frighten us away from here,” Harriet supplemented.
“Exactly,” said Helen. “That’s my theory
of the affair. Don’t you remember what Glen
Irving said just before Addie Graham put in
her appearance and cut short our interview
with the boy?”
“He said something about ghosts,” Harriet
recalled.
“Not about ghosts, but a ghost,” Helen corrected.
“It made quite an impression on me.
Didn’t any of you wonder what he meant?”
“I did,” announced Violet; “and I remember
exactly what he said. It was this: ‘I
don’t want them to scare you with a ghost.’”
“Those were the very words,” Helen declared.
“Now do you get the connection between
that remark and what just took place?
Glen had heard them talking over their plans.
Isn’t it all very clear?”
“At least it is very interesting,” commented
Miss Ladd.
“Since you have got so near a solution of
this affair, perhaps you’ll go a step farther
and tell your interested audience who that
ghost was,” Ruth Hazelton suggested.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t be so rash as that,”
Helen responded; “but if I were going to
write to Mrs. Hutchins tonight, I would suggest to
// 143.png
.pn +1
her that, if Mr. Pierce Langford should
return to Fairberry in the next week or two,
she might have somebody examine his head
for a bump.”
“A phrenological bump?” inquired Harriet,
the “walking dictionary.”
There was a general laugh.
“Not a phrenological bump,” Helen answered.
// 144.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-29
CHAPTER XXIX||A CRUEL WOMAN.
.sp 2
Katherine, Hazel, Ernestine and Azalia
found it no easy task to pick their way
through the dark timber more than half a
mile to the Graham cottage. Several times,
finding themselves hopelessly entangled in a
thicket, or stumbling over disagreeably uneven
ground, and fearful of losing their way,
they made use of their flash lights until able
to continue their journey satisfactorily.
But after they caught their first glimpse of
the light in the Graham cottage, they made
no further use of the flash lights. Guided by
the illuminated windows and their memory of
the surroundings, they made their way over
the intervening space until within a hundred
feet of the house, where they halted and
looked and listened for about fifteen minutes.
First, they wished to make sure that there
was no dog on the place. They were reasonably
certain that the Grahams kept no watchdog,
as several of the girls had been careful
to check up in this regard when passing near
or calling at the cottage. But as additional
precaution, they made a careful inspection
from a safe distance on this scouting expedition
before venturing close to the house.
The night was clear and warm, but no moon
was shining. There was a stillness in the air
// 145.png
.pn +1
which alone might have been expected to
cause a dog to howl for very lonesomeness.
Even while the four scouts were waiting for
evidence of a canine guard at the Graham
place, far away in the distance there came a
mournful howl from a mournful hound in a
farmyard. The sound was repeated several
times, and although there were two or three
echoing responses from as many neighboring
sources, none came from a kinship kennel of
the Graham premises.
At last Katherine and Hazel decided that it
was safe to advance nearer to the house.
Leaving Azalia and Ernestine at the edge of
the timber to watch for any condition or circumstance
that might prove unfriendly to
their venture, the two leaders advanced across
the clearing.
As they neared the building, a sound, which
they had not heard before reached their ears
and drove from their minds all thought or
fear of a watchdog. The sound was like the
plaintive cry of a child and seemed to be muffled
as if coming through two or three thick
walls.
There were two windows on the side of the
house nearest the advancing girl scouts.
Through the drawn shade of one of these
came the rays of incandescent bulbs which
lighted the room. The other window was
dark.
The advance of Katherine and Hazel was
guided now by the seeming source of the muffled
// 146.png
.pn +1
cry. As they started for the house, their
initial impulse was to direct their steps toward
the lighted window. But as they approached
the building, almost unconsciously
they veered gradually to the right until they
found themselves standing close to the unlighted
window at the rear.
Without a doubt the muffled sounds came
from this part of the cottage. A whispered
conversation between the girls resulted in the
following procedure: Hazel stood guard at a
distance of ten or fifteen feet while Katherine
stood close to the window, almost pressing
her ear against the glass in order the better
to hear the sounds that interested them. For
two or three minutes the listener continued in
this attitude; then she went to where Hazel
stood and the latter advanced to the window
and did likewise. She also tried the sash to
see if it was locked, succeeding in raising it
slightly, so that the sounds within reached her
ear more distinctly.
Several minutes later both of these girls returned
to the edge of the clearing and rejoined
their two companions stationed there.
A low-voiced consultation was held, at the
close of which Hazel said:
“Well, all this means that we’ll have to return
to the cottage and stay there until we
find out something more. Let’s see what we
can discover in the front of the house.”
She and Katherine accordingly went back
and directed their inspection as Hazel had
// 147.png
.pn +1
suggested. The shade trees did not cover the
lower pane to the full limit and they were able
to look in and get a fairly good view of the
room.
Mrs. Graham and “Jimmie Junior” apparently
were the only members of the family at
home, if we may disregard as one of the family,
little Glen, who undoubtedly was the
author of the muffled sobs. Mrs. Graham was
reading a fashion magazine and her son was
playing solitaire at a card table.
Almost the first view acquainted the girls
with the fact that the woman was much disconcerted
over something, and it soon became
evident that the cause of this nervousness was
the sound of weeping that reached her
through the closed door of an adjoining room.
Presently she arose, with a hard look on her
face and determined manner, and moved in
the direction from which the offending noise
came.
Katherine and Hazel did not take the additional
precaution this time of alternating as
watcher and guard. They stood together at
the window, and as they saw Mrs. Graham
open the door they moved quickly to the window
next toward the rear. By the time they
reached it, this room also was lighted.
Fortunately a similar condition existed
here also with reference to the width of the
window shade and they were able to get a
fairly good view of this apartment. Mrs. Graham
evidently was disposed to lose no time
// 148.png
.pn +1
and to leave ground for no misunderstanding
as to her purpose. She threw open a second
door, this time a closet door, and the girls beheld
a sight that fairly made their blood boil.
There sat little Glen on a chair with a rope
wound around his body, arms, and legs, securing
him so firmly to the article of furniture
on which he was seated that he could scarcely
move a muscle. His face was wet with tears
and a picture of suffering.
For the first time the watchers observed
that the woman had a leather strap in her
hand, and they were still further horrified
when they saw her swing it cruelly against
the bare legs of the quivering child.
Once, twice she struck the boy. Hazel and
Katherine could hardly contain their indignation.
Indeed it is not at all to be doubted that
they would have attempted to interfere on the
spot if an interruption had not come from another
source before the third blow could fall.
There was a disturbance in the front of the
house. Somebody had entered and was talking
in a loud voice. Mrs. Graham let her arm
fall without dealing the third blow for which
she had raised it as a man entered the room in
anything but mild and pleasant manner.
“What are you doing, Mrs. Graham?” he
demanded. “What did I tell you about this
conduct of yours? Do you realize that you
are bringing things to a climax where I’ll
wash my hands of the whole affair?”
The speaker was Pierce Langford.
// 149.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch1-30
CHAPTER XXX||THE GIRLS WIN.
.sp 2
Mrs. Graham looked uncomfortable—not
ashamed or abashed. Doubtless the conflict
within her was between the cruelty of her nature
and the fear of financial reverses in consequence
of that cruelty. She did not answer
the rebuke of her confederate attorney.
The latter drew a knife from his pocket and
in a moment was severing the rope that bound
the child to the chair. After he had released
the boy, who looked gratefully toward him as
a protector, the man threw cold water on little
Glen’s natural feeling of confidence toward
him by saying:
“Now, mind you, Mrs. Graham, my interference
is not moved by any sentiment of
sympathy for the kid. I merely want to inform
you that things are coming to such a
pass that I may be forced to drop out of this
game purely as a move of self-salvation. For
instance, it appears very unwise to make any
further attempts to frighten that bunch of
girls. They simply don’t scare. See that?”
Langford indicated the object of his question
by taking off his hat, which he had neglected
to remove when he entered the house,
and caressing gently with two or three fingers
a badly swollen wound on the side of his
head almost directly over his right ear. Mrs.
// 150.png
.pn +1
Graham looked at it curiously, not sympathetically.
“Where did you get that?” she inquired.
“Those girls did it, or one of them, I presume.
I thought my make-up would paralyze
them, but instead they nearly paralyzed me.
I think they fired some rocks at me, for something
of that description struck my head, and
you see the result.
“I drove my machine into the timber a little
farther up the road and put on my ghost
outfit. Then I walked through the woods to
the girls’ camp and stalked past them. You
would have thought my appearance was
enough to freeze their veins and arteries.
Well, they pretty nearly put mine in cold storage
for eternity. Now, what do you know
about ‘first aid to the injured?’ Will you get
some cold water and alcohol or liniment? I’m
going to have a fierce swelling. I don’t suppose
I can keep it down much now, but I’m
going to have an awful headache and I’d like
to prevent that as much as possible. Let the
kid go to bed, and do something for me.”
Glen took advantage of this suggestion and
went into another room. Mrs. Graham and
the lawyer returned to the living room. Katherine
and Hazel watched them for about
twenty minutes, but heard little more conversation.
Then Langford left the house and
Mrs. Graham and her son prepared to retire.
As it appeared that they would be able to get
no further information of interest to them
// 151.png
.pn +1
at the Graham cottage that night, Katherine
and Hazel and the other two girls who waited
at the edge of the clearing returned to their
camp and reported the success of their expedition.
.tb
Early next day, Miss Ladd, Katherine, and
Hazel went by boat to Twin Lakes and appeared
before a magistrate and swore out a
warrant for the arrest of Mrs. Graham on a
charge of cruel and inhuman treatment of a
child in her custody. Before leaving Fairberry
she had been given authority to take
this move if in her judgment such emergency
action were advisable. She also asked that
Glen Irving be removed from the custody of
the Grahams. Then Miss Ladd sent a telegram
to Mrs. Hutchins asking her to “come at
once.”
Mrs. Hutchins arrived at Twin Lakes next
day. Meanwhile Mrs. Graham was arrested
and the boy was taken temporarily as a ward
of the court. When she was confronted with
the charges against her and the evidence of
the two Camp Fire Girls who had witnessed
one instance of outrageous cruelty, her cold
resistance was broken and she promised to accede
to Mrs. Hutchins demands if the prosecution
were dropped.
This seemed to be the best settlement of the
whole affair, and it was accepted. By order of
court Glen was turned over to Mrs. Hutchins
// 152.png
.pn +1
who assumed the obligation of his care and
custody.
Mrs. Hutchins remained with the girls a
week at their camp at Stony Point, and then
all returned to Fairberry, where the tents
were pitched again in the broad and scenic
ravine known as Fern Hollow. Here they
camped again for another week, summarized,
tabulated, and classified the achievements of
the last few weeks, conferred honors, and
finally adjourned to their several homes, there
to remain until the autumn opening of school.
But the adventures of the year for this
Camp Fire were not complete. More of equally
stirring character were in store for three
of the girls, and those who would follow these
events should read the volume entitled:
.sp 2
.nf c
CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON A HIKE;
or,
LOST IN THE GREAT NORTHERN WOODS.
.nf-
.sp 2
// 153.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
A PRINCESS OF THE WOODS
.nf-
.sp 4
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2
CONTENTS.
.sp 2
.ta r:6 h:40 r:5
Chapter | | Page
I | A Long Time Ago | #1:ch2-01#
II | Brother and Sister | #14:ch2-02#
III | Father and Daughter | #27:ch2-03#
IV | A Call of State | #40:ch2-04#
V | A Timely Arrival | #52:ch2-05#
VI | At Jamestown | #64:ch2-06#
VII | Up the Chickamohiny | #76:ch2-07#
// 154.png
.pn +1
VIII | Parting Company | #89:ch2-08#
IX | Hard Pressed | #101:ch2-09#
X | A Prisoner | #113:ch2-10#
XI | The Friend in Need | #125:ch2-11#
XII | Conclusion | #137:ch2-12#
.ta-
.sp 2
// 155.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
A PRINCESS OF THE WOODS
.nf-
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-01
CHAPTER I.||A LONG TIME AGO
.sp 2
Now, will my readers be good enough to
turn to their map of the United States and
look at the state of Virginia, one of the
most important members of the Union?
You will notice the large inlet called Chesapeake
Bay, which reaches far to the northward
and divides Maryland into two sections,
known as the Eastern and the Western
shore. Down near the mouth of this bay
you will observe the broad outlet of a large
river, the James, named from James I.,
who succeeded Queen Elizabeth in 1603,
and ruled England until his death in 1625.
Make a careful study of the lower fifty or
hundred miles of the James River, for the
incidents I am about to tell you occurred
in that section of the country.
At the time I have in mind—the beginning
of 1607—there was not a white man in
Virginia, nor in any of the present States
to the northward. The Spanish had gained
a foothold farther to the south, and St.
// 156.png
.pn +1
Augustine, Florida, the first permanent white
settlement in the United States, had had
a feeble existence for more than forty years.
Of course, the mountains, lakes, and rivers
were the same as they are today; but there
were no cities, towns, or villages, only vast
stretches of forest and wilderness, where
roamed wild animals and wild men or Indians.
These people had no horses or cattle. The
large herds of wild horses which had already
begun to roam over the prairies and plains
of the southwest, were the descendants of
the droves of the early Spanish explorers,
but not an animal of that kind was to be
found in Virginia or to the northward.
When the Indians wished to go from one
place to another, they did so by means of
their canoes, or small birchen boats, if a
stream was near; if not, they tramped
through the forest. They knew nothing of
firearms, but used bows and arrows, spears,
tomahawks, and knives, with which they
killed bears, deer, buffaloes, and large game.
Since they did not know how to forge iron,
they made their knives, tomahawks, and
spearheads of bone or stone. These wild
men were divided into large tribes or families,
whose head or ruler was called chief, and
whom all the others had to obey. His men
were called warriors, the women were squaws,
and the babies were papooses. The tribes
// 157.png
.pn +1
were jealous of one another, and often fought.
Generally their captives were put to cruel
deaths. Some of the tribes numbered several
thousand warriors, and in more than one
instance a number of tribes formed a confederacy.
The Iroquois, or Six Nations,
whose headquarters were in the present
State of New York, was the most powerful
union of this kind that ever existed among
the American Indians.
Although, as I have said there was not an
English settlement in America at the opening
of 1607, you must not think no attempts
had been made to form such colonies. Away
up in New England parties of men had
landed and tried to makes homes for themselves,
but the climate was so rugged, and the
hardships they had to face so trying, that
they gave up, and those who did not die made
haste to get back to Old England again.
The strangest fate of all attended the
efforts of Sir Walter Raleigh to plant settlements
in America. He sent out several
expeditions, the last in 1587. It numbered
one hundred and fifty men and women, who,
landing on Roanoke Island, off the coast of
North Carolina, began building new homes.
There the first child of English parentage
was born, her name being Virginia Dare. I
am sorry to say these people did not get
on well together, but seemed to be quarrelling
// 158.png
.pn +1
all the time. Finally, Governor White,
who was the head of the colony, sailed for
England to bring back help.
When he arrived home a war with Spain
was threatened, and he was unable to return
to Roanoke until after three years. He was
very anxious to rejoin the people, for he
had left his daughter among the colonists;
but, strange to say, when he landed he was
unable to find a single member of the company.
He came upon many signs, but not
a living man or woman. Sir Walter Raleigh
did everything he could to learn their fate,
but was never able to gain any certain
knowledge. Today one of the strangest and
most romantic incidents in the colonial history
of the United States is that of the
“Lost Colony of Roanoke.” The mystery
has never been explained how so many men
and women could disappear and leave no
trace behind them. But here is a theory
which has always seemed reasonable to me:
Among the Indians of that section you
will find at the present time quite a number
who have light hair and blue eyes. What
more probable than that the surviving members
of the Lost Colony married among the
natives, and that the odd-looking Indians of
whom I have spoken are their descendants?
It seems remarkable that more than a
hundred years had passed since the discovery
// 159.png
.pn +1
of America by Christopher Columbus,
without seeing the planting of a single permanent
English colony on this side of the
Atlantic. All this time, too, England laid
claim to the whole continent, because of the
discoveries of John Cabot and his son Sebastian.
Finally, however, in 1606, two great
companies were formed for the colonization
of America, one in Plymouth and the other
in London. The efforts of the Plymouth
Company ended in failure, but the other
corporation was successful. In the depth of
the winter of 1606, three vessels—the Sarah
Constant, of one hundred tons burden; the
Godspeed and the Discovery, each of forty
tons, started across the Atlantic, under the
command of Captain Christopher Newport.
They carried one hundred and five men,
but no women, and intended to settle at
Roanoke Island, where the “lost colony”
had disappeared some twenty years before;
but they were driven farther north by a
storm, and, with no idea of where they were,
began hunting for a suitable place for settlement.
They sailed into the broad opening
of Chesapeake Bay, and were still roving
northward when they were pleased with the
appearance of a wide river, which flowed into
the bay from the mainland on the west.
They turned the prows of their little vessels
// 160.png
.pn +1
into this stream, carefully studying the shores
in their quest for an inviting spot.
It was the radiant month of May, with
mild skies and soft breezes, which kept the
craft steadily making their way against the
gentle current. These hardy men, standing
on the decks of their little vessels, and gazing
at the shores, after being tossed about for
months on the stormy Atlantic, were sure
they had never gazed upon anything so
beautiful. The banks were exuberant with
brilliant wild flowers, whose sweet fragrance
was wafted across the smooth waters, while
the green hills and mountains in the distance
were softened to the most delicate
tints against the blue sky. The craft moved
so slowly that the calm current made only
the faintest rippling against the bows, and
the bellying sails being once set, remained
as smooth and unruffled as if they were so
much painted canvas. All the attention
needed was for the man at the helm to hold
it steady, so as to keep the boat near the
middle of the great stream.
Rich, emerald vegetation and gorgeous
flowers were not all that caught the attention
of the charmed Englishmen. There were
men and women in this new country, descendants
of those who had lived there for
unknown ages. They were standing motionless
on the shores, studying the approaching
// 161.png
.pn +1
vessels with much the same emotions that
must have come to the natives of San Salvador
when they first caught sight of the
caravels of Columbus. One party, among
whom several women could be seen, stood
on a slight eminence, a hundred or more
yards back from the stream, as if afraid to
come any nearer. The warrior in the middle
was fully a head taller than his companions,
and was observed to point one hand towards
the vessels, as if calling the attention of
the others to some peculiar features of the
strange craft, the like of which none had
ever looked upon before.
On the margin of the river, where there
was a natural clearing of an acre or so,
another party gathered, including also several
women. They were talking and gesticulating,
and it would be interesting could we know
what they said to one another. When the
Sarah Constant, which was leading, and a
hundred yards in advance of the smaller
boats, came opposite this group, two of the
warriors were seen to fit arrows to their
bowstrings, aim carefully, and let them fly.
The feathered missiles could be easily traced
as they curved upward in a beautiful parabola,
and then darted, head downward, into
the clear current, not having traversed half
the distance between the land and the ship.
The men crowding the decks could well
// 162.png
.pn +1
afford to smile at such efforts. Captain
Newport suggested that it would be a good
thing to fire a volley into the party, as
they had done some days before near the
mouth of the river when greeted by a shower
of arrows.
“No; we should cultivate their good will;
we shall have need of their friendship, and
must not use our firearms so long as our
lives can be saved without doing so.”
This remark, in crisp, decisive tones, was
made by a man standing at the prow, with
a spy-glass in his hand, which he turned
now and then towards the different groups.
He was of sturdy build, dressed in the civilian
dress of the well-to-do citizen of those times,
with a full, sandy beard and a huge military
mustache. His face was deeply tanned, he
wore a sword at his side, and his countenance
showed resolution and firmness. He was not
yet thirty years of age, and no one could
look at his figure without seeing he possessed
unusual strength and hardihood. It was
plain that mentally and physically he was
above the officers and crew about him.
This man was one of the most remarkable
persons connected with the early history of
the United States, and the foremost individual
in the colonial period of the chief
State. He was Captain John Smith, whose
great services won him the name of the
// 163.png
.pn +1
“Father of Virginia,” and there can be no
question that he deserved the honor. That
he was a great boaster cannot be denied.
Some of the stories he told of his adventures
in France, Egypt, Hungary, Turkey, and
other countries were true only in his imagination,
recent researches having proved this
to be the fact. None the less, he was one
of the bravest of men, unselfish, enterprising,
frank, and far-seeing; and it may as well be
said at this point, that the first English
colony in America would have perished from
the earth but for the wisdom, energy, and
self-sacrificing labors of this famous native
of Lincolnshire.
The Indians who had launched the useless
arrows must have done so as an indication
of their feelings towards the white men who
had dared to invade their country. Now
and then several of the warriors, bolder
than their companions, skirted the shore in
their canoes, keeping abreast of the vessels,
and occasionally venturing for a little way
towards them; but they hurriedly withdrew
again, as if they had heard something of
the terrible weapons which spouted fire and
killed without anyone understanding how,
since no eye could ever detect the fatal
missile. The Indians in their boats, as a
rule, kept close to land, so as to be ready to
// 164.png
.pn +1
take to flight the instant it became necessary.
The result more than once was amusing.
A canoe containing four warriors, after
several timid ventures, headed out in the
river, as if they intended to board the strange
craft. They paddled slower and slower, until
when twenty rods or so from land their
courage oozed away, and they dared advance
no farther. They paused with their long
ashen paddles still, ready to dip them into
the current at the first sign of danger.
Without any command, the man at the
helm pushed the rudder around, so that the
bow of the largest ship slowly swung about,
and it headed towards the canoe. The
moment the occupants of the latter saw the
fearful thing bearing down upon them they
bent to their work with desperate energy,
the craft skimming over the surface like a
swallow. Captain Smith, smiling grimly,
made a tunnel of one hand, and emitted a
roar like that of an angry bull. The noise
rolled over the smooth surface with terrifying
power. Two of the Indians, in a wild panic,
leaped overboard, and dived and swam in
a frenzy of panic, while the others outsped
them in the headlong haste of their paddling.
Then as the panting fellows scrambled out
on land, the Constant began laboriously
swinging about again, and continued her
course steadily up stream, most of the men
// 165.png
.pn +1
on board who had witnessed the incident
breaking into laughter, which had a strange
sound at that time and in that place.
The three vessels had begun their voyage
up the James the previous day, so that now,
while it was early in the afternoon, they
were fully two score mile from the mouth
of the noble river.
They were approaching the peninsula where
they were to make their final pause, when
the attention of all was turned up stream.
Captain Smith, in his interest brought his
old-fashioned glass to his eye, and scanned the
object that had suddenly taken on such interest
for all. Around a sweeping bend in
the broad river a single canoe shot into sight.
The strange fact about it was that the two
persons in it who must have discovered the
ships the moment they came into their field
of vision, did not turn to the right or left,
but came straight on, as if heading for the
largest boat, which kept in advance of its
companions.
Only one of the Indians was swaying his
paddle. He dipped the blade first on one
side and then on the other, and the sparkling
of the water was plainly seen in the bright
sunlight, as the graceful craft remained in
the middle of the current.
Captain Newport, who also has a glass,
came to within a few paces of where Smith
// 166.png
.pn +1
was standing, closely studying the object.
Although he was jealous of the plain spoken
Smith, and had been, indeed, a party to
his arrest on an absurd charge, he used a
certain friendliness of manner which did not
deceive the bluff fellow.
“Those two warriors have more courage
than their friend,” remarked Newport.
“There is only one warrior in the canoe,”
replied Smith, still keeping the telescope to
his eye; “the other is a woman, and——”
He hesitated as if waiting to feel sure
before saying anything further.
When Newport had spent another minute
or two in studying the boat he said:
“You are right, and the woman is not
an old one.”
“She is not a woman, but a girl.”
“Probably the daughter of the warrior.”
“That cannot be, for he is not much more
than a boy—at most, he is only a young
man.”
“As young as you?”
There was sarcasm in the question, and
it was marked by a grin, which Smith did
not see.
“He is younger in years than I, but not
so young in wisdom as Captain Newport.”
This remark was natural to Captain Smith,
who had little respect for those in authority
when they deserved none. Moreover,
// 167.png
.pn +1
the words were spoken in such loud tones
that twenty others heard them, and, while
they wondered at the boldness of Smith,
they admired him the more. Still further,
their feeling were the same as his, for Christopher
Newport was much less a man in
the true meaning of the word than John Smith.
.sp 2
// 168.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-02
CHAPTER II.||BROTHER AND SISTER
.sp 2
Captain John Smith was right as to the
persons in the canoe which was coming down
the James River and heading for the Sarah
Constant. Seated a little in front of the
middle of the craft, swinging the paddle,
first on one side and then on the other,
was a pleasing-looking Indian youth, who
certainly was not twenty years of age.
While propelling the boat he faced the
vessels down the river. He had the usual
long, coarse black hair of his people, which
dangled about his shoulders, and his face
was stained with the juice of the puccoon,
or blood root. His chest was bare, but his
waist was clasped with a girdle of deerskin,
a shirt falling below to his knees, while
leggings reached to his neat fitting moccasins,
which were ornamented with beads. He was
finely formed and must have been fleet of
foot and a fine warrior, despite his few years.
The most interesting one in the canoe,
however, was the sister of this youth. She
was not more than a dozen years old, and
showed a regularity of feature and beauty
of countenance rarely seen among her race.
// 169.png
.pn +1
You will often hear Indian men and women
spoken of as very handsome, but, in truth,
there are very few worthy of the compliment.
I have traveled among many tribes, and
seen hundreds of the leading warriors and
young women, and among them all were not
ten who could be truly called attractive. I
refer to their countenances, for their grace
of form and movement is striking. But the
high cheek-bones give their faces a lumpy
appearance, their mouths are generally broad,
and the features irregular. Now and then,
however, we meet one whose beauty is
striking because of its contrast with those
around. Such was the fact in the present
case.
The best that could be said of the young
man was that he was pleasing in appearance.
He had fine black eyes—as have all his
race of pure blood—regular, even teeth, and
an expression of brightness and good nature,
but he could not compare with his young
sister. Her features were of almost classical
beauty, and had she been a Caucasian she
would have been admired among any people.
Moreover, her dress was different from
any that had caught the eyes of the observant
Englishmen. Sitting at the bow, with enough
space between her and her brother for
their two long bows and quivers of arrows,
she had thrown back her outer clothing,
// 170.png
.pn +1
which was a robe of doeskin, lined with down
from the breast of the wood-pigeon. She
wore coral bracelets on her wrists and ankles,
and a white plume in her abundant hair.
Her skirt and leggings were similar to
her brother’s, but the upper part of her body
was clothed in a close-fitting jacket of doeskin,
which covered her pretty, plump arms
to the elbow. The comeliness of her face
was not marred by the crimson juice that
her brother used, and which was a favorite
with most of her sex. This girl, who was
growing fast, was a natural athlete, who
could speed like a deer through the woods,
launch an arrow with the accuracy of a veteran
warrior, swim with the grace and swiftness of
a fish, and read the faint signs of the woods
as we read the pages of a printed book.
By and by I shall mention the name of
this famous miss; until then I shall let you
see whether you can guess it. I am sure
every one of you has heard it many times in
the course of your reading of the history of
my country.
Nantaquas, as the young man was named,
and his favorite sister had left their home
a long way up the river, meaning to paddle
down stream, and probably call upon some
of their friends, when, in rounding a bend
in the stream, they were startled by the
sight of the three vessels, slowly coming up
// 171.png
.pn +1
the river with their white sails spread, and
their decks crowded by strangely-dressed
men, studying the shores between which
they were gliding in their immense “canoes.”
The sight, as well may be supposed, filled
the two with amazement. Nantaquas
stopped paddling for a minute or two, while
both gazed at the sight. To them, in their
forest home on the banks of the James,
had come vague rumors of a people who
lived far beyond the Great Water, whose
skins were of a much lighter color than their
own, and whose canoes were like giant birds,
which were able to sail in safety when the
storms drove the craft of the red men to
shelter. Runners from the tribes to the far
south had brought most of these stories.
It is on record that Captain John Smith
once met a party of Iroquois who were
exploring this region. In their distant homes
in Central New York they had heard the
same strange accounts of white men and
their ships, and the Iroquois brought the
tidings to the tribes in Virginia.
So, as I have said, when Nantaquas
and his sister saw the three vessels coming
up the James River they had a fair idea of
their nature, and of the meaning of this
visit to the region which never before had
known the tread of the pale-faced race.
The girl was lively, curious, and full of faith
// 172.png
.pn +1
in human nature—far more so than most
of her people.
When she had looked for several minutes
in silent amazement at the craft, and noted
the forms of men on the decks, she said:
“Why are they coming to the country
of Powhatan?”
“I know not,” replied her brother, resuming
the sway of his paddle, but more
gently than before, and turning his head as
he spoke, that she might hear him more
plainly; “it may be they mean to take
away our hunting grounds.”
The other laughed.
“How can that be, when the warriors of
Powhatan are like the leaves on the trees,
and they are eager to do his will? There is
but a handful of the pale-faces; surely we
have nothing to fear from them; Nantaquas,
let us visit the big canoes.”
The proposal struck the youth so favorably
that he increased the speed of his craft,
and, as has already been shown, drew rapidly
near the Sarah Constant, whose passengers
and crew watched the approach of the graceful
birchen structure with keen curiosity.
As Nantaquas sped down stream, however,
he was thinking hard, and he began to ask
himself questions, which showed a doubt of
the wisdom of carrying out the wishes of
his sister. He believed that any people
// 173.png
.pn +1
who were treated kindly, and in whom confidence
was shown, would give the same
treatment to those that were good to them.
She would not have feared to climb the
side of the big canoe and welcome the white
men. She knew they had much greater
knowledge than her own people; and, though
she and her brother had no food or presents
to offer the visitors, they could show their
friendship towards them.
But Nantaquas was wise beyond his years.
He recalled that the stories which he had
heard of the white men were not to their
credit. Some of them had slain Indians
as though they were wild animals; they had
treated them with great cruelty, and repaid
kindness with brutality. The reason that
such reports came to Nantaquas was that
they were brought by visitors from the south,
where the Spanish had made settlements.
The story of their colonization of the United
States and Mexico was stained by many dreadful
crimes, which might well make the youth
hesitate to trust himself or his sister in their
power. They were likely, he thought, to
carry one or both off as prisoners or demand
a large price for their ransom. So it was,
that as Nantaquas drew near the Sarah
Constant, he gradually slackened his speed,
until he finally held his paddle motionless,
// 174.png
.pn +1
and allowed the canoe to come to rest with
much space still between the two crafts.
By this time everyone on the three vessels
was intently watching the little canoe and
its occupants. Sails were still hoisted, and
the vessels kept moving slowly up stream,
the tide being at its turn. On either shore
were gathered staring groups of Indians,
men, women, and even children, whose
emotions were as stirring as those of the
white men on the larger craft. The face of
the pretty young girl in the canoe glowed,
for never had she gazed upon so wonderful
a picture. Scores of men in their peaked
hats, several of which were adorned with flowing
plumes, their short coats clasped about
the waist with broad girdles, with a huge
buckle in front, the short breeches ending
at the knees, with the heavy stockings below,
and, more than all, the tanned countenances,
some of which were covered with shaggy
beards, made up a picture that might well
hold the two wondering spectators almost
breathless.
Nantaquas checked his boat when a hundred
yards from the largest vessel. Inasmuch
as that kept moving, he dallied with
his paddle just enough to hold his graceful
craft abreast. Captain John Smith, the famous
navigator, Bartholomew Gosnold, Wingfield,
Newport, Ratcliffe, Martin and Kendall—all
// 175.png
.pn +1
of whom had been named as Councillors
by King James—were at the rail
of the Sarah Constant, looking off and down
at the visitors, who, although they had come
so close, hesitated to draw nearer to the vessel.
Captain Smith called in his bass, resonant
welcome:
“Welcome! Welcome! Will you not come
that we may shake hands with you and break
bread together?”
Of course, not a word of this was understood
by Nantaquas and his sister, but the
beckoning gestures of more than one man
formed a language whose meaning was plain.
The girl asked her brother impatiently:
“Why do you hesitate? They wish to
greet us; you are ungrateful.”
There was decision in the tones of the
youth: “They are strangers; we have heard
evil things of many of them; we shall go
no nearer.”
She knew it was useless to argue with
him when he was in such a mood. She
pouted, but said no more. Since the gestures
gave a clue to the meaning of the words
of invitation, Nantaquas raised one hand,
palm outward, and waved it towards the
ship. He meant it as a courteous refusal to
accept the invitation, and, that there might
be no mistake as to his meaning, he suddenly
dipped his paddle deep in the water, and
// 176.png
.pn +1
sent the canoe skimming up stream. His
companion continued in displeased silence,
and the men on the ship repeated their
gestures of welcome, though they knew they
would remain unheeded.
Only one of the Englishmen noticed a
peculiar thing at this moment. Nothing
seemed to escape the keen eyes of Captain
Smith. Shifting his glance from the little
boat speeding up stream, he looked to the
left, or south. The shore was a long distance
away, for the river is very wide at this point,
and he saw a thin column of smoke filtering
upwards from among the trees on a wooded
elevation, a little way inland. It was not
an ordinary column of vapor, such as burning
brushwood makes, but it had a wavy motion
from side to side. The same clear vision
which noted this, noted also that the column
of smoke was broken so as to show two distinct
gaps between the base and the top,
where it melted into the clear atmosphere
against the blue sky beyond.
There could be no question that a signal
fire had been kindled on the slight elevation,
and that the peculiar look of the vapor
was a message sent by someone to someone
else, who, probably, was far in the depths
of the wilderness. Who should read its
meaning? No white man certainly, though
// 177.png
.pn +1
he for whose eyes it was meant would have
no trouble in understanding it.
Captain Smith glanced from face to face
around him, and saw that none had noticed
the proceedings. He said nothing, for no one
could instruct him; but the shrewd fellow
was certain in his own mind that, whatever
the message might be, it had to do with
the white men who were sailing up the great
river, hunting for a spot upon which to find
the first real settlement in the New World.
Nantaquas plied the paddle like one who
could never tire. He had been trained in
the ways of the woods from the time he was
able to walk. He had come a long distance
down stream on this glowing day in May,
and the exercise of propelling the canoe
might be kept up for hours without weariness
on his part. The same may be said of his
companion, for she had proved it many a
time, and would have proved it in the
present instance, had her brother permitted;
but he showed no such wish, and, after passing
above the bend which shut the strange
picture from sight, he kept up the same
machine-like swaying of the arms, until they
had traversed a goodly number of miles,
and the beauteous spring afternoon was
drawing to a close.
And, throughout this long interval, neither
he nor his sister spoke. She was displeased
// 178.png
.pn +1
because of his refusal to take her aboard
the big canoe, and, though she loved him
too dearly to feel anything in the nature of
real anger, she meant he should know that,
in her opinion, he had acted the churl. He
understood her feeling, and wisely gave her
time to rally from it. Indian though he
was, he shared with her a certain waggish
disposition which often showed itself. He
did several things that may seem strange in
one of his race. The bow and stern of the
canoe were similar, so that it could go in
one direction as well as the other. He was
seated just beyond the middle, facing the
course it was following, while the girl, having
gathered her robe about her shoulders as
the chill of the coming evening made itself
felt, was at the stern. As she looked at
her brother she saw his back, and noted the
action of the coppery arms as they swung
the paddle with perfect skill.
She was gazing absently at the mass of
black hair dangling about his shoulders,
thinking, no doubt, how “horrid” he had
been, when he abruptly paused, turned,
looked straight into her face, and made a
comical grimace. He did not speak, and
immediately resumed his paddling. She
pouted more than before, turned up her
pretty nose, and stared to the left at the
wooded shore. Ten or fifteen minutes later
// 179.png
.pn +1
he repeated his action, except that he continued
grimacing and chuckling, as if determined
to make her smile. She flushed and
strove hard to keep her cross countenance,
but could not. She laughed, in spite of herself,
but, as he resumed paddling, she reached
forward, caught hold of a strand of his hair,
and pulled it, taking pains to jerk upwards,
so as to make sure it hurt. It was a vigorous
pull, but Nantaquas acted as if unaware
that anything of the kind had taken place,
and the girl, as if sorry for her petty outburst,
sat back again and looked in a more
kindly way at the big brother whom she
loved so dearly.
None the less she was planning how she
could punish him for his disregard of her
wishes. By and by the sparkle of her black
eyes told that she had hit upon a scheme.
She was impatient for the moment to come,
though, in the nature of things, it was already
at hand.
Within the following half-hour Nantaquas
turned the prow of the canoe towards the
northern shore, gradually slackening his work
as it sped to land. Just before touching
the bank he made a long sweep with the
paddle, which turned the craft around, and
then reversed the propulsion, so as to land
the girl first. Instead of stepping out before
// 180.png
.pn +1
her, he gave that honor, as was befitting to
the imperious young woman.
And as he did so the same young woman,
with a thrill of pleasure, saw that her moment
of revenge had come!
.sp 2
// 181.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-03
CHAPTER III.||FATHER AND DAUGHTER
.sp 2
The canoe had not yet touched the land,
when the girl leaped out as lightly as a fawn,
not pausing to pick up her bow and quiver,
lying in the bottom of the boat beside those
of her brother. Facing about, she grasped
the front of the craft with both hands, as
if to draw it up the bank beyond reach of
the action of the tide.
Almost at the same moment Nantaquas
laid his dripping paddle beside the implements,
and rose partly to his feet, bending
over to gather up the bows and arrows. In
the act of doing so, and while his body was
in a stooping posture, the girl gave a lightning-like,
sideways jerk to the boat, snapping
it forward like a flash, for a distance of fully
two feet. The youth had no thought of
anything of the kind, and yet, knowing his
sister as well as he did, he ought to have
been prepared. Thrown so suddenly off
his balance, he went backward over the
side of the canoe, which narrowly escaped
upsetting; and, as his heels kicked in the air
and he vainly threw out his arms to save
himself, he dropped out of sight in water
twenty feet deep.
// 182.png
.pn +1
The girl screamed with delight. Her
scheme had worked to perfection; she had
punished her brother as she planned, and
as he deserved. Down, down he went,
before he could right himself and get his
bearings. Then his head popped up, he
blew the water from his mouth, and one or
two powerful strokes brought him to land.
Scrambling to his feet, he made for the
laughing girl. He was not angry, for he
admired her brightness, but—wait till he
could lay hands on the mischievous sprite!
But she was not yet caught. Brimming
over with fun, she darted into the wood,
with him in headlong pursuit. Perhaps on
the open plain, in a straightaway chase, he
might have overtaken her, though it is by
no means certain; but she was quicker than
he in dodging, turning, and doubling. With
one hand outstretched, and seemingly about
to grasp an arm or shoulder, his fingers
closed on vacancy, as she whisked to one
side, and, waiting until he repeated the
attempt, she slipped again beyond reach.
Like a civilized girl, she kept screaming and
laughing while thus engaged, glancing continually
over her shoulder, and baffling her
pursuer at the very moment that success
seemed certain.
All the time she was heading toward
her home, not far off in the woods, while he,
// 183.png
.pn +1
forgetful of the implements left behind in
the canoe, kept up his efforts to lay hands
on her. He would not believe he could
fail, and she nurtured the self-delusion on
his part, encouraging him once or twice by
allowing the outstretched hand to touch
her robe, though it could never grip it fairly.
Suddenly, just as he held his breath ready
to leap forward and pounce upon her, and
it looked as if nothing could save the fugitive,
she did a very clever thing. She darted
across a spot in the woods where the ground
was covered with many running vines. She
did this, but he was too earnest in the pursuit
to notice danger. She led him on, and
again his hand shot out almost over her shoulder,
when he caught his moccasin in one of
the vines, that was like so many yards
of fine steel wire, and sprawled forward
on his face, with a force that drove the
breath from his body, and seemed to make the
earth shake with the shock.
And then she could run no farther, from
very excess of merriment. Pressing one
hand against the nearest tree-trunk to support
her, she laughed until she could hardly
stand. He slowly climbed to his feet and
shook his head. She was not assured that
he had given up the chase, and held herself
ready to bound away again, when both
// 184.png
.pn +1
abruptly paused at the discovery that a
third party had appeared on the scene.
Two or three rods in advance, on the
same line the two had been pursuing, stood
a tall Indian, fully six feet in stature, motionless,
and surveying the couple with an enquiring
expression. He was three score years
of age, his long locks were sprinkled with
grey, and his face was stern and seamed by
the passage of the many stormy years. He
was thin almost to emaciation, but the fire
burned in the black eyes as fiercely as when
he first went on the warpath. He was
dressed much like the younger warrior, except
that the upper part of his body was
encased in a jacket similar to that of the
girl, and his countenance was unstained. In
the girdle about his waist were thrust a long
knife and the handle of a tomahawk, but he
carried no bow and quiver. Standing rigidly
upright, with his coppery face like that of a
stone image, he looked sternly at the two.
Hardly had the girl caught sight of him,
when she ran forward, and, throwing both
arms about his waist, called out in pretended
panic:
“Father, save me from Nantaquas! He
means to kill me!”
Laying one hand fondly on the wealth
of hair about his chest, the parent gazed
at the young man and demanded:
// 185.png
.pn +1
“What is the meaning of these strange
actions?”
Standing in his garments, still wet from
his recent upset, the smiling son pointed
to his sister.
“She will tell Powhatan her story.”
The American Indian has the reputation
of being stoical. It is true that he will
bear the most poignant anguish and torture
without a sign of suffering. He is trained
to suppress his emotions, especially before
strangers, but there are no persons in the
world who love their children more affectionately;
and when beyond the sight of strangers
they often indulge in expressions of that
love.
The chieftain of whom I am now speaking
was the most famous Indian connected with
the colonial history of Virginia. He was
Powhatan, one of the sternest and most
unflinching leaders of his race. He ruled
over numerous tribes, nearly all of whom
he had conquered and brought under his
sway. From Virginia to the far south none
was his equal. He had several homes, at
each of which he lived a part of every year,
and was always surrounded when at any
of them by a strong guard, numbering forty
or fifty of his tallest warriors.
Since you have learned that Powhatan
was the father of the two who now stood
// 186.png
.pn +1
before him, there is no longer any excuse for
keeping back the name of the girl, for I am
sure you guessed it long ago. She was
Pocahontas, pretty, bright, and kind hearted,
and the favorite of the terrible Powhatan,
who permitted any liberties from her, and
rarely refused her a request which he could
gratify. Nantaquas was another favorite,
though he had other sons who were well
worthy of their father’s fame.
Releasing herself from the embrace of
her parent, Pocahontas stepped back a couple
of paces, and with sparkling eyes and glowing
face told Powhatan about the incident
that had sent her flying from before her
brother. It would have done your heart
good to see those iron features relax as
the sachem listened to the delightful story.
Although well advanced in years, and a stoic
by training, he could not wholly forget the
time when he was such a youth as that son
who stood a little way back, with arms
folded, listening to the words of his sister,
and never offering objection.
Powhatan extended his arms, and as
Pocahontas stepped impulsively forward, he
placed a hand under each of her elbows, and
tossed her like a feather several feet up in
the air. As she came down he caught her
in his grasp, held her closely to him, and
fondled her hair and patted her dusky
// 187.png
.pn +1
cheek; while she, in turn, reached up and
patted his wrinkled face. No father and
child could have loved each other more truly
than Powhatan and Pocahontas.
But the grim parent did not permit himself
to indulge long in his caresses of the one
so dear to him. Again patting her head,
he said:
“Let my child go to her home; Powhatan
has something he would say to Nantaquas.”
She obediently turned away. Her course
carried her behind the sachem, who had
withdrawn all attention from her. Pausing
an instant, she looked at her brother, who
was still standing with folded arms, and who
turned to glance at her the moment she
halted, curious to learn the cause. He was
quickly informed, for standing thus, where
no one else saw her, she made the same comical
grimace at him that he made at her
when paddling the canoe. He suddenly
started towards her, but took only a step,
when she was off like a bird. Powhatan
turned his head, but caught only a glance of
the handsome robe, the white plume, and the
twinkling moccasins, as they flitted from
sight.
You will bear in mind that in giving the
conversations between the various Indians
who pass before us, I use the utmost liberality
in translation. As a rule, their sentences
// 188.png
.pn +1
are short, and often ornamented with striking
figures of speech. They sound stiff, and are
sometimes hard to understand by those not
accustomed to them. It will be better,
therefore, to try to put their meaning in the
form which you use in your conversation.
Hardly had Pocahontas darted from sight,
when the chieftain said to his son:
“The pale-faces have come across the
Deep Water to the hunting-grounds of Powhatan
and his people.”
“Yes; we met them on the river in their
big canoes; they spoke words, though we did
not understand what they said, nor could
they know the meaning of our words. They
have come to make their homes among us.”
The remark of the chieftain proved that
the signal fire, of which mention has been
made, was not only meant for him, but that
he read the message. It seems strange that
so much could be told by the fashioning of the
thin column of smoke rising from a small fire
kindled on the crest of a slight elevation;
but such means of telegraphy have been used
by the American Indians for centuries, and
the speed with which they send tidings across
wide stretches of country almost surpasses
belief. It is only a few years since that an
important treaty was signed by the United
States Government agents with a number
of tribes in the West. The parties were so
// 189.png
.pn +1
far removed from the nearest telegraph station
that the news did not reach Washington
until three days later; yet it was known to
tribes four and five hundred miles distant the
afternoon of the day of signing, and within a
few hours after the signatures were written.
The message was signalled from mountain
peak to mountain peak, across wide stretches
of prairie, and hundreds of warriors discussed
the matter long before their chiefs set out for
their distant homes.
So in the case of Powhatan, chief of many
tribes, who knew of the coming of the white
men while they were sailing up the James, and
for several days before he saw any one of them.
It is easy to understand how an ordinary
message, relating to simple affairs, can be
carried by the means named, but it is wonderful
how news, unlike any that had ever before
been sent across an expanse of forest, could
have been read by the sachem and others for
whom it was meant.
Powhatan left no doubt that he was deeply
displeased by the appearance of the white
men, where they had never before set foot.
They had come into the heart of the country
which belonged to him, and he was too wise
to fail to see the meaning of the visit.
“They will come to land, and build their
wigwams; they will till the ground, and hunt
the game in the woods; by and by others will
// 190.png
.pn +1
come and make their homes beside them; and
they will keep on coming, till they are like
the leaves on the trees; we have heard from
the red men of the south that they bring
strange weapons; that they shoot fire, and
slay men who are far beyond the reach of our
bows and arrows; all the pale-faces are alike;
they will kill the red men or drive them into
the sea, until none is left.”
“The words of Powhatan are wise,” said
Nantaquas respectfully; “I am afraid of
them, and would not trust Pocahontas in
their power.”
“My son did right; she is but a child; she
must stay away from them.”
“And what shall be done with the pale-faces?”
asked Nantaquas, who understood the dark
expression of his father. “Shall they be left
alone when they go ashore, that their numbers
may increase—though I do not think
they have any women with them?”
“When the serpent is small, a child may
crush it under the heel of her moccasin, but,
if left to grow, it will soon sting her to death.”
The meaning of these words was plain;
Powhatan intended to destroy the weak colony
before the white men could send for other
friends to sail across the Great Water. Few
even though they were, the work should be
hard and dangerous, when so little was known
of the real nature of their fearful weapons;
// 191.png
.pn +1
but, no doubt, the thousands of warriors that
Powhatan could summon to the task would
do it well, thus crushing the danger in the bud.
Powhatan, like most of his race, was a man
of few words. Having made known his resolve,
he ordered his son to lead the way to
where the canoe had been left on the bank of
the stream. When it was reached he stepped
within, and, instead of seating himself at the
stern, took his place at the bow. It would
have been sacrilege for Nantaquas to suggest
that the chieftain who is referred to by historians
as “Emperor” should use the paddle.
No vassal could have been meeker than the
son when he headed down the river, handling
the oar with the same skill that he had shown
earlier in the day.
By this time the afternoon was drawing to
a close, but there was a bright moon in the
sky, which lit up the broad, smooth surface of
the James as if it were day. The sachem sat
silent and erect, with no appearance of curiosity,
but the keen eyes, which pierced the
gathering gloom, did not let the smallest
object escape them. Passing around the
long, sweeping bend that has been described,
the large vessel and two smaller ones came
into view, lying at anchor, within a short
distance of shore. It might have been
thought that the emigrants had come to rest,
to wait till the morrow before going farther
// 192.png
.pn +1
up stream, had not smaller boats been seen
passing to and fro between the ships and the
land. But more still was soon learned.
Although from what Nantaquas and Pocahontas
had told it would seem that little was
to be feared at present from these unwelcome
visitors, the life of Powhatan was too precious
to permit any unnecessary risk to be run.
He ordered his son to go a little nearer, holding
himself ready to make instant flight when told
to do so. Thus edging up, they were able to
see three or four tents on a small peninsula,
jutting out from the northern shore. The
white men from across the sea had already
landed and begun the first lasting English
settlement in the New World.
Nantaquas would have liked to visit the
newcomers, now that his sister was not with
him, but Powhatan would not allow it, and,
at his command, he turned the head of the
canoe up stream, before it had attracted notice,
and paddled hurriedly from the place.
As before, the chieftain did not speak, even
after the boat had been run to land and
drawn up the beach. He stepped out, and,
with the majesty that was rarely or never
absent, strode through the wilderness to his
lodge or native “palace,” with his son walking
silently at the rear. Arrived there, he held a
long council with his under chiefs and leading
warriors. The plans for the destruction of
// 193.png
.pn +1
the colony were fixed; but before he slept that
night Pocahontas drew from him all that had
been agreed upon, and she did not rest until
he had given his promise to defer the fearful
work. He would not pledge himself to do
more than postpone his purpose, but such
postponement was of the greatest importance
to the welfare of the little colony.
.sp 2
// 194.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-04
CHAPTER IV.||A CALL OF STATE
.sp 2
The three small ships with their one hundred
and five men sailed up the James River, until
they had reached a point some fifty miles
from its mouth, when their interest was drawn
to a low peninsula, which put out from the
northern shore. It was a bad site for a settlement,
because it was half covered with water
at high tide. Since those days it has become
an island; but it looked so pleasing to the men
who had been tossed on the stormy ocean for
so many months, that it was taken as their
new home. Anchor was dropped, the smaller
boats began taking the emigrants and their
belongings to shore, and there, on May 13th,
1607, was founded Jamestown, which, as I
have already stated, was the first lasting
settlement planted by the English in the New
World.
Sad to say, nearly three quarters of a century
later, when the colony was torn by civil
strife, Jamestown was burned to the ground,
and never rebuilt. All that remains are the
ruins of an old church tower and a few mouldering
tombstones. These are rapidly crumbling;
// 195.png
.pn +1
the waves dash mournfully against the
shore; the sea-fowl flit past; and ere many
years come and go all traces of the famous
town will have disappeared.
As the English went ashore they pitched
their tents, but the season was so mild that
they found it more agreeable to make their
homes for the time under the verdant foliage
of the trees while building their cabins.
These were put up on the neck of the peninsula,
and before long the place took on the
appearance of a community. It is a pleasure
to recall that these people were good churchmen,
and from the hour of their landing gave
strict attention to the duties of religion. The
first place of public worship in America
was a ragged tent. An awning was stretched
among the trunks of trees, and a bar, fastened
between two of these, served as a reading
desk. At this Mr. Hunt read the Service
morning and evening, preached twice each
Sunday, and, at intervals of three months,
celebrated the Holy Communion. When he
was prevented through illness or other causes,
Captain John Smith or some of his associates
read the service.
As soon as the hurry of work was over, a
structure was put up. Of course, it was of
modest size and build, but when Lord Delaware
arrived three years later, he records
that this first religious edifice built by Englishmen
// 196.png
.pn +1
in America was sixty feet long and twenty
four feet wide.
It would seem that the best of beginnings
had been made, for trees were felled, cabins
built, and a church erected; but a woeful
mistake lay in the character of the men themselves.
Very few had the least fitness for
pioneer work. When the box was opened in
which King James had sealed the names of
the first seven Councillors, all but two of
those selected proved grossly unfit. These
two were Bartholomew Gosnold and John
Smith. Gosnold soon died, and Smith had
not been freed from arrest on the charge of
plotting against the colony. Edward Maria
Wingfield was chosen first president, but he
was lazy, self-indulgent, and seemed to be
able to think of nothing except Smith and his
plots for placing himself at the head of affairs.
The other Councillors were no better than he,
and the prospect of Jamestown was dark.
This sad unfitness was not confined to the
rulers. More than half the men were ranked
as “gentlemen,” which in those times meant
persons who did not do manual labor. The
wild rumors of the abundance of gold in the
New World drew them across the ocean.
They believed that it would take only a short
time to load the three vessels with the yellow
metal, when they would return to England
and live in luxury for the rest of their days.
// 197.png
.pn +1
You naturally find that most of those who
toiled for a living were jewelers and gold-refiners.
Sturdy, rugged, honest John Smith saw all
this with anger and disgust. He knew what
was surely coming, and calmly waited for it
to come. Although shut out from the Council,
he did not sulk, though he felt the injustice.
“By and by they will ask for me,” he thought,
as he went vigorously to work. He impressed
upon his friends the necessity of keeping on
good terms with the Indians. The season
was far advanced, but corn was planted with
the certainty that it would ripen fast in that
favoring climate and soil. But the food
brought over the ocean would not last more
than two or three months, when it would be
necessary to obtain supplies from the Indians.
If they chose to withhold it, it would go ill
with the white men.
Now if you will look at your map again,
you will note the situation of Jamestown on
the northern shore. Tracing the course of
the James River towards its source, you will
observe the city of Richmond, the capital of
Virginia, on the same side of the river, but
well up in Henrico county. Below the site
of Richmond, in the direction of Jamestown,
was the principal residence of Powhatan,
chief of thirty tribes, his own immediate tribe
being scattered inland and along the river to
// 198.png
.pn +1
the south and east. It was a two-day’s journey
between the village of Powhatan and Jamestown.
Distrustful of the old chief’s temper towards
them, Captain Smith and a party of his
men took the first chance to sail up the river
and pay a formal visit to the Emperor of the
country. The name of the town itself was
Powhatan, from which fact the same title
has been given to the famous chieftain, whose
Indian name was different. The aboriginal
capital stood on a small hill, and numbered
twelve houses, in front of which were three
small islands in the river. The “palace”
was a large, native structure of bark and
skins, with a sort of bedstead at one side, on
which Powhatan sat. With his majestic mien,
his robe of raccoon skins, and the feathers in
his grizzly hair, he suggested a king upon his
throne.
When Smith and two of his companions
were brought into the presence of this Emperor
the scene was striking. Along each
wall of the dwelling stood two rows of young
women at the rear, and two rows of men in
front of them. The faces and shoulders of all
the females were stained with the red juice
of the puccoon, and a number wore chains of
white beads about their necks. Almost any
man would have been embarrassed when introduced
into the presence of royalty of this
// 199.png
.pn +1
character. Smith’s companions were mute,
but he was too much a man of the world
to betray any fear. He doffed his hat, made
a sweeping bow, and addressed the old chieftain
with as much outward respect as if he
had been, indeed, the King of England.
One of the most marked proofs of the
ability of Captain John Smith was that during
his brief stay in Virginia he had been able
to pick up enough knowledge of the Powhatan
tongue to make himself fairly well understood,
being helped thereto by his gestures,
of which he was master. There had been
Indian visitors from the first at Jamestown.
All were treated so well that several spent
much of their time at the settlement, studying
the white men and their ways with never-ending
interest. Smith became a hard student,
and was thus able to tell Powhatan that
he and the other pale-faces had come across
the Great Water with feelings only of love for
him and his people. They had no wish to
take away their hunting-grounds, not to kill
their game, nor to do them harm in any way.
He hinted that the whites might prove to be
of great help to Powhatan, for they brought
strange and deadly weapons with them,
which they would be glad to use in aiding him
to conquer other tribes of Indians.
Captain Smith was a man of rare tact, but
he blundered when he made this offer to the
// 200.png
.pn +1
old Emperor. It said, in truth, that Powhatan
was not able to do his own conquering
of rebellious tribes. Such was the power and
self-confidence of this sachem, that any hint
that he could need help in carrying out his own
will was an insult to him.
Smith was quick to see his mistake, and
did what he could to correct it, but he did
not succeed. Powhatan was sour, and nothing
was clearer than that he felt no good will
toward those who had dared to make their
homes in his country. He pretended not to
understand the broken sentences of his visitor,
until after one of his warriors had helped to
interpret them. Having met with no success,
Smith and his friends withdrew and set sail
down the river for Jamestown.
During the interview both he and his companions
used their eyes in searching for the
youth and the girl who had met them when
first on their way up the James. But neither
Nantaquas nor Pocahontas was present, a
fact which proved they were absent from the
town, for, were it not so, nothing would have
kept them from the “palace” on such and an
interesting occasion.
The boat in which the Englishmen had
sailed up the river had to lie by for one cloudy
night while on the way, and now the explorers
found themselves overtaken by darkness,
when hardly half the return voyage was made.
// 201.png
.pn +1
But the sky was clear, and again they were
favored with a bright moon, which so lit up
the stream that they kept on their course,
with the prospect of reaching home quite
early the next day.
While one of the men held the old-fashioned
tiller, with nothing to do but to keep
the boat well away from shore, Smith sat at
the bow, thoughtfully smoking a long-stemmed
pipe which he had bought from one of the
friendly Indians who often visited Jamestown.
The others of his associates were
doing the same at a little distance, for most
of the English were quick to learn the habit
from the red men. The night was so still
that a single sail hardly felt the touch of the
gentle breeze, and only now and then did the
faint ripple at the bow show that the boat
was making any progress toward Jamestown.
Captain Smith had many things to vex and
trouble him. He was angry when he thought
of the injustice under which he suffered, and
the worthlessness of those named to rule the
colony. With the coming of the hot, sultry
southern summer all prudence seemed to
leave the settlers. They drank deeply of the
unwholesome water, and the mists that
brooded over the neighboring swamps were
heavy with malaria, which had already laid
a number on their backs, with more than
one fatal issue threatened.
// 202.png
.pn +1
Those who kept healthy thought it too uncomfortable
to toil when the hot sun was
overhead, and as twilight and night drew near,
the day was too far gone to make it worth
while to labour. They would not be roused
early enough in the day to do anything of
account, though most of them did make a
pretense of hoeing the corn, of which several
acres were growing. Wingfield, the president,
set the example of indolence, and instead of
being moderate in eating, acted as if there
never could come an end to the food that had
been brought across the sea, and which was
already nearly exhausted. What the colony
needed above everything else was a stern,
rigorous, wise head, and it is no reproach to
Captain Smith that he said to himself: “I
am the only man for the time; but they have
tied my hands, though they shall not be tied
long.”
While the future looked so dark, he was
more disturbed by the present, or what might
be called the near future. He saw in the
glum, resentful manner of Powhatan something
more than displeasure with the presence
of the white men. Holding such great power
as did the chieftain, he was not likely to remain
quiet much longer. He could not but
know of the growing weakness of the colonists,
who were short of food, with much sickness
// 203.png
.pn +1
among them, and the certainty that before
long they would be at the mercy of the Indians.
Smith wondered why an attack had not
been made upon the settlement long before.
With the vast body of warriors that Powhatan
could summon at his will, they would have
been able to crush the little band of white
men, despite the dreaded firearms at their
command. The pioneer had no idea that the
postponement of such an assault was due to
Pocahontas, nor did he learn the truth until
years afterward.
He looked at the dark, frowning shores on
either hand, stretching in the distance many
miles beyond the farthest extent of vision
when the sun was shining, and thought of the
thousands of warriors who roamed and hunted
through those solitudes, fighting one another,
when, had they been wise enough to unite
their strength, they could bid defiance to any
armed fleet that England might send across
the ocean.
Suddenly a star-like gleam showed on the
southern shore. That it had been kindled
by the Indians was not to be doubted. Watching
it for a minute or so, without seeing anything
more than a glowing point, Smith
turned his face toward the northern bank.
At the moment of doing so he observed an
answering signal, and was not surprised, for
// 204.png
.pn +1
it was natural that such a reply should be
made.
“They are speaking to one another about
our boat, but that is of no concern to me, for
I do not think we have anything to fear from
them.”
He scanned the two shores in the expectation
of seeing other signal fires, but none
showed. Meanwhile the boat made little
headway against the tide, for the gentle
breeze hardly fanned one’s face. Smith rose
to his feet, and with pipe between his lips,
gazed out on the moonlit expanse of river,
not expecting to discover anything unusual,
and yet something of that nature quickly
appeared.
A peculiar flickering toward the northern
shore caught his eye, and while trying to
learn what it meant he saw that the object
was an Indian canoe, in which he soon made
out two persons, with the nearer one swaying
a paddle, while his companion sat quietly at
the stern.
The Captain recalled the sight which
greeted the ships when first coming up the
James. There was the small craft, driven
in the same manner, and with the same number
of persons. Standing erect at the gunwale,
he watched it closely, and a minute or
two later was certain that the two were Nantaquas
and Pocahontas. He had learned of
// 205.png
.pn +1
their identity from the friendly Indians who
came to Jamestown, the plume worn by the
girl being a badge of royalty.
The canoe was passing the bow of the ship,
a hundred yards away, making no attempt to
come nearer. Desiring a talk, Smith called
in his resonant voice:
“Nantaquas! Will you not come aboard?”
The youth appeared to say a few words to
his sister, after which he headed his craft in
the direction of the larger one. A few minutes
would have brought him alongside, when
he was checked by a startling interruption.
Through the stillness sounded a low booming
sound, which rolled up the stream and was
heard faintly to echo between the shores.
There could be no mistaking its meaning:
it was the report of one of the small cannon
on the Sarah Constant, and it meant danger
to Jamestown.
.sp 2
// 206.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-05
CHAPTER V.||A TIMELY ARRIVAL
.sp 2
Through the stillness of the summer night
rolled the sound of the cannon that had been
fired in front of Jamestown, many miles down
the river. The report, which was not repeated,
sent a thrill of alarm through Captain
Smith and his friends, for to them it could
have but one meaning: it had been discharged
because of an attack upon the settlement by
Indians.
The boom, as it traveled up the broad
stream, carried the same tidings to the son
and daughter of Powhatan, who were drawing
near the large boat in response to the invitation
of him who was returning from his visit
of state to the dusky Emperor. Nantaquas
plied his paddle with renewed vigor, but
instantly sheared away, and instead of keeping
on as he had started, made with all speed for
the northern shore. It was natural to think
that the white men on the larger boat would
undergo an instant change of feelings when
the alarming sound fell upon their ears.
Indeed, the youth expected a volley from the
boat, but nothing of the kind was in the mind
of Captain Smith, who did not interfere while
// 207.png
.pn +1
the canoe and its occupants rapidly passed
from sight.
Smith walked hurriedly to the stern, where
the others had gathered about the steersman.
“The settlement has been attacked,” said
the captain in his quick, crisp manner.
“Listen!”
All stood silent and motionless for several
minutes. The Sarah Constant had three such
pieces on board, fitted for good service, and
Smith repeated that if it was necessary to
discharge one of them, the urgency was
equally great for the firing of the remainder.
Be that as it may, the straining ears heard no
second report, though the listening was long,
and was repeated at intervals for a couple of
hours later.
Naturally, the certainty that there was
grave trouble at Jamestown intensified the
impatience of Smith and his friends to reach
the place as soon as they could. If their help
was not needed, he knew his was, and he
could not get there too quickly; but the fates
were against him for the time. The wind,
which had been dying out ever since sunset,
now wholly ceased, and the rising tide began
to carry them back towards the Indian capital.
The anchor was dropped, and thus the
craft lay at rest, as it must remain for several
hours, awaiting the turn of the tide or perchance
a rising of the wind. Two men were
// 208.png
.pn +1
placed on guard, and Smith and the others
lay down to get such sleep as might come to
them.
The calm lasted throughout the night, and
when daylight came the surface of the James
was as smooth as a summer millpond. The
tide had turned, but moved so sluggishly that
Captain Smith told his skipper to let the
anchor remain for a few hours, all agreeing
that the weather signs foretold a change at or
before that time. They partook sparingly
of the coarse bread which they had brought
with them, adding several mouthfuls of cold
fowl that the Captain had shot a few miles
below the spot on their upward voyage.
His next words caused surprise. He intended
to go to the southern shore with two of
the men, to inquire into the signal fire that
had first caught his eye the night before. He
hoped to learn something of the trouble at
Jamestown, though his chief hope was that
he might find the way to obtain a quantity
of corn, of which his countrymen stood in sore
need. From what Smith had been told, he
knew that a small Indian village was not far
inland. There was reason to hope that
through barter, or possibly, as a last resort,
the display of force, the owners could be made
to part with a goodly supply of food.
A number of gaudy trinkets, beads, ribbons,
fanciful little knives and gewgaws were
// 209.png
.pn +1
bundled up and put in the small boat, the
three men took their places, with the Captain
at the stern, while each of the others began to
swing the oars in the fashion that has been
common since time immemorial. They were
old hands, and rowed in unison, while the
craft headed toward the point which the
Captain had pointed out before starting. In
the hope that some of the warriors would show
themselves, he keenly studied the shore, both
above and below; but if there were any red
men in the neighborhood, they took care that
none should see them.
When the boat touched land the three
stepped out, the two who had used the oars
drawing the boat up the bank, and then
awaited the orders of Captain Smith.
Each man had a knife, a musket, and ammunition.
The guns were of what is known
as the snaphaunce pattern, which took the
place of the clumsy firelock during the previous
century. The weapons were the old
style flintlocks, heavy and cumbersome, but
useful in the hands of those familiar with
them.
It was but natural on the part of Captain
John Smith to feel certain of his superiority
in every respect over any and all of his associates.
This included even marksmanship
and skill in the use of fire arms. It was a common
practice with him when engaging in a
// 210.png
.pn +1
hunt to go away from his companions. If
asked for his reason, he replied that their
presence prevented his success; he could do
much better when alone. As for them, it did
not matter, since they could never hope to be
his equal.
So it was that at the present time he told
his friends to move off together, following the
course of the stream, and never wandering so
far in the woods that they could not easily
make their way back to the water. If they
met any Indians or made any important discovery
they were to halloo at the top of their
voices, and he would make haste to them and
take charge of things. As for him, he would
decide every question as it came up. It becomes
necessary for us to give our attention
to the two men, while we leave the doughty
Captain for a time to himself.
The only sign of the recent presence of
others on the spot was the heap of ashes left
by the signal fire. This had been kindled
within a few feet of the stream, where there
was no vegetation to hide the rays. The
trinkets which all hoped could be used for
barter were left in the boat. Thus it will be
seen that Smith did not mean that either he
or his friends should go far from the spot.
It was not strange that the name of one of
the couple was also Smith, for we know that
the name is the most common among civilized
// 211.png
.pn +1
people. I know a city of my own country
in which I read in the directory exactly one
hundred and five plain “John Smiths,” and
I doubt not that there are plenty of them in
Great Britain. In the present instance, the
Smith who had helped row the boat was no
relation of the Captain. His companion was
a cousin, remembered as Jack Bertram.
These two moved up-stream—that is, toward
the village of Powhatan. There was
no reason to believe they would come upon
anything of importance by keeping near the
river, where the walking was easy, so they
pushed inland for a number of rods, and then
took a course parallel with the James. The
timber was dense, and the undergrowth so
matted that it was hard to force a passage.
Smith took the lead, thus making the work
less for Bertram, who kept close behind him.
When they had pushed their way for a
brief distance, Smith stopped.
“What good can come of this? Since no
one has been over the land ahead of us, we
cannot overtake anyone.”
“They may be coming from the other
way,” said his companion, less discouraged
because he was not doing such hard work in
the way of traveling.
“Little promise of that. I do not understand
what Captain Smith hopes to learn or
do by this groping through the woods. If we
// 212.png
.pn +1
knew the way to the Indian village we should
go there, and, if they would not give us corn,
take it from them. Ah! I did not look for
this.”
That which caused this exclamation was
the sight of a well-marked trail leading over
the course they were following. Both stopped
to study it more closely.
“It has been made by animals coming to
the river to drink,” said Bertram. “It can
be of no help to us though it may be used also
by persons.”
Smith walked for a few paces, scanning the
path, which soon turned to the left, leaning
farther inland. At the same time the ground
sloped gently upward, showing they were
drawing near an elevation. Suddenly the
leader halted. Glancing up, Bertram saw
the reason for it, and then was as much astonished
as his companion.
Standing in the trail, wonderingly staring
at the couple, was the girl whom they had
seen when the ships were sailing up the James
River weeks before on their way to found the
colony of Jamestown. There was no mistaking
her. She had the same rich robe
about her shoulders, and the same white
plume curling over her mass of black hair that
fell over her pretty shoulders. She carried
her long bow in one hand, and the top of her
quiver of arrows peeped from behind the left
// 213.png
.pn +1
shoulder. Her hands and moccasins were
small, the latter ornamented with colored
beads.
She caught sight of the white men before
they saw her. She must have been coming
over the path, when she observed the figures
and stopped in amazement. On her comely
face the emotion of astonishment was quickly
followed by that of pleasure.
“It is Pocahontas,” whispered Bertram,
at the rear of his friend; “we saw nothing of
her yesterday at the lodge of the old chief,
because she was absent. I wonder what she
is doing here alone?”
“Her friends can’t be far off. But I say,
Jack, this is a godsend.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will see.”
The girl did not wait after observing that
she was seen by the strangers. She knew
where these men had come from, and, shifting
her bow to her left hand as she walked, she
came smilingly forward. She had noticed
the strange custom of the pale-faces when
they met of clasping their hands. Without
pause she reached out her hand to Smith who
was in front, and said to him in broken words:
“How do? how do? Me friend; you friend.”
Smith took the dainty palm, warmly pressed
it, and then gave way to Bertram, as he
stepped up beside him and did the same.
// 214.png
.pn +1
Pocahontas tried to say something more, but
she knew so little of the English language that
neither caught her meaning. It was amusing
to note her sparkling eyes and charming
smile as she saw that too many of her words
were spoken in her own tongue for the men to
understand them. Laughing in her childish
way, she gave up the effort, and stood looking
inquiringly into the bronzed faces before her,
as if asking them to help her out of her trouble.
“Jack,” said Smith in a low voice, “the
Indians have attacked Jamestown; we don’t
know how many of our people they have
killed; we need food; let’s take this daughter
of the old chief and hold her as a hostage.
We will give him the choice of letting us have
all the corn we want, or of having his pet
daughter put to death.”
“I hardly know what to say to that; it
may work the other way.”
“It can’t; Powhatan loves her so much that
he will do anything to keep harm from coming
to her.”
Smith did not wait to argue further, but,
taking a quick step toward the smiling girl,
grasped her upper arm. In answer to her
questioning look, he said:
“Go with us; we take to Jamestown; won’t
hurt.”
The smiles gave way to an expression of
alarm. She held back.
// 215.png
.pn +1
“No. no, no. Me no go; Powhatan feel
bad—much bad.”
“You must go!” said Smith, tightening his
grip. “We not hurt you.”
Bertram stood silent throughout the brief
minutes. While he hardly liked the scheme
that had been sprung so suddenly upon him,
he thought it might turn out well, and therefore,
he did not interfere.
And then Pocahontas, child that she was,
began crying and striving to wrench her arm
free from the iron fingers that had closed
around it. She drew back so strongly that
her feet slid forward beside each other. Had
not Smith used much strength she would
have got away from him. Impatient over
her resistance, he next tried to scare her into
submission. Scowling at her, he said in
savage tones.
“Stop! Come with me, or I kill!”
This, it need not be said, was an idle threat,
for the man had no thought of anything of
the kind, though he was ready to use more
violence to subdue the girl. Probably he
would have struck her, for he was a quick-tempered
man, and was fast losing his patience.
Pocahontas would not stop her resistance,
but as she found her moccasins sliding
over the slippery leaves she struggled harder
than ever, with the tears streaming down her
cheeks. She begged and prayed but all her
// 216.png
.pn +1
words were in her own tongue. In her panic
she could not stop to try to put them in the
language of which she had only slight knowledge.
Captain John Smith had gone but a little
way down stream, when he decided that he
had taken the wrong course. He turned
about and followed after his companions,
coming upon them at the crisis of the struggle
between his namesake and the young daughter
of Powhatan. He paused only an instant,
when he angrily cried out:
“What is the meaning of this?”
The other Smith merely glanced around
at his leader, and kept dragging the captive
along the trail. It was Bertram who hastily
said:
“She is the daughter of Powhatan. We
are going to take her to Jamestown, to hold
her as a hostage, and make the chief give
us what corn——”
Without waiting for anything further, the
Captain sprang forward, calling angrily:
“Let go! Release her!”
Before the amazed fellow could comply,
he was grasped by the back of the collar.
Captain Smith shifted his gun to his right
hand, so as to leave the other free. The
fingers were as those of a giant, and the
scared Englishman let go of the sobbing
prisoner. As he did so the Captain gave a
// 217.png
.pn +1
kick with his goodly right foot, which lifted
his namesake clear off the ground, and sent
him tumbling on his face, his peaked hat
falling off, and his gun flying several yards
away.
“I would do right to kill you!” called
the leader, his face aflame as he glared down
on the fellow, who began climbing shame-facedly
to his feet. “Among all the Indians
in Virginia there is not one so good a friend
of the English as that little girl.”
As he spoke he pointed towards the spot
where she stood a minute before, but she
was not there. She had taken instant advantage
of her release, and fled beyond sight.
.sp 2
// 218.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-06
CHAPTER VI.||AT JAMESTOWN
.sp 2
Captain Smith’s burst of tempestuous
anger was caused, in the first place, by the
unpardonable violence shown to the gentle
Pocahontas, a girl so young that she was
not yet far in her “teens.” In the sweetness
of her nature she had shown perfect
trust in the white men, and, early as it was
in the settlement of Virginia, all knew she
had no feeling but friendship for the people
that had made their homes within the country
of her father, the great Powhatan. What a
rude awakening was hers! What injury it
was likely to do to those who were in sore
need of the good will of the powerful tribes
around them!
A second cause of the Captain’s wrath
was the fact, clear to him, that the outrage,
apart from its wickedness, was the worst
thing possible when viewed as to its results
to the white men themselves. Instead of
alarming Powhatan and forcing him to help
them, it would have the contrary effect. It
would add to his ill will, and lead him to
measures that otherwise might have been
// 219.png
.pn +1
averted. (This, as you shall learn, was
proved some years later, when Captain Argall
stole Pocahontas, and came nigh causing
the complete destruction of Jamestown and
the settlements.)
Not only that, but the immediate results
were sure to be disastrous. It was not to
be supposed that Pocahontas was alone thus
far from her home. She certainly had friends
near at hand, she was already fleeing with
her story; she would reach them in a brief
while, and they would hasten to punish her
enemies.
These thoughts flashed through the mind
of Captain Smith, while the victim of his anger
was slowly climbing to his feet. He took a
step towards his namesake, meaning to strike
him to the earth again, but the man shrank
away, with no word of protest. The Captain
checked himself and said:
“We must hasten to the boat before we
are cut off. Come!”
The fellow picked up his hat and gun,
and Captain Smith led the way at a rapid
stride over the trail and through the dense
undergrowth, till they reached the margin
of the stream, along which they hurried to
the spot where the prow of the craft had
been drawn up the bank. He pushed it
free and stepped within. Instead of seating
himself at the stern, he did so at the bow,
// 220.png
.pn +1
so that he faced the shore they were leaving,
as did the two who hastily sat down and
caught up the oars. The one who was named
Smith was nearest the stern, his companion
being between him and the Captain, with
all three, as has been shown, looking towards
the shore they were fast leaving behind
them.
“Row hard,” said the Captain, “for you
have no time to spare.”
Neither of the men had spoken a word
since the rescue of Pocahontas, and they bent
to their oars with the utmost energy. They
knew they had done wrong, and naught was
left but to obey the command of their leader,
which they did with right good will.
The tide was sweeping down stream so
fast that the craft took a diagonal position
under the impulse of the oar, this being
necessary to hold a direct course to the waiting
boat in midstream. The three had not
reached a point fifty yards from land, when
a young Indian warrior dashed through the
undergrowth into the open space on the
beach. He was Nantaquas, and almost at
his side was his sister Pocahontas. He held
his long bow, firmly gripped in the middle
by his left hand, and had drawn an arrow
from the quiver behind his shoulder, which
was partly fitted to the string of deer-thong.
The girl pointed excitedly to the man Smith
// 221.png
.pn +1
who was rowing, and who was nearer to them
than either of the others. She was showing
the guilty man to her brother, who had
probably asked the question of her.
“Look out!” warned the Captain. “He
means to shoot you!”
The endangered fellow was so flustered
that he broke the regularity of the strokes
of the two, though Jack Bertram strove hard
to catch it again. He kept his eye on the
young warrior, who rigidly straightened his
left arm, with the hand gripping the middle
of the long bow, while he drew the feathered
arrow to its head, and sighted at the alarmed
oarsman.
Captain Smith watched Nantaquas, not
allowing the slightest movement to escape
him. Suddenly he called:
“Down!”
The other Smith instantly flung himself
forward on his face, so that he was hidden
by the low gunwale. Bertram, hardly knowing
what he did, dodged to one side. The
Captain did not stir. He knew he was in
no danger.
At the same moment that the oarsman
went down Nantaquas launched his arrow,
which came with such swiftness that it made
a flickering streak in the sunlight which the
eye could hardly follow. Captain Smith
caught a glimpse of something like the flitting
// 222.png
.pn +1
of a bird’s wing, and the missile flashed
over the very spot where the intended victim
had been sitting an instant before, driven
with such unerring aim that, but for his
quickness, the arrow would have been buried
in his chest.
So great was the power with which the
missile was fired that it seemed to dart
horizontally outward for nearly a hundred
feet beyond the boat before it dipped enough
for the point to drop into the water, where
it turned rapidly over several times, and the
flint-head sank below the surface.
Brief as was the time, the oarsman partly
regained his coolness. He raised his head,
but instead of drawing upon his oars he
dropped them, and reached for the musket
at his feet. His companion kept toiling with
all his strength.
“Drop that!” thundered Captain Smith.
“It would serve you right if you were killed!
Use your oars!”
The two men, in their flurry, forgot to
hold the boat to the right course, so that it
took a more direct one than before. Had
this been done from the first, Nantaquas
could not have launched his arrow without endangering
Captain Smith, since he would
have been in the line of aim. At any moment
the Captain could have shot Nantaquas,
who stood out in the clear view, or either of
// 223.png
.pn +1
his companions could have done the same,
but the leader would not allow it. He sympathized
with the “prince,” and though he
did not care to have the offender slain, he
would not permit any injury to be done to
Nantaquas.
The youth had fitted another arrow to his
bow, and now drew it to the head. The
keen eyes of Captain Smith noted every
movement. He saw that after drawing his
right hand half-way back, Nantaquas held
it stationary. He saw that if he fired again,
and the man serving as his target dodged,
the arrow was likely to strike Captain Smith,
unless he was equally quick in eluding it.
Moreover, the distance was increasing so
fast that every second added to the difficulty
of the shot. He knew which man had befriended
Pocahontas, and eager as he was
to slay the criminal, he must forego that
pleasure in order to spare the friend.
Holding the long bow poised for a few
seconds, he slowly lowered it, still keeping
the notch of the arrow pressed against the
string, as if expecting a new chance to present
itself. If the boat would turn partially
sideways toward him, as at first, he might
still bring down his man; but the oarsman
had learned wherein their safety lay, and
took care to make no mistake.
All this time the boat was moving rapidly,
// 224.png
.pn +1
and it was not long before it passed beyond
bowshot.
Nantaquas remained standing in full view
on the shore, his sister beside him, both
watching the receding craft until it came
alongside the large one, and the three stepped
aboard, leaving the small boat to be towed
at the stern. Then brother and sister turned
about, and passed from sight in the forest.
A brisk breeze was blowing, and Captain
Smith and his companions had hardly joined
their friends when the anchor was hoisted,
and they were carried at good speed toward
Jamestown, which they reached early that
afternoon. There they learned that the settlement
had passed through a trying experience
during the absence of Captain Smith
and his party.
Although the Englishmen arrived at the
site of Jamestown rather late in the season
for planting, and although many of them
were too indolent to work, others did what
they could to make up for the lost time. In
the rich soil, which had been cleared of trees,
corn that had been obtained from the Indians
was planted, and quickly showed a vigor
of growth that promised the best results.
On the day that Captain Smith sailed up
the James to make his call of state upon
Powhatan, more than twenty men were engaged
in planting and cultivating the corn
// 225.png
.pn +1
already put in the ground. Without any
warning, and when no one dreamed of
danger, the woods near by began raining
arrows. They came in bewildering showers,
amid the shouts of the Indians, of whom
only occasional glimpses were caught, as
they flitted from tree to tree, while they used
the trunks as shields. The English, stricken
with panic, dropped their implements and
ran behind the stockades, which had been
finished only a short time before. Hurried
as was their flight, those who glanced behind
them saw one man lying motionless on his
face. He was dead, pierced by so many
arrows that he looked like a huge porcupine.
Nearly all the others had been struck, some
of them two or three times; and when they
ran panting through the open gate the
missiles were still sticking in their bodies
and clothing. Actual count showed that
seventeen men had been wounded, most
of them slightly, though three or four seemed
likely to die of their hurts. Happily, however,
all recovered.
Instead of leaving, the Indians kept their
places in the woods, continually launching
their arrows at the settlers. While these
were harmless when directed against the
stockades, some of the warriors showed great
skill in curving them so that they dropped
inside the defences. It required keen watchfulness
// 226.png
.pn +1
on the part of the defenders to save
themselves from being badly hurt, for, when
a sharp-pointed missile comes almost straight
downward from a height of more than a
hundred feet, it is likely to do fatal damage.
The Englishmen could protect themselves
from mishaps, but could do little in the way
of driving off their assailants while they
were so well shielded among the trees.
Matters stood thus when the Sarah Constant
took a hand. Dropping a little way
down stream, so as to get clear range of the
stretch of woods in which their enemies
shielded themselves while keeping up their
attack, she discharged two of her cannon
that were loaded to the muzzle with slugs.
It is not likely that any of the warriors were
hurt by the missiles, but when they saw
large limbs splintered and falling about their
heads, and heard the rattle among the leaves
and twigs overhead and about them, they
were terrified, and scurried off in as headlong
a panic as that of the settlers when attacked
by the red men.
Not another foe was seen during the
day, though there could be no doubt that
more than one pair of black eyes were peeping
from among the vegetation, the owners,
no doubt, wondering as to the nature of the
awful weapon that could tear the big branches
from the trees. Some time after dark, however,
// 227.png
.pn +1
the sentinels heard sounds in the woods
near at hand, which showed that their enemies
had returned, and, of course, were
plotting mischief. The larger vessel, which
had held her place after driving off the Indians
earlier in the day, now fired another assortment
of missiles, and this ended all trouble
of that nature for some time to follow. It
was the report of this cannon which had
travelled up the James to the boat where
Captain Smith sat meditatively smoking.
The first attack on Jamestown brought
good results. It was clear to all that the
settlement must have a vigorous head, and
that he must be a military man. Wingfield,
as has been shown, had no qualification whatever
for the office. He must be displaced,
or the colony would go to ruin. Smith was
determined on his removal, and as a first
step he demanded that a trial by jury should
be given himself on the charges made long
before, and for which he was still under
arrest.
Wingfield refused, and when Smith insisted
he replied that he would send him
back to England to be tried by the authorities
there.
“You will not!” said the angry Captain.
“The charter provides for the trial of all
such charges in Virginia; it is my right, and
I will not be denied it!”
// 228.png
.pn +1
So, against his will, the Governor gave
Smith his trial, which was the first one by
jury in America; and never did an accused
man gain a greater triumph. Every charge
brought against him was shown to be false:
the witnesses broke down, and those who
swore that Captain Smith had plotted to
obtain the mastery of the colony were proved
to have sworn falsely. He might have been
boastful and overbearing at times, but he
was unselfish, and always thought of the
real interests of those who had crossed the
ocean with him to found homes in the New
World. Smith was not only declared innocent
of the shameful charges, but his chief
persecutor, a member of the Council, was
ordered to pay a fine of 200 pounds. When
this large sum was handed to Smith, he gave
it to the colony for the general use. Then
all parties partook of the Communion, declared
themselves friends, and Smith took
his seat as a member of the Council.
He had no wish to be Governor or President,
though he knew the day was near
when no one else would be able to save the
colony. He had a freer hand in certain
matters while simply Councillor, and was
willing that the people should become tired
of Wingfield before he stepped into his shoes.
We cannot dwell upon the miseries of
that first summer in Jamestown. The sickness,
// 229.png
.pn +1
caused by paying no heed to the laws
of health, rapidly grew worse. It looked
for a time as if disease would carry off every
man. They lay groaning and fever-smitten
in their cabins, until no thought was given
to the danger from the Indians. Had Powhatan,
or any other leader, chosen to attack
Jamestown with only a score of warriors,
he would have had no trouble in destroying
every man. Even Captain Smith, who
seemed safe against every disease and weakness,
took the fever, but refused to give
up, and with the help of a few others he
was able to drag out and bury the dead.
Among those who passed away were the good
Bartholomew Gosnold and Studley, the treasurer.
There remained, however, Wingfield, the
corrupt and wicked President, and the one
who had been defeated in the trial of Smith.
The two were his bitter enemies, and they
formed a plot which, if successful, would
not only ruin Smith, but would probably
destroy the colony itself.
.sp 2
// 230.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-07
CHAPTER VII.||UP THE CHICKAHOMINY
.sp 2
When September came one-half of the Jamestown
colony had passed away, and most of
the survivors were tottering with weakness
and disease. I have said that for weeks
theses wretched beings could have hardly
raised a hand to keep off the Indians had
they chosen to attack them; but instead
of that, Providence moved the hearts of the
red men to pity, and they brought corn to
the sufferers, though the supply was so
scant that it could last but a short time.
Captain Newport had sailed for England
several months before for food and supplies,
but could not be expected back for a long
time to come. He left one of the smaller
boats for the use of the colonists, and Wingfield
and another plotted to seize it and sail
to the Mother Country. When they tried
to do so, however, the others were so indignant
that they not only stopped them, but
turned them out of the Council, and chose
John Ratcliffe as President. He was little
better than Wingfield, and the settlers now
compelled Smith to take charge of the colony.
The Captain quickly proved his worth.
// 231.png
.pn +1
He gave the people to understand that every
well man must choose whether to work or
starve. He would have no idlers, and he
set the example by toiling as hard as the
best of them. On his return from an expedition
down the river, where he forced a
surly tribe to trade corn with him, he arrived
just as Wingfield and his friend, who had
again seized the pinnace, were about to
sail. Smith opened fire on them with a
cannon, and would have sunk the craft had
they not surrendered. Their action was so
base that they were tried by jury. The
life of Wingfield was spared, but all authority
was taken from him; while his companion,
as the greater offender of the two, was condemned
to death and shot.
With the coming of cool weather a great
improvement took place in the health of
the colonists. Disease abated, and on the
appearance of frost all fever disappeared.
Those who had been ill rapidly regained
their health. The river abounded with fish
and fowl, and the yellowing corn could be
made into bread. For the first time the
future looked bright, even though so many
had died. Other immigrants were sure to
arrive ere long, and were believed even then
to be on their way across the ocean.
How prone are we to forget favors done
to us! No man of colonial times earned a
// 232.png
.pn +1
heavier debt of gratitude than Captain John
Smith of Virginia, and yet, when things
improved, those whom he had been the
means of saving complained because he had
not done more. He gave up the Presidency
as the best means of teaching the people
his value to them.
Of course, you know that Christopher
Columbus died under the belief that, instead
of discovering a continent, he had simply
found the eastern shore of India. The belief
was held by nearly everybody during
more than a century that followed, that
America was only a narrow strip of land,
beyond which stretched the “South Sea.”
They thought that by sailing up any of the
large streams they would reach that vast
body of water. When Captain Henry Hudson
passed up the noble river, named for
him, in 1609, he expected to keep on till
his little ship entered the South Sea. It
was because of this universal belief that
England, in granting land to most of her
colonists, made the western boundary the
Pacific Ocean, or South Sea, which I need
not remind you was discovered by Balboa
in 1512.
Thus it was that the colony which settled
Jamestown was ordered to hunt for the
South Sea. Captain Smith was reproached
in Council for not carrying out this royal
// 233.png
.pn +1
command, and because of such neglect his
surly associates declared that the whole
enterprise was a failure. I have often wondered
whether the sensible Captain had any
faith in this wild dream. Be that as it may,
he replied to the fault-finding by declaring
he would set out at once in quest of the
missing sea. I cannot help thinking that
when he was stung into making this answer,
he was led to do so by his disgust with affairs
at home, but more by his love of adventure.
He must have felt that it would be a great
relief to get away from the quarrelling people,
who would learn his worth during his absence,
while he would gain an experience for which
he longed.
If you will glance at your map once more
you will notice that a large tributary empties
into the James River from the north, about
ten miles west of Jamestown. It is the
Chickahominy, and its sources are well to the
westward in the direction of the mountains
which form the most romantic section of
Virginia.
It was on a clear, cold day, early in December,
that Smith started on his eventful
voyage in a barge propelled by a crew of
half a dozen sturdy men, besides two friendly
Indians. As he meant to ascend the river,
as far as possible, he trailed a smaller boat
behind the barge—the same that he used
// 234.png
.pn +1
when he went ashore to learn the meaning
of the signal fire on the southern bank of the
James. This craft promised to be useful
when he had gone as far as the barge could
go, while it could also be turned to account
by himself in hunting for game that would
be scared away by sight of the larger boat,
whose advance could not be as well hidden
as the smaller one.
The barge, as it was called, was provided
with a sail, which must prove of great help
for a part of the time at least, while the
small half-cabin at the stern gave sleeping
room for the “shift” when off duty. There
were plenty of blankets, though the size of
the craft allowed no use of a fire as a means
of warmth. There were three row-locks on
each side, to be called into play when the
wind was not favorable, besides the numerous
times when they would have to use the
poles with which to push the boat through
the water. A scant supply of “pone,” or
corn bread, and venison was brought, but
the main reliance of the party was upon
the fish that were to be taken from the stream,
and the fowl and game that could be shot
along shore or in the woods.
When the barge left Jamestown not a
flake of snow was to be seen anywhere,
though winter had begun, and the climate
in that section is sometimes severe. A strong
// 235.png
.pn +1
breeze was blowing from the eastward, and
the craft moved easily forward without
calling the oars into use. Most of the
course of the Chickahominy is through a
swampy section, choked by fallen trees,
where navigation is difficult. Captain Smith
had sailed for a few miles above its mouth
some weeks before, but the region was unknown
to him. Because of this fact it was
the more pleasing, for, as you know, the
prospect of stirring adventure was one which
he was never able to resist. During his stay
in Virginia he explored so many waters in the
neighborhood of Chesapeake Bay, that the
distance covered was equal to the breadth of
the Atlantic between Liverpool and New York.
It was yet early in the day when the
barge turned to the right and entered the
broad mouth of the large branch of the
James. The sun, shining in a clear sky,
moderated the cold, so that with their blankets
about their forms the men were comfortable.
The two Indians used only the deerskin
jackets of covering for the upper part of
their bodies. Thus clothed, they would have
felt no discomfort had the temperature been
at zero. Each had his bow and arrows,
the white men being provided with the
snaphaunce muskets or old-fashioned flintlocks.
// 236.png
.pn +1
Captain Smith seated himself at the stern,
just back of the little cabin, his hand
resting on the end of the tiller, which was
held between his elbow and side. In this
position it was the easiest thing in the world
to direct the course of the boat. The others
placed themselves as fancy prompted, all
ready for any work when called upon.
Seated thus, the explorer was in a good
position to study the country as they moved
between the banks. The woods had a sameness,
though they could never lose their
interest to the crew, who knew they were
the first of their race to gaze upon the forests,
with the matted vines, the trees bending far
over the surface, while rotting log, interlocked
limbs, and fragments of trunks were
mixed in such confusion that the boat had
not gone far when the Captain had to change
his direct course to a winding one so as to
have a clear passage. Looking over the
gunwale he saw that in most places the water
was clear, though the color of the soil at
the bottom gave it a dark appearance. Sometimes
this depth was eight or ten feet, and
then it became so slight that he was not
surprised to feel the process slacken, and
then cease so gently that few noticed it. The
boat had grounded upon a marshy spot,
and the wind could carry it no further.
Captain Smith spoke to his men, and
// 237.png
.pn +1
four of them seized each a pole and rose to
their feet. When the ends were thrust against
the oozy bottom they sank deep into the
mud. Instead of trying to push the craft
ahead, they shoved so as to drive it back
into deeper water. This was not difficult,
the chief work being that of withdrawing
the ends of the poles from the soft earth,
so as not to bring the hull back to its former
place. When the depth had increased the
boat was steered to one side of the shoal,
and the sail not having been lowered, it
moved on again, though at so moderate a
speed that some minutes passed before even
Captain Smith was certain they were really
advancing.
All this time the occupants of the barge
were on the watch for Indians. Our friends
were entering the hunting-grounds of the
red men whose tribal name was that which
was given to the river, and it was not to be
expected that they would long remain ignorant
of the coming of the visitors. Nothing
would have been easier than for some of
these warriors, lurking in the wooded depths
along shore, to launch a shower of arrows
that would be likely to do harm, even though
Smith and those of his race were protected
by rude coats of mail. But while this might
have guarded their limbs and bodies, their
faces were left without any shield whatever.
// 238.png
.pn +1
When the sun was overhead the two men
seated nearest the cabin brought out the
black, coarse bread and cold venison. With
the aid of knives these were cut into rough
pieces and divided among all. Butter, pepper,
and salt were not thought of, and those
who wished to wash down their food did so
by dipping up water from the river in the
palm of the hand, or, in the case of the Captain,
by lifting it in a small tin cup.
About the middle of the afternoon the
breeze fell, and the flapping sail told the
navigators that they must use the oars. Four
were slipped into place, and two pairs of
sturdy arms bent to the task, the others
awaiting their turn. The Indians who sat
near the bow, silent and watchful, were not
expected to take part in the labor, for it
was of a nature with which they were not
familiar. The Captain had told them to
use their woodcraft to detect any danger,
and the two were scanning the shores as
they opened out before them, on the alert
for the first warning sign.
Suddenly one of the red men uttered a
hissing sound. Faint as it was all heard
it. The rowers instantly stopped, and Captain
Smith looked inquiringly at the Indians.
The one who had emitted the signal pointed
in advance and to the right bank. The
river at this place was more than two hundred
// 239.png
.pn +1
yards broad, the trees growing close to the
shore and many in the water itself. Several
white oaks curved out almost horizontally
over the surface before turning upward and
becoming upright. Many interlocking vines
showed, but it was the season of the year
when the foliage was absent, and only here
and there was an evergreen seen.
Not a white man could discover the
cause of the warning. So far as they were
able to see, they were the only living creatures
in the neighborhood. As yet they had
not caught sight of a deer, bear, or even a
fowl, and more than one began to believe
that a disappointment awaited them over
the supply of game. That the dusky guard
had detected something, however, was certain.
In answer to Smith’s inquiry he said,
speaking in his own tongue, that an Indian
was near them on shore. There might be
more, but certainly there was one. After
a minute’s pause the Captain ordered the
men at the oars to renew work. As they
did so he steered the boat a little to the left,
but, like everyone else, kept his attention
upon the spot where it looked as if danger
was lurking.
The guard was right, for, when nearly
opposite the place, all who were on watch
saw not one warrior, but two partly hidden,
by the trees and undergrowth. Their position
// 240.png
.pn +1
was slightly crouching, and their attention
was fixed upon the white men. They
had the bows and arrows of their people,
and one of them seemed to be fixing a missile
to the string of his weapon.
While all were watching the Indian, not
really certain as to his intention, he suddenly
aimed, and let his arrow fly. It flashed
in the sunlight, but was so poorly directed
that it passed ten feet over the heads of the
crew, and dropped into the water beyond.
Hardly had it done so, when Captain
Smith reached down and caught up his
musket lying at his feet. He aimed at the
daring warrior, and, pausing only a moment,
pulled the trigger. He was a better marksman
then the other, who was struck by the
bullet, which, if it did not inflict serious hurt,
caused a twinge which threw the fellow into
a panic. With a yell he whirled on his feet
and dashed into the wood, his equally frightened
companion crashing through the undergrowth
at his heels. The crew broke into
laughter, and two or three would have fired
at the fleeing couple had the Captain permitted
it.
Smith had done a prudent thing, for, had
he made no reply to the attack, his foes
would have thought it due to fear, and
would have pressed the white men. Nothing
further of that nature was to be feared from
// 241.png
.pn +1
the two, nor from any of their friends whom
they could tell of the occurrence.
The men at the oars now gave place to
others, and the ascent of the Chickahominy
continued until night began closing in. By
that time they had reached the edge of the
famous White Oak Swamp, where some of
the severest battles were fought during the
great Civil War of 1861–5. They found it
composed of lagoons, morasses and stretches
of wide-spreading ponds or lakes choked with
trees, and abounding with shallow places,
where the expanses of sluggish water were
so broad and winding that it was hard to
keep to the channel. The barge was anchored
in the middle of one of these small
lakes, the Captain deeming it unsafe to
camp on shore, though nothing further had
been seen of Indians. After partaking of
a frugal meal the men lay down for the night,
two of their number mounting guard. The
Captain longed for a smoke, but there was
danger of the light drawing the attention of
their enemies, and again he set a good example
to his friends.
After night had fully come, the anchor was
gently lifted, and with the aid of the long
poles, the position of the craft was shifted a
number of rods down stream. This was
meant to make it hard for any warriors
prowling in the vicinity to find the boat.
// 242.png
.pn +1
They would naturally seek it where it was
last seen in the gathering gloom, and failing
to discover it, would have to look elsewhere.
.sp 2
// 243.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-08
CHAPTER VIII.||PARTING COMPANY
.sp 2
It happened that the two men who were
first to mount guard were our old acquaintances,
Smith and Bertram, who had gone
ashore with Captain Smith some months
before, when the first named tried to abduct
Pocahontas, the daughter of Powhatan, and
might have succeeded but for the interference
of the Captain.
Bertram’s position was at the bow, while
Smith was at the stern, near the small cabin.
When the Captain gave them this duty he
warned both to be on the alert during every
minute of the time. The Indians were so
cunning that if they knew of the presence of
the barge in the river they would try some
trick upon the whites, and the deception might
take any one of a score of forms. The important
order to the sentinels was that,
whenever they saw anything suspicious, they
were to fire upon it, for, in doing so, they
could not fail to teach their enemies an important
lesson.
“And,” significantly added the leader,
“gunpowder is valuable. Don’t waste it.”
Bertram sat with his blanket wrapped
// 244.png
.pn +1
about his shoulders and his musket resting
beside him, where it could be caught up at a
moment’s warning. His companion did the
same at the stern. The night was cold, and
since they were prevented from warming
their blood by moving about, they felt the
chill despite the protection. When it seemed
to them that midnight had come, they were
to call two of their friends and change places
with them.
Soon after the couple had gone on guard,
a gentle wind arose. It sighed dismally
among the leafless branches on shore, and
caused a faint rippling against the hull, which
added to the loneliness of the place. No
sound of wild animal or signal of men was
heard amid the chilling solitude around them.
The lowering of the temperature was so
recent that the boat had met no ice on its
way, though a few needlelike points began
putting out from the swampy shore, and more
of it was likely to form within the next few
days.
Bertram had held his place for nearly two
hours without hearing or seeing anything to
cause misgiving. Deep, impenetrable darkness
shut in the boat. In no direction could the
watchers catch the faintest outline of the shore.
The sky was partly cloudy, and the new moon
was hidden, though a few stars twinkled overhead
// 245.png
.pn +1
without adding any light to the impressive
scene.
There was no danger of either of the men
falling asleep while at his post. They might
have done so had they tried to watch until
daybreak. As it was, they continued as
vigilant as if pacing to and fro in front of a
camp fire.
At the end of the time named Bertram
heard a sound that he knew meant danger.
It was so faint that he was neither sure of its
nature nor of the point whence it came. He
shoved down the top of the blanket from his
ears and listened. Fancying that the noise
had been on his right, he leaned forward in the
effort to penetrate the gloom, and closed one
hand about the barrel of his musket.
Five or ten minutes of silence followed,
when he heard the noise again—still faint,
but distinct enough to show its nature as well
as its direction. It was made by the dip of
a paddle, and his first impression of the point
whence the sound came was right. Beyond
a doubt, a party of Indians in a canoe were
hunting for the barge.
Bertram did not signal to his companion,
for he might be held by some discovery of his
own. He leaned farther over the gunwale
and peered into the darkness. He lifted his
gun so that it lay across his knee, and smothering
the click made by the lock, drew back
// 246.png
.pn +1
the clumsy hammer, with the bit of yellow
flint clutched in its maw.
Thus gazing, he made out a shadowy something,
which looked like a section of the gloom,
resting on the water. It was moving very
slowly, neither approaching the barge nor
receding from it, but seemingly making
a circuit of the craft. It was a canoe, but
instead of completing the circuit on which
it had started, it paused when just in front
of the bow.
The sentinel thought that it would not
stay motionless long, but would pass on,
probably coming nearer the larger boat; but
minute after minute passed without any
change of its position. Several times when
Bertram was intently looking he was sure
there was nothing in sight; but, upon shifting
his gaze for a moment and bringing it
back again, his doubt vanished. The canoe
was there, though he could not tell how many
persons it contained.
Perplexed and uncertain of what he ought
to do he emitted a cautious call to his companion,
who stealthily made his way to his
side.
“Have you seen anything amiss?” asked
Bertram.
“Naught whatever. How is it with you?”
“A few yards in front of us a canoe has
halted, but it is so dimly seen that I am in
// 247.png
.pn +1
doubt whether to fire or not. What do you
make of it?”
With one hand on the shoulder of his
friend, Smith leaned as far over as he could,
and gazed into the gloom.
“It is there,” he whispered; “and, if
I am not mistaken, it is full of warriors.”
“Then I will do as the Captain commanded.”
“And I will await the result before I fire.”
The hammer of Bertram’s gun being already
raised, he softly brought the stock to
his shoulder, first dropping the blanket so
as to leave his arm free. He sighted carefully,
but was checked by the same difficulty
as before; as he fixed his vision on the target
it seemed to melt in the darkness, and
he could not make sure of his aim.
“I cannot see it,” he muttered in vexation.
“Do you fire.”
“It is idle; it has gone.”
This was true. During the brief moments
taken to aim, the canoe had glided off in the
gloom, and the keenest scrutiny on the
part of both could not locate it. Smith
picked his way to the stern, and the two
kept watch until well beyond midnight.
Then they roused two of their friends, and
told them what they had seen, and urged
them to unusual vigilance. But, though
they obeyed, they discovered nothing to
// 248.png
.pn +1
cause alarm, nor were the canoe and its occupants
seen or heard of again. It was fair
to believe that the warriors, after studying
the large boat as best they could in the gloom,
agreed that it was too dangerous for them
to attack, and went away.
The two succeeding days were marked by
toil and discouragement. Only for a brief time
did the sail give any help, and there were hours
when the oars were useless because of the
many obstructions. Three times the crew
had to saw their way through the logs and
branches, and more than once, after poling
hard for a long while, they could not see that
they had made any progress. Fortunately
the Indians did not disturb them. It was
on the second day that a solitary warrior
was noticed. He was leaping from log to
log on his way across one of the many streams,
knowing nothing, as it seemed, of the presence
of the strange visitors. Not once did
he turn his head, but whisked out of sight
the moment his moccasin rested on dry
land, as if he had business that would not
admit of delay.
Finally, it was seen that the large boat
was of no further aid in going up the Chickahominy.
Use must be made of the small
one trailing at the rear, which had served
when they had to chop and saw their way
through the obstructions. Smith would have
// 249.png
.pn +1
been warranted in turning back and giving
his energies to the exploration of other
branches of the James, but such was not his
nature. He said he would take the two Indians
and a couple of his own men with him,
and go up the stream as far he could.
The day was so near at its close that he
decided not to start until the next morning.
The chief thing to be feared was the red
men, who were known to roam and hunt
through the region. The fact that, after
the exchange of shots several days before,
they had seen only the single warrior, was
good evidence that nothing of the kind
threatened; but Captain Smith was not
quite satisfied. He sent his friendly red
men ashore with orders to scout the woods
in every direction for signs of their countrymen,
while he urged upon the guards to use
sleepless vigilance throughout the night.
The disturbing feature must be borne in
mind. Near the spot where the Captain had
decided to part company with his companions
they had seen an Indian leaping across the
logs. What more likely than that he had
friends in the neighborhood, whom he had
joined shortly after observing the barge,
and had told them of his discovery?
What would be done by these warriors?
Would they give no attention to the white
men, or would they join in a plan for their
// 250.png
.pn +1
destruction? These were the questions which
Smith could not answer, and which explained
why he sent the friendly Indians to land with
orders to scour the woods on every hand.
The result quieted the fears of the Captain.
His scouts did not come back till late at night
when they reported that they had not seen
any of their own people, nor a sign of their
presence in the vicinity. Furthermore, his
men who kept watch on the boat did not
discover anything to cause misgiving. This
seemed to mean that no danger threatened,
and yet it might mean one or two other things
that were by no means so pleasant to think
upon. The enemies, observing the hunt
made for them, would have had little trouble
in keeping out of sight. A still darker theory
was that the scouts knew that a large number
of warriors was in the woods, and possibly
reached an understanding with them.
Whether this was true or not can never be
known, but the fact remains that there was
at that very time a large party of red men
near by, and the conduct of one of the
friendlies some time after makes the theory
named reasonable.
The barge was rowed to the middle of a
broad expanse of water, where the woods
were quite far off in every direction, and the
anchor was dropped into the soft bottom.
Smith meant to take the two Indians and
// 251.png
.pn +1
the same number of his own men with him.
His namesake and Bertram asked the privilege
of being his companions, but he declined.
He had not felt very friendly towards them
since the affair with Pocahontas, and in the
event of trouble with any of Powhatan’s
tribes, the presence of the two as his comrades
might prove dangerous to himself.
Before leaving he addressed the four who
remained in charge of the barge.
“No matter what happens after I am
gone, not one of you must go ashore. You
cannot do so without working the boat to
land, and that is, perhaps, what the red men
are waiting for you to do. Stay here till I
come back.”
“But suppose, Captain,” said Bertram,
with a grin, “you do not come back?”
“Wait for three days, if you see nothing
of me then, turn the prow down stream, and
make all haste for Jamestown.”
“And what shall we say when we get
there?”
“Say what you please,” replied the Captain
impatiently. “I don’t doubt you will
sprinkle plenty of falsehood in your words.”
It was so much easier to go up the Chickahominy
in the smaller boat, that Smith
thought it likely he would continue the ascent
of the river for several days. He meant to
press on as far as he could go in the craft.
// 252.png
.pn +1
Whether he should venture beyond that on
foot must depend upon circumstances.
Thus five men entered the small boat,
which, you remember, was provided with
two pairs of oars, but had no sail. The white
men did the rowing, while the Indians stoically
looked on, willing, if asked, to take one
of the blades in hand, and ply it as they
were accustomed to use their own paddles.
At the moment of starting a slight flurry
of snow carried the flakes against their faces,
but it ceased in a few minutes, and the
weather became more moderate than at any
time since leaving Jamestown. This was pleasant,
for no ice of account showed in the stream
in which they must remain for some time
to come.
Captain Smith had not been gone half an
hour when those left behind in the barge
boat gave voice to their discontent over the
command he had laid upon them.
“It is unbearable to stay here for two or
three days,” said his namesake, who was
seated at the bow, looking with a glum expression
at his companions. “How shall we
spend the weary hours?”
“We might fish,” said Bertram with a grin.
“That would answer for a little while,
but the fish do not bite readily in this wintry
weather, and we shall grow tired.”
“The scouts who spent so much time ashore
// 253.png
.pn +1
told us that no Indians were near; that ought
to satisfy us. Let us go ashore, where we can
stretch our limbs and perhaps find game.”
The proposal was in direct disregard of
the order of their leader, but it was agreeable
to each of the four men. They can
hardly be blamed for feeling as they did
over the prospect of remaining in virtual
imprisonment so long, but their act, none
the less, was wrong. Bertram and Smith
rose to their feet and began plying their
poles. The water was five or six feet in
depth, and under their efforts the craft began
sidling toward land. While the couple were
toiling the others scanned the wooded bank
which they were nearing. They must have
felt a misgiving, for each laid his musket
across his knee, and one of them wrinkled
his brows and shook his head, but said
nothing, and the poles were used with a
vigor that steadily lessened the fifty yards
or more it was necessary to pass to reach
land.
The point at which the boat was directed
was an open space, several square yards in
extent, and favorable for stepping ashore
from the craft. Beyond and on the two sides
stretched the wood, with its rank undergrowth
and matted vines. If there was any
current it was too sluggish to be noted.
The side of the boat was so near the bank
// 254.png
.pn +1
that it was a slight leap for any one. Smith
was standing with his pole motionless, and on
the point of making the jump, when one of
his friends, who had also risen, gun in hand,
called out in an excited undertone:
“Back—quick! The woods are full of
Indians!”
// 255.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-09
CHAPTER IX.||HARD PRESSED
.sp 2
It was fortunate, that when the Indians
warriors swarmed out of the woods to attack
the boat so near shore, the four white men
on board did not lose their presence of mind.
This was partly due to the feeling which had
come, more or less, to every one, that they
were doing a dangerous thing in thus disobeying
the order of Captain John Smith.
Thus they were partly prepared for that
which broke upon them with so much suddenness.
Smith and Bertram used the poles to the
utmost, despite the arrows whizzing about
them. They pushed so hard that the boat
quickly yielded, and the space between it
and the land widened with every moment.
Their companions aimed their muskets at
the crowding forms, and fired with such
skill that each brought down a warrior.
The effect of this check upon the others
was instantly noticed. It scared them into
darting back among the trees, but instead
of keeping up their flight they whisked behind
the trunks, from which they continued
to launch their arrows at the men in the boat.
// 256.png
.pn +1
Now, if the Indians, who certainly numbered
a hundred, had done any one of several
things, it would have proved a bad day for
our friends. It is strange that the red men
did not wait a few minutes longer until the
four stepped ashore. Then, from behind the
trees, they could have brought them down
without danger to themselves. Or, if when
they made their rush they had kept on, they
might have leaped aboard the barge and
crushed the defenders. Perhaps they did
not know that after the white men had fired
their terrible weapons it took some time to
reload them. Be that as it may, they fell
back, and the chance that the invaders
needed was given them.
No one could have shown more bravery
than Bertram and Smith. They plied the
poles, paying no regard to the missiles flying
around them; while their companions, first
firing the guns of the couple, reloaded and
discharged their own as fast as the chance
offered. When the craft reached the middle
of the broad space little was to be feared
from the Indians, for the distance was too
great for them to gain good aim.
It was at this moment that a strange
thing took place. The clothes of every one
of the defenders had been pierced by arrows—some
in several places, and two had been
wounded, though not severely. No one
// 257.png
.pn +1
could have been more exposed than Bertram,
standing out as he did in full view while
helping to pole the boat. He was glazed
more than once by the missiles, but was the
only one of the four who was not so much as
scratched. Smith had been hit, but was
smiling over his good fortune, when he
pitched forward on his face, pierced to the
heart by an arrow that was among the last
fired at the boat.
The body was tenderly laid at the stern,
and then, while two were alert with their
weapons, the third used the oars. There
was no thought now of staying where they
were until Captain Smith came back. They
did not believe he ever would come back. So
they kept on down stream as best they could.
Fortunately for them the large body of
Indians did not follow along the banks; and
with the help of the current, after passing
the obstructions below, they made good progress.
In due course they glided out of the
mouth of the Chickahominy into the James,
and, reaching Jamestown, told their story.
Among the settlers there was not one who
expected ever to see Captain John Smith
or his companions again.
Meanwhile the Captain was having stirring
times. You remember that he set out
to go still farther up the stream in the little
boat, which was just bouyant enough to
// 258.png
.pn +1
carry him, the two white men, and the friendly
Indians. Its light draught made the work
so easy that they kept on for a dozen miles
before meeting their first check. The party
heard the faint reports of the guns of their
friends left behind in the barge. Smith
thought it more than likely they were in
trouble, but he had no idea of going to their
help, since no one but themselves was to
blame.
About noon he reached a point where he
saw the little boat had become useless. He
suspected the truth: he had strayed from
the river itself, and was following one of its
branches. He did not care for that; but
telling the oarsman to turn to the left bank,
all stepped out, and the boat was drawn up
nearly clear of the water.
“You are weary from rowing,” he said
to the two who had taken turns at the
hard work; “and you may wait here while
I go a little farther in quest of game.”
“Can’t we help you?” asked one, who
added that they were not tired. Both would
have been glad to take part in the hunt.
I have said that Captain Smith was fond
of hunting alone, and he told his friends to
stay where they were. He meant to be with
them before dark, when they could broil
the game which he was sure of bagging, and
// 259.png
.pn +1
they would spend the night in comfort by
the camp fire in the depth of the forest.
Despite what the men said they were
quite worn out from rowing the boat for
several miles. So, with the help of a flint
and steel, they kindled a big fire, wrapped
their blankets around them, and lay down
with their feet toward the blaze. By and
by they sank into deep, restful sleep, for the
air was nipping and cold, and they were
well guarded against the chill.
It grieves me to say that neither of them
ever awoke. At the end of an hour, while
they lay dreaming, the same party of Indians
that had attacked the larger boat came upon
them, and quickly ended their lives.
Now, I need not remind you that in England,
like all other countries governed by
a monarch, the eldest son comes to the throne
on the death of the ruler. Should King
Edward die—and we all hope he will not be
called away for a long time to come—the
Prince of Wales, who is his eldest son living,
would become the sovereign, and in the event
of his death, his eldest son would inherit
the crown. Such is the rule of descent in
Great Britain.
It was not thus with Powhatan, the
Emperor of many tribes of red men. The
next heir to his throne, if we may call it
such, was his eldest brother. If he had had
// 260.png
.pn +1
no brothers, the descent would have passed
to the sons of Powhatan’s sisters. But
Powhatan had several brothers, and one was
Opecancanough. If he outlived Powhatan
and the eldest brother he would become
Emperor. I may say that this chief did
become ruler, and lived to be nearly a hundred
years old.
Opecancanough never liked the English,
and he urged Powhatan and his fellow warriors
to destroy them before their numbers
became too great to be overcome. He was
active and had much to do with the enmity
the older brother often showed to the settlers.
He was the leader of the band which
attacked the large boat, when one of the
white men was killed and the others had a
narrow escape.
Opecancanough was pursuing Captain
John Smith. He knew he was the leading
man at Jamestown, and that it was more
important to slay him than to put twenty
other Englishmen out of the way. When
he learned of the voyage up the Chickahominy
he gathered more than a hundred of
his warriors, and secretly followed the boat
for many miles, watching for a chance to
destroy the crew, but especially to slay Captain
Smith. It proves how cunning he was
that he did this for many miles without any
of the white men learning the fact. The
// 261.png
.pn +1
two who exchanged shots with the crew did
not belong to his party, though they afterwards
joined it.
A strange fact which it is hard to understand,
was, that when Captain John Smith and
his companions started up the branch of
the Chickahominy they were not seen by
either the chief or any of his band. The
Indians were on the other side of the broad
expanse of the water, and were not looking
for anything of that nature; but it is singular,
indeed, that some of them did not observe
the departure of the small craft with its five
occupants.
When the barge began working toward
shore, Opecancanough believed Smith and
his friends were on board. His eagerness to
slay them led to a haste in the attack, which
was the means of saving all except one man.
During the fight the chief discovered that
five of the crew, including the Captain, were
absent. He must have noticed also, that,
the small row boat which had been towed at
the stern was gone. These facts told him
the truth: Captain Smith had started up
stream with four companions, who were
already quite distant.
If the chief had made a bad slip in the
first case, he now met with a piece of good
fortune, due to the fine woodcraft of himself
and his warriors. A study of the different
// 262.png
.pn +1
outlets of the expanse of water showed
where a slight disturbance was caused by
the passage of the small boat. These signs
became clearer as they pressed along the
shore, and left no doubt that they were on
the right course. Thus it came about that
they arrived at the camp where the two
white men lay asleep with no dream of danger.
After the fatal halt it remained for the Indians
to push on after Captain Smith, who had
started to shoot some fowl or game for the
supper of himself and friends.
From this point it was necessary to trail
the Captain. It was not hard to do so,
since he could not go through the forest
without leaving the prints of his shoes,
which were as easy to follow as if he had
been walking over a dusty road. You must
remember, too, that he had two companions
in the persons of the friendly Indians. I
have said that there is no knowing whether
they were true to the leader or not. I cannot
help doubting the loyalty of one of them,
and think you will soon agree with me.
Captain Smith had no thought of danger.
The fact that he had come thus far in the
wilderness without harm led him to think
that what had seemed to threaten him once
or twice on the way had passed, and he need
feel no alarm. Only one incident, after he
had gone a little way, caused misgiving. He
// 263.png
.pn +1
kept the lead; the Indians following him in
single file, as is their custom. With his
musket resting on one shoulder, the sturdy
fellow tramped forward, sometimes turning
to the right or left to avoid a dense growth
of underbrush, or pool, or marsh. He was
peering among the branches of the trees
and along the ground in front and on either
hand in quest of game, and grew impatient
because he did not discover any. With a
half-angry word upon his lips he suddenly
saw a movement among the trees a little
to the left, which he knew was caused by
some animal. Uttering a guarded “Sh!”
to his companions, he stopped short and
looked keenly at the point where he had
seen the slight flutter.
The next moment he caught the outlines
of a noble buck stalking among the trees,
with his side turned towards the hunter,
whom, of course, he did not see, though he
was sure to detect him in a twinkling. Afraid
that one of the Indians might not understand
the delicate situation, Captain Smith
turned his head to whisper a warning.
As he did so he saw only one of his men.
He who had been walking at the rear was
gone. The discovery caused such a thrill
of distrust that Captain Smith forgot the
buck moving a little way from him, and
asked:
// 264.png
.pn +1
“Where is Pete?”
He used the name he had given the fellow
in place of his difficult native title.
Jim, as the second was called, flashed his
head about, and seemed as much astonished
as the white man. He answered in his own
tongue:
“He was walking behind me; I do not
know what has become of him.”
Both glanced among the trees to the right
and left and the rear, without seeing anything
of the missing one. A crashing noise
made them turn to the front. It was caused
by the buck, which having observed the
hunter, was off like the wind. No danger of
his serving for a meal that evening.
The Captain turned round again. Jim was
standing with his back to him, his long bow
in his left hand, while his profile showed over
the right and then over the left shoulder as
he searched for his late comrade. It looked
as if he was as much puzzled as the white man.
If so, we must believe he was loyal to the Captain,
though we cannot think the same of the
other.
Smith was angry. Before he could express
his feelings he saw directly beyond Jim a
disturbance among the trees, so similar to
what he had noticed a short time before, that
he thought it came from a similar cause,
// 265.png
.pn +1
and that the game he was seeking was within
his reach.
But he was mistaken. While he was looking
an Indian appeared, coming cautiously
toward him. Then another showed on the
right of the red man, a third on his left, and
beyond, around and among these the stained
faces and dangling hair of others were quickly
revealed, with still more coming into view.
A band was approaching the startled Captain,
who knew he was caught in a bad plight.
The party which had slain three of his friends
and had been pursuing him over so long a
distance had caught with him at last.
The leaders of the Indians were almost
as quick to discover their man as he had
been to see them. A score of signals passed
from one to the other, and the band pressed
towards the Captain, who held his ground.
Smith said there were three hundred of them,
but it must have been less, though they
were numerous enough to show that little
or no hope remained to him.
That there should be no doubt as to their
intentions, fully a score sent their arrows
hurtling among the trees and branches at
the white man. Some went wild and clipped
off the twigs near him, but two of them
nipped his clothing. He fixed his eye on
the foremost Indian, who had come near
piercing him with his missile, and noting
// 266.png
.pn +1
that he was in the act of fitting a second one
to his string, he took careful aim at the
warrior and shot him dead.
During these stirring moments Jim stood
as if so overcome that he was unable to move
or speak. Although he held a fine bow in
one hand and his quiver was full of arrows,
he made no attempt to use them. It was
too much to expect him to assail his own
race, when there was no chance of helping
the white man by doing so. Captain Smith
did not ask him thus to seal his own fate,
but his own quick wit saw a way in which
he might be made to aid him.
Two strides brought the Captain so near
that he could have touched the back of his
dusky friend, who still seemed dazed.
“Stand where you are! Don’t move!”
commanded Smith, in his most impressive
voice. “They won’t shoot through you to
reach me!”
The Captain was a larger man than his
shield, and he took a crouching pose, peeping
over each shoulder in turn and around the
sides of Jim at his enemies, who were baffled
for the moment. While doing so Smith
carefully reloaded his musket. It was hard
to pound the powder in place with the ramrod,
shove the bullet after it, and then pour
the grains into the pan, for, while thus occupied,
he had to “keep one eye” on his foes.
// 267.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-10
CHAPTER X.||A PRISONER
.sp 2
Despite the trying situation of Captain
Smith, he managed to reload his gun, and
at the same time to keep his body quite
well shielded by that of his dusky friend.
Several causes made it possible to do this.
Jim showed a real desire to help his master,
for, when it would have been easy to break
from him and join his countrymen, he allowed
himself to be handled at will by the white
man. The warriors showed by their actions
that they did not wish to hurt Jim. More
than once, when one of them had drawn
his bow-string and pointed the arrow, he held
it back, seeing that if he should discharge it
he was likely to hurt the man who stood
in front of the crouching Englishman. More
than all, however, was the dread which the
band, large as it was, felt of the fearful weapon
that had stretched one of their number
lifeless on the ground. Most of them tried
to keep the trunks of the trees between them
and him, even when aiming their primitive
weapons. Smith had only to turn the muzzle
of his musket towards the most daring of his
// 268.png
.pn +1
enemies to make them dodge back to their
protection and cringe in fear.
The Captain saw that the right course
was not to fire until he had to do so to save himself.
So long as his assailants knew that their
leader was sure to fall they would hold back.
How long this would last remained to be seen.
Now, it is hard to think of a situation more
hopeless than that of Captain Smith at this
time. When attacked, his back was toward
the camp where he had left his two companions
some time before. He hoped to be able to
retreat until he joined them, when the three
with their firearms might be able to hold off
their foes. But it was quite a way to the
camp, and he could not believe he would be
permitted to reach it. His foes were so
numerous that by spreading out they would
be able soon to surround him. He could
not protect himself from all sides by the body
of Jim. It would seem that the best and
only thing for him to do was to surrender
before he had increased the enmity of the
Indians by slaying more of them.
Standing close behind Jim, he gave his
orders in a low voice. After he had reloaded
his gun he grasped his friend’s girdle at the
lower part of his back, and jerked upon it
when ready to retreat a few steps.
“Step slowly,” he said, “keep with me.
Not too slow!”
// 269.png
.pn +1
In this way the withdrawal was kept up till
they had gone several rods. Smith glanced
to the right and left, and saw that his enemies
were spreading apart, so as to surround him.
He must prevent this, or it would soon be all
over with him. In truth, the position of the
Indians would be better for themselves when
they had formed a semicircle than after the
circle was completed; for an arrow discharged
from directly behind Smith would be liable
to hit Jim, in the line of its flight, while the
danger of doing this was less if fired from either
the right or left.
You do not need to be told that Captain
John Smith was one of the bravest of men,
and he would fight as long as the slightest
hope was left to him. When he had doubled
the distance named he began to think that he
might reach the camp of his companions and
beat off his assailants, who felt such a dread
of his gun. But while doing so, with Jim
still serving the part of shield, he saw that
the danger he had in mind at first had come
upon him. One warrior, more than six feet
in height, with his face stained with puccoon,
and his crown stuck full of dyed eagle feathers,
had worked so far to the right of the white
man that the latter could not screen himself
behind his friend without inviting a shot from
most of the others. Smith was able to keep
// 270.png
.pn +1
his chief foe in his field of vision while watching
the actions of the main party.
This warrior must have had a clear plan in
mind, for, darting from one tree to another
and holding his arrow, he gained the advantage
he was seeking. In order to make his
aim certain he stepped from behind the trunk
which had sheltered him, and carefully sighted
at the slowly retreating Englishman. Before
he could draw the shaft to a head he uttered
a loud cry, leaped high in air, and pitched forward
with his long bow bent under him.
Smith had fired again, and not a second too
soon.
The shot was so unexpected that the warriors
were checked for a minute. Smith expected
it, and, standing behind Jim, hastily
reloaded his musket. No harder situation
can be thought of, for it was certain that his
foes would soon rally, and press him closer
than before. With a coolness that was
amazing, he poured the powder into the pan
of his gun from his horn, grasped the weapon
firmly, and took a couple of steps to the rear.
“Come on, Jim,” he said, having loosed his
hold. “Keep moving till I tell you to stop.”
It was at this juncture that Smith made a
startling discovery. One of the Indians—he
who stood nearest the one that had just
fallen—had an English musket in his hands!
// 271.png
.pn +1
Less than ten paces from him a second warrior
held a similar weapon.
Smith knew what it meant; his two friends
whom he had left in camp had been slain.
He had no one now to fall back upon.
Even the brave Englishman did not then
yield. He would have continued retreating
and fighting until brought to the ground. Nor
did he give up when one of the arrows, better
aimed than the others, pierced his thigh, and
made a slight wound. He noticed that his
comrade who had served him so well thus far
had also been hit. His countrymen were
growing impatient because he kept them back
so long, and were beginning to launch their
shafts with less care for his safety. His life
would not be spared unless he stepped aside.
With a chivalry for which Captain Smith
deserved the highest credit, he pushed his
friend so strongly to one side that he had to
take several paces to keep from falling.
“Thank you, Jim; you can serve me no
longer.”
The Captain retreated faster, with his
eyes on his enemies, meaning to hold his fire
as long as he could, but ready to use the
musket the instant it was needed. Afraid that
he would soon be surrounded, he paid no heed
to Jim, who paused a little way from him, and
stared around as if bewildered. The Englishman
could not look where he placed his feet.
// 272.png
.pn +1
The right foot went down on the ground,
but instead of finding the firm support it had
had all along, the leg sank to the knee in the
soft mud. Smith made a desperate effort to
wrench it free, when the left foot went down
as far as the other. He struggled with might
and main, but sank farther, until both legs
were imbedded in the ooze almost to his thighs.
This brought the end. It seemed to him
that the clinging mud was colder than ice
itself. He must perish, even if the Indians
left him alone, and they were sure not to do
that. He flung his musket from him, and
threw up his hands.
“I yield! I surrender!” he called in the
tongue of the red men.
Even then, when his helpless situation
was plain to all, most of the warriors were
afraid to draw nearer to him. All knew him
as the most important member of the colony,
and what they had seen him do filled them
with dread of the great magician. Fortunately,
there were a few with more sense.
They went to where Smith was still floundering
and grasping his outstretched hands, drew
him out upon hard ground.
The Captain had learned from his experience
among these people. He knew their
weak side. In a voice of authority, he asked
as he looked around in the stained faces, for
their chief. At the same time he took hold
// 273.png
.pn +1
of a small compass in an ivory case, which
he earned at his side. Deftly untying the
string, he held the little instrument in his
hand, so that all could see the tiny needle
flickering back and forth under the glass
covering. They crowded around like so many
children, gaping in wonder, and not knowing
whether to retreat or hold their ground.
Finally, one braver than the others, timidly
reached his forefinger and tried to place it on
the dancing needle. But lo! something stopped
the finger point before it touched the restless
bit of metal. With a gasp of affright the
warrior recoiled, ignorant of what it meant.
That which had checked his action was the
thin covering of glass. Not one of the Indians
had ever beheld the metal, and the bit before
the curious one was so transparent that he
did not see even that. Those of his people
who had visited Jamestown observed the
windows protected with oiled paper. Glass
was before them for the first time.
Only one of the Indians was brave enough
thus to try to touch the magnetic needle, and
despite the shock he received, he tried it
again, only to be repulsed as before. He bent
his head farther over the compass, as if he
suspected the hard substance which stopped
him.
His head almost touched the chin of Captain
Smith. The latter looked more closely
// 274.png
.pn +1
at him. He saw that, while he was dressed
much the same as the others, he had more
stained eagle plumes in his dangling black
hair, and he wore a broader and finer sash
around his waist. Gazing downward, Smith
noted also that his leggings had numerous
ornamental fringes, and there were more
beads on his moccasin—all these being in the
line of the Englishman’s vision.
Noting these, it flashed upon Smith that
this warrior was the chieftain for whom he
had asked a few minutes before. At the
same moment he recognized him. He was
Opecancanough, brother of Powhatan, next
to him in importance, heir to the throne, and
a leader who was destined to act an important
part in the early history of Virginia.
When the sachem straightened up, after
he had learned why he could not touch the
needle, Smith offered the compass to him.
He smiled and shook his head. His courage
was not yet sufficient to take the marvellous
thing in his palm. He looked into the face
of the Captain, as did all the others, who
crowded round, as if inviting him to tell them
something about the instrument.
In describing this odd incident Captain
Smith relates something which, with all our
fondness for the good fellow, we cannot quite
believe. He says that by means of the compass
he demonstrated the roundness of the
// 275.png
.pn +1
earth, the skies, the sphere of the sun, moon,
and stars; “and how the sunne did chase the
night round the world continually; the greatnese
of the land and sea; the diversitie of
nations; varietie of complexions, and how we
were to them, antipodes, and many other such
matters.”
Perhaps the lecture was given as described,
but little or nothing of it was understood by
his hearers. In the first place, his knowledge
of their tongue was slight, and the
facts themselves were profound. But by this
time Smith was in a bad condition. He was
smeared with icy mud to his waist, and so
chilled that his teeth chattered. His captors
showed unexpected kindness. They rubbed
the stuff from his clothes, and led him back
to the camp where his dead friends lay. The
fire was burning strongly, and he was soon
able to warm himself.
But Smith had killed two of the warriors,
and when the others had had time to recover
from the spell of his seeming magic they
talked together. After all, he was a man the
same as themselves, though the color of his
skin was different, and he did not dress like
them. They were so numerous that he gave
up all thought of resistance, since his weapons
were in their hands, and they enclosed him on
all sides. Two of them came forward, each
taking him by an arm, and led him to a tree,
// 276.png
.pn +1
to which he was bound with deer thongs.
Then the company formed a circle, and each
Indian slowly drew an arrow to its head, with
the point levelled at him. Smith closed his
eyes, and uttered a prayer to heaven.
Opecancanough was not among those who
thus made ready to bury the missiles in his
body. He stood a little apart from the others,
and before they could launch their deadly
arrows he commanded them in a loud voice
to stop. At the same moment he held up the
compass, which he had at last taken from the
captive. His men were prompt in obeying,
and all lowered their weapons.
Hope was renewed in the breast of Smith,
though he could not help fearing that his
death had been merely postponed. His captors
knew who he was, and, since he had slain
two of their number, they would not forgive
him, even though the Indians had shot three
of the whites to death.
The order of march was formed with Opecancanough
in the center, and the English
swords and muskets carried as trophies before
him. Next to him walked Smith led by two
savages, each of whom held one of his arms,
while on either side marched six in single file.
Thus the procession moved through the
forest till it reached Orapakes, a hunting home
of Powhatan, on the northern side of Chickahominy
Swamp. This village contained
// 277.png
.pn +1
about two score mat houses. The women and
children swarmed out of the dwellings and
stared in amazement at the prisoner, the like
of whom few had ever seen before. The warriors
began a grand war-dance around Smith
and Opecancanough, who stood in the middle.
When the savages had tired themselves
out they led the prisoner to a large matted
wigwam, into which he passed, while twenty
of the leading Indians mounted guard on the
outside. Smith was unbound, and he seated
himself on a bearskin near the entrance to the
lodge, wondering what was to come next.
Before long a couple of warriors appeared
bearing cooked venison and Indian bread,
which they placed on the ground before the
captive, who was so hungry that he ate his
fill. After this enough was left for a dozen
men. His attendants put it into baskets, and
swung them from the roof over his head, but
to Smith’s surprise ate nothing themselves.
The wintry afternoon was drawing to a
close, and the Captain was so exhausted that
he stretched out on the bearskin and soon fell
asleep. A fire had been kindled on the farther
side of the wigwam, which so filled it with
warmth that he was comfortable, though
naturally his mind was greatly disturbed.
Before closing his eyes he saw the shadowy
forms of men, women and children, who kept
coming to the entrance and peeping in. The
// 278.png
.pn +1
door consisted of the skin of a bear, which was
frequently drawn aside, and then the Captain
saw several pairs of bright eyes studying him.
He heard their whispers, after which they
withdrew, and their places were taken by
others as curious as they.
About midnight Smith awoke. Someone
threw more wood on the fire, and by the light
that filled the apartment he saw two others
bearing venison and bread, which they placed
at the head of his couch. The prisoner
smiled.
“I have eaten enough to last me till tomorrow,”
he said. “You may take this away,
and wait till I am hungry again.”
But they gave no heed, and, having set
down the food, passed softly out into the
open air.
“Why are they feeding me so well?” he
asked himself. “They must know I have
had my fill—and therefore do not need any
more—”
A dreadful suspicion flashed over him.
“They are fattening me like a pig, so that
I shall be in good condition for them to eat!”
// 279.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-11
CHAPTER XI.||THE FRIEND IN NEED
.sp 2
Now, if a boy, while eating a fine dinner,
should suddenly form the belief that the men
who gave the food to him meant it to make
him plumper, so that he would form a better
dinner for them, I am sure he would not have
much appetite left. Captain John Smith
came to this belief not many hours after
finishing a bountiful meal provided by his
Indian captors, and he made up his mind not
to eat another mouthful. If they meant to
feast upon their prisoner, they should find
him in the poorest condition possible.
It is easy for anyone to form such a resolve
when he has no craving for food, but with the
next morning it seemed to Smith that he was
never hungrier in his life. And there were
two big baskets of pone and venison. After
thinking over the question he decided that he
might as well eat what was set before him,
and begin his fasting after that. By and by
it was not hard to persuade himself that it
would really make no difference as to what
would be finally done with him. So he gave
over all thought of punishing himself by
// 280.png
.pn +1
going hungry when there was nothing to be
gained by it.
The Indians spared his life so long that
Captain Smith began to hope they would let
him return to Jamestown. When he was
taken before a sick man he told the friends
he could get his medicine at the settlement
that would make the patient well, but they
were too cunning to let him go after it.
The next proposal of his captors was that
he should help them in destroying Jamestown.
They told him nothing could save the place,
for the tribes had determined not to allow a
white man to remain alive. They promised
to give Smith all the lands he could ask, with
liberty to choose as many wives as he pleased.
He assured the Indians that it was out of their
power to hurt the settlement, and that those
who tried to do so would suffer awful consequences.
His words produced the effect he
intended, and the plan was given up.
Smith next did a thing that filled the red
men with astonishment. He tore a leaf
from his pocket-book, and with a piece of red
chalk, whittled to a point, he wrote several
sentences. Holding up the slip with the
writing on it, he said to the staring warriors:
“The words I speak to you have been put
on this paper; they ask my friends at Jamestown
to give you the articles which I name.
Let some of your messengers take this to
// 281.png
.pn +1
Jamestown and show it to my people there,
and you will see that I have spoken with a
single tongue.”
Not believing what he said, two of
fleetest runners set out for the settlement.
It was the depth of winter, when there was
a good deal of snow on the ground, and the
weather was very cold. But the messengers
made the journey, and handed the paper to
the persons there, who straightway gave them
the trifling articles called for, to the unbounded
astonishment of the runners, who could not
understand how the strange thing was done.
It need hardly be said that the paper contained
more on it than the writer had read
to the Indians. He told his friends of the
plan of the red men to destroy the place, and
urged upon them to use the utmost diligence
against surprise. In order to impress their
dusky visitors, the settlers fired several of
their cannon among the ice-laden trees. The
shots made a great racket, and sent the
branches and bits of ice flying in all directions.
When the runners came back to their people
and told what they had seen, and proved
that the prisoner had really spoken by means
of the paper to his friends many miles away,
their amazement was beyond words.
Now followed several weeks during which
Captain Smith was on exhibition. He was
paraded through the country, with crowds
// 282.png
.pn +1
swarming to look at him, as we do in these
times when some new and strange animal is
shown in the museums. No harm was offered
him, but he could never feel secure against
death, and he was always looking for a chance
to escape. Not once, however, did he dare
make the attempt. His captors were so
watchful that he knew he must fail, and
they would be sure to punish him, probably
by slaying him at once.
During these troublous times Smith kept
looking for Pocahontas or her brother Nantaquas.
They must have known of the kindness
he had shown the girl, and it would seem
that gratitude would lead them to do all they
could for him. But he saw nothing of either.
His excursions were through the lands that
were directly ruled by Opecancanough. The
old Indian capital was on York River, about
twenty-five miles below the present village
of West Point. The spot was known as the
“Chief Place of Council,” the Indian name
being Werowocomoco.
Finally, as if Opecancanough could not
decide for himself what should be done with
the captive, who had been exhibited through
the country, he was taken to Werowocomoco,
before the mighty Powhatan himself. There
the great question was to be settled by the
most powerful Emperor of all the Indians.
The scene was striking. The tall, glum,
// 283.png
.pn +1
haughty Powhatan sat on a framework or
couch, suggestive of a throne, covered with
mats, and in front of a large fire. He was
wrapped in a robe of raccoon skin. On each
side sat a young woman who was his wife, and
along the sides of the royal lodge stood two
rows of men, with the same number of women
standing directly behind them. The faces
and shoulders of all the females were stained
red, most of their heads were adorned with
white down, and strings of white beads were
around their necks. It was fortunate for the
women that such a large fire was burning in
the wigwam, for they had very scant covering
on their bodies.
As Captain Smith was brought before this
imposing company, naturally he was filled
with wonder as to what the end would be.
He knew that the grim, gaunt Emperor was
about to decide his fate—or, rather, would
make it known, for the prisoner had been led
thither to hear his sentence.
As the Captain made a grave obeisance to
Powhatan he cast searching looks around the
lodge in quest of Pocahontas and her brother
Nantaquas, and saw the latter. He was
standing on the right of the Emperor, at the
head of the double line of warriors, which
was the place of honor. All these men had
their weapons with them. Knives and tomahawks
showed in their girdles, and the end
// 284.png
.pn +1
of each bow, as tall as themselves, rested on
the floor, being grasped around the thick portion
in the middle.
Smith noticed that the stature of Nantaquas
was the equal of the warrior next to him,
though, in truth, he was only a boy. His
eyes met those of Smith, but there was not
the slightest change of expression. Whatever
his feelings might be, the youth dared
give no sign in the presence of his stern father.
But where was Pocahontas? Twice, Smith
searched hurriedly among the group, all of
whom he saw despite the rows in front, but
that fair, pitying face was not among them.
The prisoner’s heart sank. He gave up hope.
A woman known as the “Queen of Appomattox”
was ordered to bring a wooden bowl of
water, in which he washed his hands.
Another woman handed him a soft bunch of
feathers, which he used as a towel. After
this came a barbarous feast for the hapless
captive, and then a long consultation.
It is probable that Powhatan and his
brother chiefs would have spared Captain
Smith, but for the fact that he had slain two
of their number. That was an offence which
could not be forgiven, and he was sentenced
to death. Two warriors appeared at the entrance
of the lodge, each bearing a heavy
stone. It was the most they could do to
carry them to the open space in front of the
// 285.png
.pn +1
chieftain, where they were laid on the ground,
beside each other.
At a sign from Powhatan half a dozen of
his men sprang to where Smith stood, watching
the dreadful preparations. He was dragged
and pushed forward, his hands tied behind his
back and then flung to the ground, and his
head forced down, so that it rested on the
larger of the two stones. He did not resist,
for this man of so many strange adventures
felt that the last of them all had come.
Hardly had his head been placed on the
rough support, when most of the warriors
fell away, leaving one ranged on either side
of the prostrate captive. These stood near
his shoulders, and each grasped a huge club,
the large end swinging clear of the ground,
in position for them to draw it back and
bring it down on the head of Smith with such
force that no second blow on the part of either
would be needed.
It was an awful moment. Intense silence
reigned in the lodge. No one seemed to
breathe, and only the soft rustle of the fire
and the moaning of the wintry wind outside
the wigwam broke the stillness. The position
of everyone was rigid, and all eyes were
fixed upon the captive and his executioners.
Not a sign of pity showed on the face of anyone.
The countenance of Powhatan was
like that of a graven image, but his black
// 286.png
.pn +1
eyes gleamed. To him the tragedy was one
of fine enjoyment. He did not give any command
or speak, for it was not needed. The
couple with the clubs knew their duty.
At this moment of tense emotion a movement
was heard on the left of the Emperor,
and just behind the wife who was standing
at the head of the row. With a gasping exclamation,
Pocahontas dashed between the
men in front of her, thrusting them out of her
path, and, bounding like a fawn across the
intervening space, dropped on one knee,
placed an arm on either side of the Captain’s
head, and with tears streaming down her
cheeks, looked up at her father.
“You must not kill him! He is my friend!
He was kind to Pocahontas! Spare his life,
dear father, for me!”
No one moved or spoke. Powhatan glared
angrily at his daughter for neither she nor
anyone had ever dared to do a thing like this
before. Had it been anyone else, he would
have struck the person dead at his feet.
But he could not raise his hand against
the loved child of his heart. He started to
rise, but changed his mind and sank back
again. The executioners looked at him,
awaiting his command, and paying no attention
to the girl kneeling between them, with
her arms still about the neck of Captain
Smith, who looked up into her dark, pitying
// 287.png
.pn +1
eyes. A warm tear fell on his bronzed forehead.
With one hand Pocahontas brushed
back the heavy brown hair which had dropped
over his eyes, and smiling through her grief,
said:
“You shall not be harmed! Your life is
spared!”
“How can you know that, my good friend?”
“Do you not see?” she asked in turn,
grasping one of his bound arms above the
elbow, as if to help him to his feet.
At this moment Captain Smith saw what
she meant by her question. The warriors
with their huge clubs had stepped away from
the two. Powhatan could not deny the
prayer of Pocahontas, and had signalled to
them to spare the life of the white man.
When the Captain stood erect, his face
flushed with embarrassment. Not knowing
what to do, he did nothing, but stood with
his eyes on the ground. Pocahontas fluttered
about him like a bird. She tried to untie the
knots that bound his wrists behind his back,
and though she would have succeeded in a
few minutes, she was impatient. She beckoned
to her brother Nantaquas, who came
hastily forward and cut the thongs with his
knife. He turned inquiringly to Powhatan,
who motioned for his son to take the man away.
Clasping the hand of the prisoner in his own,
the youth led him through the door to the
// 288.png
.pn +1
outside of the wigwam. Pocahontas did not
follow, but did another thing that astonished
the group gathered round. Forgetful of all
kingly dignity in the stress of her feelings, she
bounded to the throne, flung her arms about
the neck of her parent, and laying her head
on the gaunt shoulder, sobbed with thankfulness,
murmuring words which only Powhatan
could hear.
And for the moment he forgot that he was
King. He stroked the masses of black hair
until she regained command of herself, when
he told her in a low voice that he had spared
the prisoner because he could deny nothing
to the one who asked it. She faced about with
glowing countenance, on which the tears still
shone, and moved back to the place she had
held before doing the noble act.
Meanwhile Nantaquas guided Captain
Smith to his own lodge, which stood at the
eastern end of the village. It was small, for
only he dwelt there. It was hardly a dozen
feet in length, and no more than two-thirds
of that in width, but a fire was smouldering
at the farther end, the skins of animals were
spread on the ground, and his favorite bow
leaned in one corner. On the ridge pole of the
wigwam were hung the furs of bears, deer,
and wolf. Primitive as was the dwelling,
it was as comfortable as it could be.
Captain Smith was not a “gushing” man.
// 289.png
.pn +1
In this respect he was like Nantaquas. The
Indian youth had learned the white men’s
custom of greeting one another by shaking
hands. When the Captain, therefore, offered
his hand to his friend, it was grasped by him.
“I shall always be thankful to you, Nantaquas.”
“Your thanks belong to my sister,” was
the gentle reply.
“I know that, and she will ever dwell in my
heart. Does this mean that my life is spared
for a short time only?”
“I will learn; wait till I come back.”
Lifting the flap of the lodge, the dusky
youth slipped outside. Captain Smith sat
down on one of the furs spread on the floor,
and gave himself over to thinking of the
strange things that had come to him in the
past. He was sitting thus, sunk in meditation,
when his friend returned.
Nantaquas had talked with Powhatan, who
told him that Smith was to stay among the
Indians, and give his time to the making of
moccasins, bows and arrows, robes and pots,
and especially to the manufacture of beads,
bells, and copper trinkets for Pocahontas.
The Captain accepted the proposal with great
pleasure, for he knew that the end, sooner or
later, would be his return to Jamestown.
What a contrast between the many stormy
scenes he had passed through and this quiet
// 290.png
.pn +1
toiling in the depths of the American woods!
He took up the task with the same energy he
put in everything, and pleased Nantaquas;
who showed a real friendship for him. Powhatan
was also well satisfied, and Pocahontas,
who often came to the little workshop and
watched the sturdy Captain at labor, was
delighted. She would sometimes sit for a
long time on a mat in front of him, noting
with childish interest the movements of the
sturdy fingers that were more used to handling
the sword than to fashioning the delicate
ornaments and trinkets. She could not restrain
her happiness as the articles gradually
took form. When the Captain completed a
pair of moccasins that were as dainty as the
slippers of Cinderella, she slipped them on her
feet, clapped her hands, and danced about the
wigwam, just as any little English or American
girl would have done. Nantaquas and
Captain Smith smiled at the pretty picture,
and the brave and good Captain felt well rewarded
for his trouble. Indeed, could he ever
repay this sweet daughter of the forest for
what she had done for him? He often asked
himself the question, and the answer was
always a soft but earnest “No!”
// 291.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch2-12
CHAPTER XII.||CONCLUSION
.sp 2
Powhatan left no doubt of his friendly feeling
towards Captain Smith when, six weeks
after he started on his voyage up the Chickahominy,
the sachem allowed him to return
under guard to Jamestown. He received a
warm welcome from his countrymen, and the
Indians who had come with him were sent
back to Powhatan with many presents for
themselves, and still more for the American
Emperor himself.
It is one of the many proofs of the fine
character of Captain John Smith and of his
great service to the colony, that, brief as had
been his absence, the settlement had reached
the verge of ruin. The little church had been
burned, and the good minister held religious
services under the trees. Of the more than a
hundred men who had come across the ocean
a few months before, only forty were alive.
On the very day that Smith arrived at the
settlement, the new President Ratcliffe and
several of his friends had seized the pinnace—the
only boat left—and were about to sail for
England. This was the third attempt of that
kind, and it was defeated again by Smith, who
// 292.png
.pn +1
would have shot every man of them had they
not come back to land and surrendered.
Now, what do you suppose was the next
step of those wicked persons? You must
remember that they had other friends, base
as they were. They said that under the old
Levitical law Smith was guilty of the deaths
of the men that had been slain by Indians.
They would have hanged him on the charge,
had he not ended the business by arresting
his accusers, and warning them that, if they
caused him any more trouble, he would hang
them all.
Woeful times now came to Jamestown.
You would think they could be no more dreadful
than those through which the settlement
had already passed, but the poor people,
besides quarrelling among themselves, began
starving to death. The gaunt, famished settlers
staggered along the single street, too
feeble to rise when they stumbled and fell.
All they could do was to creep into their cabins
and lie down, moaning and waiting for
death to end their sufferings. It looked as if
not a man would be left alive, and about the
only one who kept his feet and moved freely
about was Captain Smith. He was always
cheery and hopeful, and helped others by his
good spirits, which seemed never to leave him.
But the day came when even this brave
man saw no hope. He did not know where
// 293.png
.pn +1
to get the next mouthful of food without going
among the Indians, and his companions were
too worn and weak to be taken with him.
He would not leave them to their sad fate,
but was ready to die among them, as he had
been from the first.
Standing moodily on the outside of the
palisades, with arms folded and looking off
along the trail that led into the forest toward
York River, he suddenly saw a strange sight.
A girl came out from among the trees, bearing
a basket of corn on her shoulder. He had
hardly time to recognize her as Pocahontas
when he saw she was followed by other Indians.
On came the procession, until he
counted eighteen. The one next to her was
Nantaquas, and, filing after him, were other
warriors, every one of whom carried a basket
of corn or a haunch of venison. Providence
had moved their hearts with pity for the perishing
white men, and their timely visit
with food saved them when, but for such
kindness, all must have perished.
No wonder the grateful English ever after
referred to the good maiden as “the dear and
blessed Pocahontas.” She came once or
twice a week for months, bringing supplies
through the woods from the York River to
Jamestown. It was she who took the first
step in this good work, and Powhatan was
willing, for he felt friendly at the time towards
// 294.png
.pn +1
the whites. Years after, in a letter to the
Queen, Captain Smith referred to these acts
of Pocahontas in the following quaint words:
“During the time of two or three years she
next under God, was still the instrument to
preserve this colony from death, famine, and
utter confusion, which, if in those days had
once been dissolved, Virginia might have lain
as it was at our first arrival to this day.”
I have not the space to tell you the later
history of Virginia. Its troubles were by no
means ended, and many dark days followed—days
when it looked as if nothing could save
the colony from passing away. I have aimed
rather to show something of the great services
of Pocahontas, daughter of Powhatan, who
ruled over thirty tribes of Indians, She never
showed any weakening of her friendship for
the white people. Sometimes her father became
offended with them and went to war,
but nothing could shake her good will. He
even grew angry with her, but, though parent
and child could not quarrel the maiden only
became more guarded in her deeds of kindness,
when Powhatan happened to be in one of his
ugly moods.
There was a time when the chieftain’s
enmity against Smith became so deep that
he used every means he could think of to have
him put to death. The Captain was ready
to fight the Emperor, when nothing else was
// 295.png
.pn +1
left. He set out one day with a strong company
to surprise Powhatan. He had not
been gone long when nine of those whom he
had left at home went out in a boat in a
severe storm. The craft was capsized and
the whole party drowned. Smith had ordered
these men to hold themselves ready to
join him whenever he sent for them. It was
important that he should be told of the calamity
as soon as possible, so that his own expedition
might not fail through lack of the
aid he might need.
The task of reaching Smith through the
many miles of wilderness was so dangerous
that only one man in the colony was willing
to make the attempt. He was captured by
Indians and taken before Powhatan at Werowocomoco,
and the chieftain ordered him to
be put to death. Without drawing suspicion
to herself, Pocahontas got him a short distance
away in the woods, and hid him among the
bushes. He would have been found and
brought back by the warriors who set out to
search for him had she not cunningly led them
in a wrong direction. The man gained enough
start to join Smith, and tell him of the sad
accident to the men whom he had counted
upon for help.
Some time later, when matters seemed to
have quieted, a party of colonists went among
Powhatan’s people to trade, but all except
// 296.png
.pn +1
one was massacred. Pocahontas succeeded
in saving his life, and he lived many years,
secure in her friendship, among the Indians.
In 1609 Captain Smith, while on one of his
exploring expeditions, was so painfully burned
by the accidental explosion of a bag of gunpowder,
that he suffered great agony. Good
medical treatment could not be given him
at Jamestown, and he sailed for England.
He never came back to Virginia, which was
a great misfortune, since no man could be
found fitted to take his place. Of the five
hundred whom he left behind, only sixty
were alive at the end of six months. History
refers to this fearful period of Virginia as
“the Starving Time.”
When, at last, conditions improved through
the steady coming of immigrants, Captain
Argall started on a cruise up James River.
He invited Pocahontas to visit his vessel, and
she, dreaming of no evil, came aboard with
an Indian woman, who had been bribed to
play her part, under the promise of Argall
that no harm should befall the girl. The
woman was allowed to go ashore, but Pocahontas
was kept as a prisoner. The expectation
of Argall was that Powhatan would be
glad to pay a large ransom with corn for
her return to him. Instead of doing so, the
furious sachem prepared to wage a savage war
against the colony.
// 297.png
.pn +1
During these troublous weeks Pocahontas
stayed at Jamestown, where everyone treated
her kindly. John Rolfe, a member of a good
English family, became interested in the
maiden, and she returned his affection. He
was a good Churchman, and talked to Pocahontas
about the true religion. She listened
with deep interest, and soon showed that no
one understood the mysteries of the Christian
faith better than she. She was truly converted,
and asked that she might be baptized.
In the quaint little chapel at Jamestown,
whose columns were the rough pines from the
forest, whose pews were fragrant cedar, and
whose communion table and pulpit were of
black walnut, this Princess of the Woods knelt
before the font hewn out of a log, made the
responses in broken English, and received the
baptismal name of Rebecca.
Rolfe and Pocahontas were married in the
month of April, 1613. Although Powhatan
did not attend the ceremony, he cheerfully
gave his consent, and sent his brother and
two of his sons to represent him. One of
these was our old friend Nantaquas, who was
highly pleased with the marriage. The uncle
of Pocahontas gave her away in accordance
with the Anglican ritual. The windows of
the chapel were festooned with evergreens,
wild flowers, and crimson hollyberries. The
communion table was covered with spotless
// 298.png
.pn +1
white linen, and on it rested bread from
the wheat fields and wine from the native
grapes. The settlers and Indian visitors
crowded the small building, and gazed with
deep interest upon the beautiful picture.
When the bride and groom appeared, she
was dressed in a simple tunic of white muslin,
with her comely arms bared to the shoulders.
Sir Thomas Dale had presented her
with a rich robe, which she had herself embroidered.
Her abundant black hair flowed
down her back, and was encircled by a fillet,
filled with the bright plumage of birds, and
holding in its fastenings a cloudlike, misty
veil. A few simple articles of jewelry gleamed
on her wrists. Modest, loving, and beautiful,
she made a charming bride.
Nor must we forget the groom. He had
a manly figure, and with his short, full beard,
an attractive countenance. He was dressed
like an English cavalier, and wore a short
sword on his thigh as a mark of distinction.
The two stood upon the chancel steps, which
had no railing, and there the clergyman,
with impressive voice and manner, amid the
breathless hush of the spectators, made the
two man and wife.
This union was a happy one in every
respect. Husband and wife devotedly loved
each other, and Powhatan became the true
friend of the English, and so remained to
// 299.png
.pn +1
the close of his life. When Governor Dale
sailed for England in 1616, he took Rolfe
and Pocahontas with him. She was called
“Lady Rebecca,” and surely it was proper
that she should wear such honor, for was
she not the daughter of the Greatest American
King of his time? She received marked
attention from the court and leading dignitaries
in England, and everything was done
to make her feel happy in a land so new and
strange to her.
It was natural that Pocahontas should
feel anxious to meet her old friend Captain
Smith. He was the first whom she asked
about, but, to her grief, she was told that
he was dead. While mourning for him, the
Captain called upon her. She was so shocked
that she burst into tears, and asked why the
deception had been used. All sorts of explanations
and excuses were made; but you
will agree with me that none was sufficient
to justify such cruel treatment.
She soon regained her cheerfulness, and
the two sat down and had a long talk over
their lives in the land, three thousand miles
away, in the depth of the American woods.
She called the Captain “father,” and he
returned by speaking to her as “daughter.”
Since I know you feel an interest in the
brave Captain John Smith, I will say in this
place that he sailed along the coast of New
// 300.png
.pn +1
England in 1614, and gave the name of Boston
to the principal city in that region, besides
partially exploring the country. He spent
his last years in London, engaged in writing
his histories. He died in 1631, and was
buried under the chancel of St. Sepulchre’s
Church. The opening of the poetical inscription
is, “Here lies one conquered, that
hath conquered kings,” and the close of the
prayer is, that “with angels he might have
his recompense.”
Rolfe and his wife had made ready to sail
for the New World, when, at the beginning
of the year 1617, she fell ill at Gravesend,
and died at the age of twenty-two years.
She left an infant son, Thomas, who was
taken to London and educated by his uncle,
Henry Rolfe. When he reached manhood
he returned to America, gained a large fortune,
and became a gentleman of distinction.
From him some of the leading families in
Virginia today are proud to trace their
descent.
By the way, I may add, as an interesting
coincidence, the fact that the home of Little
Folks, “LaBelle Sauvage,” was thus named
in honor of Pocahontas, the “Princess of the
Woods.”
.sp 2
// 301.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
EDNA’S SACRIFICE
.nf-
.hr 10%
.nf c
BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN
.nf-
.sp 4
// 302.png
// 303.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2
EDNA’S SACRIFICE
.hr 10%
.sp 2
It was a cold night in September. For three days
the rain had fallen almost unceasingly. It had been
impossible for us to get out; and no visitors had
been in. Everything looked dreary enough, and we
felt so, truly. Of course the stoves were not prepared
for use; and this night we (that is, Nell, Floy, Aunt
Edna, and myself) were huddled in the corners of the
sofa and arm-chairs, wrapped in our shawls. We
were at our wits’ end for something to while the hours
away. We had read everything that was readable;
played until we fancied the piano sent forth a wail of
complaint, and begged for rest; were at the backgammon
board until our arms ached; and I had given imitations
of celebrated actresses, until I was hoarse, and
Nell declared I was in danger of being sued for scandal.
What more could we do? To dispel the drowsiness
that was stealing over me, I got up, walked up
and down the floor, and then drew up the blind, and
gazed out into the deserted street. Not a footfall to
be heard, neither man’s nor beast’s; nothing but patter,
patter, patter. At length, after standing fully
fifteen minutes—oh, joyful sound!—a coming footstep,
firm and quick. My first thought was that
those steps would stop at our door. But, directly
after, I felt that very improbable for who was there
that would come such a night? Papa was up north
with mamma: Nell and Floy were visiting Aunt Edna
// 304.png
.pn +1
and me, the only ones home, save the servants.
Neither of us had as yet a lover so devoted or so demented
as to come out, if he had anywhere to stay in.
On and past went the steps. Turning away, I
drew down the blind, and said: “Some one must be
ill, and that was the doctor, surely: for no one else
would go out, only those from direst necessity sent.”
A deep sigh escaped Aunt Edna’s lips, and although
partially shaded by her hand, I could see the shadow
on the beautiful face had deepened.
Why my aunt had never married was a mystery to
me, for she was lovable in every way, and must have
been very beautiful in her youth. Thirty-six she
would be next May-day, she had told me. Thirty-six
seemed to me, just sixteen, a very great many years
to have lived. But aunt always was young to us;
and the hint of her being an old maid was always resented,
very decidedly, by all her nieces.
“Aunt Edna,” I said, “tell us a story—a love-story,
please.”
“Oh, little one, you have read so many! And what
can I tell you more?” she answered, gently.
“Oh, aunty, I want a true story! Do, darling
aunty, tell us your own. Tell us why you are blessing
our home with your presence, instead of that of some
noble man, for noble he must have been to have won
your heart, and—hush-sh! Yes, yes; I know something
about somebody, and I must know all. Do,
please!”
I plead on. I always could do more with Aunt
Edna than any one else. I was named for her, and
many called me like her—“only not nearly so pretty”
was always added.
// 305.png
.pn +1
At last she consented, saying:
“Dear girls, to only one before have I given my entire
confidence, and that was my mother. I scarce
know why I have yielded to your persuasions, little
Edna, save that this night, with its gloom and rain,
carries me back long years, and my heart seems to
join its pleading with yours, yearning to cast forth
some of its fulness, and perchance find relief by pouring
into your loving heart its own sorrows. But,
darling, I would not cast my shadow over your fair
brow, even for a brief time.”
With her hand still shading her face, Aunt Edna began:
“Just such a night as this, eighteen years ago, dear
child, my fate was decided. The daughter of my
mother’s dearest friend had been with us about a year.
Dearly we all loved the gentle child, for scarcely more
than child she was—only sixteen. My mother had
taken her from the cold, lifeless form of her mother
into her own warm, loving heart, and she became to
me as a sister. So fair and frail she was! We all
watched her with the tenderest care, guarding her
from all that could chill her sensitive nature or wound
the already saddened heart. Lilly was her name.
Oh, what a delicate while lily she was when we first
brought her to our home; but after a while she was
won from her sorrow, and grew into a maiden of great
beauty. Still, with child-like, winning ways.
“Great wells of love were in her blue eyes—violet
hue he called them. Often I wondered if any one’s
gaze would linger on my dark eyes when hers were
near? Her pale golden hair was pushed off her broad
forehead and fell in heavy waves far down below her
// 306.png
.pn +1
graceful shoulders and over her black dress. Small
delicately formed features, a complexion so fair and
clear that it seemed transparent. In her blue eyes
there was always such a sad, wistful look; this, and
the gentle smile that ever hovered about her lips,
gave an expression of mingled sweetness and sorrow
that was very touching. You may imagine now how
beautiful she was.
“Her mother had passed from earth during the absence
of Lilly’s father. Across the ocean the sorrowful
tidings were borne to him. He was a naval officer.
Lilly was counting the days ere she should see him.
The good news had come that soon he would be with
her. At last the day arrived, but oh! what a terrible
sorrow it brought! When her heart was almost
bursting with joy, expecting every moment to be
clasped in those dear arms—a telegraphic dispatch
was handed in. Eagerly she caught it, tore it open,
read—and fell lifeless to the floor.
“Oh! the fearful, crushing words. We read, not of
his coming to Lilly, but of his going to her, his wife, in
heaven. Yes, truly an orphan the poor girl was then.
“In vain proved all efforts to restore her to consciousness.
Several times, when she had before
fainted, mother was the only physician needed. But
that night she shook her head and said:
“‘We must have a doctor, and quickly.’
“It was a terrible night. Our doctor was very remote.
Your father suggested another, near by.
“Dr. ——, well, never mind his name. Your
father said he had lately known him, and liked him
much.
“Through the storm he came, and by his skilful
// 307.png
.pn +1
treatment Lilly was soon restored to consciousness,
but not to health. A low nervous fever set in, and
many days we watched with fearful hearts. Ah! during
those days I learned to look too eagerly for the
doctor’s coming. Indeed, he made his way into the
hearts of all in our home. After the dreaded crisis
had passed, and we knew that Lilly would be spared
to us, the doctor told mother he should have to prescribe
for me. I had grown pale, from confinement in
the sickroom, and he must take me for a drive, that
the fresh air should bring the roses back to my cheeks.
Willingly mother consented. After that I often
went. When Lilly was able to come down-stairs,
this greatest pleasure of my life then was divided
with her. One afternoon I stood on the porch with
her, waiting while the doctor arranged something
about the harness.
“‘Oh! how I wish it was my time to go!’ she whispered.
“‘Well, darling, it shall be your time. I can go
tomorrow. Run, get your hat and wraps,’ I said,
really glad to give any additional pleasure to this
child of many sorrows.
“‘No, no, that would not be fair. And, Edna,
don’t you know that tomorrow I would be so sorry if I
went today? I do not mean to be selfish, but, oh,
indeed, I cannot help it! I am wishing every time to
go. Not that I care for a ride—’ She hesitated,
flushed, and whispered: ‘I like to be with my doctor.
Don’t you, Edna? Oh! I wish he was my father,
or brother, or cousin—just to be with us all the
time, you know.’
“Just then the doctor came for me, and I had to
// 308.png
.pn +1
leave her. As we drove off I looked back and kissed
my hand to her, saying:
“‘Dear little thing! I wish she was going with us.’
“‘I do not,’ the doctor surprised me by saying.
“I raised my eyes inquiringly to his. In those
beautiful, earnest eyes I saw something that made me
profoundly happy. I could not speak. After a moment
he added:
“‘She is a beautiful, winning child, and I enjoy her
company. But when with her, I feel as if it was my
duty to devote myself entirely to her—in a word, to
take care of her, or, I should say, to care for her only.
And this afternoon, of all others, I do not feel like
having Lilly with us.’
“That afternoon was one of the happiest of my
life. Although not a word of love passed his lips, I
knew it filled his heart, and was for me. He told me
of his home, his relatives, his past life. Of his
mother he said:
“‘When you know her, you will love her dearly.’
“He seemed to be sure that I should know her.
And then—ah, well, I thought so too, then.
“Lilly was waiting for us when we returned. He
chided her for being out so late. It was quite dark.
Tears filled her eyes as she raised them to his and said:
“‘Don’t be angry. I could not help watching.
Oh, why did you stay so long? I thought you would
never come back. I was afraid something had happened—that
the horse had run away, or—’
“‘Angry I could not be with you, little one. But
I don’t want you to get sick again. Come, now, smile
away your tears and fears! Your friend is safe and
with you again,’ the doctor answered.”
// 309.png
.pn +1
Taking her hand, he led her into the parlor.
“He had not understood the cause of her tears.
Only for him she watched and wept.
“‘Do stay,’ she plead, when her doctor was going.
“He told her he could not, then; there was another
call he must make, but would return after a while.
“She counted the minutes, until she should see him
again. Never concealing from any of us how dearly
she loved him. She was truly as guileless as a child of
six years.
“From the first of her acquaintance with him, she
had declared ‘her doctor’ was like her father. Mother
too, admitted, the resemblance was very decided.
“This it was, I think, that first made him so dear to
her.
“Several times, after the doctor returned that
evening, I saw he sought opportunity to speak to me,
unheard by others. But Lilly was always near.
“Ah! it was better so. Better that from his own
lips I heard not those words he would have spoken.
Doubly hard would have been the trial. Oh, that
night when he said, ‘good-byee!’ He slipped in my
hand a little roll of paper. As Lilly still stood at the
window, watching as long as she could see him, I
stole away to open the paper. Then, for a while, I
forgot Lilly, aye, forgot everything, in my great happiness.
He loved me! On my finger sparkled the
beautiful diamond—my engagement ring—to be
worn on the morrow, ‘if I could return his love,’ he
said.
“Quickly I hid my treasures away, his note and
the ring—Lilly was coming.
// 310.png
.pn +1
“She was not yet strong, and soon tired. I helped
her to get off her clothes, and as she kissed me good-night,
she said:
“‘I wish we had a picture of him—don’t you?’
“‘Who, dear?’ I asked.
“‘My doctor! Who else? You tease. You knew
well enough,’ she answered, as she nestled her pretty
head closer to mine.
“Soon she was sleeping and dreaming of him.
Sweet dreams at first I knew they were; for soft smiles
flitted over her face.
“I could not sleep. A great fear stole in upon my
happiness. Did not Lilly love him too? How would
she receive the news which soon must reach her?
Was her love such as mine? Such as is given to but
one alone? Or only as a brother did she love him?
I must know how it was. Heaven grant that joy for
one would not bring sorrow to the other, I prayed.
I had not long to wait. Her dreams became troubled.
Her lips quivered and trembled, and then with a cry
of agony she started up.
“‘Gone, gone, gone!’ she sobbed.
“It was many minutes ere I succeeded in calming
and making her understand ’twas but a dream.
“‘Oh, but so real, so dreadfully real. I thought
he did not care for me. That he had gone and left me,
and they told me he was married!’
“Telling this, she began to sob again.
“‘Lilly, dear, tell me truly—tell your sister,
your very best friend—how it is you love your doctor?’
I asked.
“‘How?’ she returned. ‘Oh, Edna, more than
all the world! He is all that I have lost and more;
// 311.png
.pn +1
and if he should die, or I should lose him, I would not
wish to live. I could not live. He loves me a little,
does he not, Edna?’
“I could not reply. Just then there was a terrible
struggle going on in my heart. That must be ended,
the victory won ere I could speak. She waited for my
answer and then said, eagerly:
“‘Oh, speak, do! What are you thinking about?’
“Pressing back the sigh—back and far down into
the poor heart—I gave her the sweet, and kept the
bitter part, when I could answer.
“‘Yes, dear, I do think he loves you a little now,
and will, by-and-by, love you dearly. God grant he
may!’
“‘Oh, you darling Edna! You have made me so
happy!’ she cried, kissing me; and still caressing me
she fell asleep.
“Next morning I enclosed the ring, with only
these words:
“‘Forgive if I cause you sorrow, and believe me
your true friend. I return the ring that I am not
free to accept.’
“I intended that my reply should mislead him,
when I wrote that I was not free, and thus to crush
any hope that might linger in his heart. While at
breakfast that morning, we received a telegram that
grandma was extremely ill, and wanted me. Thus,
fate seemed to forward my plans. I had thought to
go away for a while. I told mother all. How her
dear heart ached for me! Yet she dared not say
aught against my decision. She took charge of the
note for the doctor, and by noon I was on my journey.
Two years passed ere I returned home. Mother wrote
// 312.png
.pn +1
me but little news of either Lilly or her doctor after
the first letter, telling that my note was a severe
shock and great disappointment. Three or four
months elapsed before grandma was strong enough
for me to leave her. An opportunity at that time presented
for my going to Europe. I wanted such an
entire change, and gladly accepted. Frequently came
letters from Lilly. For many months they were filled
with doubts and anxiety; but after a while came happier
and shorter ones. Ah, she had only time to be
with him, and to think in his absence of his coming
again.
“When I was beginning to tire of all the wonders
and grandeur of the old world, and nothing would
still the longing for home, the tidings came they were
married, Lilly and her doctor, and gone to his western
home to take charge of the patients of his uncle, who
had retired from practice. Then I hastened back,
and ever since, dear girls, I have been contented, finding
much happiness in trying to contribute to that of
those so dear. Now, little Edna, you have my only
love-story, its beginning and ending.”
“But, aunty, do tell me his name,” I said. “Indeed,
it is not merely idle curiosity. I just feel as if
I must know it—that it is for something very important.
Now you need not smile. I’m very earnest,
and I shall not sleep until I know. I really felt
a presentiment that if I knew his name it might in
some way affect the conclusion of the story.”
“Well, my child, I may as well tell you. Dr. Graham
it was—Percy Graham,” Aunt Edna answered,
low.
// 313.png
.pn +1
“Ah! did I not tell you? It was not curiosity.
Listen, aunty mine. While you were away last winter,
papa received a paper from St. Louis; he handed
it to me, pointing to an announcement. But I will
run get it. He told me to show it to you, and I forgot.
I did not dream of all this.”
From my scrap-book I brought the slip, and Aunt
Edna read:
“Died.—Suddenly, of heart disease, on the morning
of the 15th, Lilly, wife of Doctor Percy Graham, in
the 34th year of her age.”
Aunt Edna remained holding the paper, without
speaking, for some minutes; then, handing it back to
me, she said, softly, as if talking to her friend:
“Dear Lilly! Thank heaven, I gave to you the
best I had to give, and caused you naught but happiness.
God is merciful! Had he been taken, and you
left, how could we have comforted you?” And then,
turning to me, she said: “Nearly a year it is since
Lilly went to heaven. ’Tis strange I have not heard
of this.”
“’Tis strange from him you have not heard,” I
thought; “and stranger still ’twill be if he comes not
when the year is over. For surely he must know that
you are free—” But I kept my thoughts, and soon
after kissed aunty good-night.
One month passed, and the year was out. And
somebody was in our parlor, making arrangements to
carry away Aunt Edna. I knew it was he, when he
met me at the hall door, and said:
“Edna—Miss Linden! can it be?”
“Yes and no, sir—both—Edna Linden; but, Doctor
Graham, not your Edna. You will find her in the
// 314.png
.pn +1
parlor,” I answered, saucily, glad and sorry, both, at
his coming.
Ah, she welcomed him with profound joy, I know.
He knew all; papa had told him. And if he loved the
beautiful girl, he then worshipped that noble woman.
“Thank God! Mine at last!” I heard him say,
with fervent joy, as I passed the door, an hour after.
How beautiful she was, when, a few weeks after,
she became his very own. I stood beside her and
drew off her glove. How happy he looked as he
placed the heavy gold circlet on her finger! How
proudly he bore her down the crowded church aisle!
Ah, little Lilly was no doubt his dear and cherished
wife. But this one, ’twas plain to see, was the one
love of his life.
.sp 4
.nf c
THE END.
.nf-
.sp 2
.pb
\_ // this gets the sp 4 recognized.
.sp 2
.dv class=tnbox // TN box start
.ul
.it Transcriber’s Notes:
.ul indent=1
.it Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
.it Typographical errors were silently corrected.
.it Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a\
predominant form was found in this book.
.if t
.it Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
.if-
.ul-
.ul-
.dv- // TN box end
\_