CAMPING DAYS
Tavia got off the train at the Junction, but she did not get on the
one that went toward Clamberton--it flew by. She waved her
handkerchief--she waved her coat, she told herself she waved her soul,
but that train simply would not stop.
And she was miles from nowhere!
"Well, I'll walk it!" she declared. "I don't care how I get there, I'm
going to keep my nose toward camp!"
To walk the railroad ties! That was one thing Tavia loathed--they were
so regular, so straight, so abominably correct.
"Of course railroad ties were never built for human feet, even the
straight and narrow are not as straight as these."
She moved along for a hundred or so of ties, then she threatened to
sit down. Tavia was desperate, but even in her present surprising
state of mind, the railroad ties were too much for her, and she kept
on.
"I might fly," she reflected, looking boldly at the ocean of blue
above, "but there isn't a machine in sight."
More and more ties until she came to a small bridge.
"Well, I suppose if I try to walk this thing I shall presently find
myself holding a session with some slimy, muddy frogs. Ugh!" and she
looked between the ties at the lurking depths of mud and other things
on either side of the railroad embankment. "I just hate--uncertainties."
She stepped cautiously a little farther. "Well, if I fall it serves me
right. I shouldn't have done this!"
Tavia--poor Tavia!
The place was very lonely. Tavia realized this. She knew instantly
that she was in the woods. It may have been her primitive hatred of
the forest that inspired this sentiment, but there was always
something about the depths of solitude that made her want to laugh--it
was positively funny to her. Something must happen.
"If there were a single human being in sight," she sighed. Then she
repeated, "I said 'single.'"
It was almost dusk. She thought of old Sam. Wasn't that funny! Then of
her mending--shirring socks! When he tried them on he might change
his mind about making her his heir.
"And that loon!" This last referred to Morrison. "When I believed him,
I may, some day, believe myself!"
She picked out a few more ties, and came to another and larger
culvert. "Suppose a train should come," she gasped. The strain of the
past few days was having its natural revenge--reaction. Her depression
had soured into hilarity. "Well, I'll run the bridge--I have always
heard it is the only safe way." She looked up, far beyond the ties.
She would have closed her eyes, but that strange feeling of
sight-security, which does not depend upon sight, compelled her to
look--but not at the ties.
Every time she planted her foot down she expected to go through, foot
and all, but, somehow, she did not sink down between the ties.
"It would take a funnel to put me safely down that way," she decided.
"I guess I would have to have a very big hole to drop through."
It seemed to Tavia that everything she had to do must be made easy for
her, even dropping through railroad ties!
She had crossed the bridge and now she stood for a moment mocking it.
"I should burn my bridges behind me," she mused, "but it takes time
and talent, even to burn bridges."
Those who knew Tavia would scarcely have recognized her now, could
they have viewed her through the glass with which she was magnifying
her faults. Tavia had been tried, she had tried herself, and after
having had an opportunity to board any of three trains going toward
camp, here she was again--stranded!
"I'm a first-class simpleton," she decided. "Dorothy was right; always
right. I'm a rattle-brain; and they think I am drowned. That is more
reasonable, and more charitable, than to think I could be so foolish."
"I guess I couldn't get along very well without Dorothy," she went on
thinking, as she trudged forward. "She always kept me together. But at
least I'll try to do her training justice now. I'll try to walk back
to camp."
A narrow path ran beside the rails. This, Tavia thought had been
trodden down by tramps. Beyond, there seemed nothing but woods, and it
was getting dusk. Well, there must be houses or huts somewhere, and
she would walk on.
Peering through the trees, Tavia thought she saw a white speck. It
might be a bird--no, it was too large! What could it be?
It moved swiftly--now she could see it was--not a person! But it
couldn't be anything else, since there really were no ghosts. But were
there really none? Just now Tavia felt as if nothing was certain, not
even her own personality.
There it was again, out in the clear path! All in white! Oh, it must
be a spirit!
How silly!
"It's a girl," Tavia said aloud. "Oh, how glad I am to see the face of
a human being!"
It was a girl, and she moved swiftly toward Tavia.
"Oh, how do you do?" she began. "I was afraid you would not come."
Tavia wondered. Did the girl take her for some one else?
"I'm awfully glad to meet you," answered Tavia, noting how pretty the
creature was, what splendid blond hair, and such eyes! "I was just
getting--frightened."
"Frightened! Why, we will soon be all right. I have ordered my
airship. Can you fly?"
Could she fly? Was the girl crazy?
Then Tavia noticed a strange glare in the wonderful blue eyes. She
might be insane! Maybe she was the girl who had escaped from the
sanitarium!
"I love to fly--it is my one ambition in life. But they would never
let me, so I just came away by myself; and isn't it sweet of you to
meet me away out here? There, did you see that bird? That's the way to
fly," and the strange girl threw her arms up and down, until Tavia
wondered whether she could be fooling, or was really insane.
"I have never tried to fly," replied Tavia, feeling very silly, "but
lots of people have gone crazy over it."
The moment she had said "crazy" she felt that she had made a mistake.
The girl turned on her as if to strike her.
"Crazy! You call flying crazy! It's crazy to walk, crazy to stand, but
it is noble to fly!" and again she worked her arms bird-like.
For the moment Tavia felt like running away. Then she thought that
would not be wise, for how did she know but that the girl might have
the strength they say insane people have; and that she might hit her
with a stone, or do something to injure her? Besides, it seemed better
to be with her than alone in that woods. Tavia decided she would humor
her.
"Of course, we shall all fly, some day," she said, as the girl turned
almost upon her. "I would love to learn how!"
"You shall! I will teach you! My airship is not far away."
"Do you know the road to Everglade?" asked Tavia, without the
slightest hope of getting an intelligent answer.
"Why, yes; Everglade?" and her eyes set more deeply. "I have a friend
in camp out that way."
In camp! Then she was not altogether insane, for there were many
campers at Everglade.
"Yes," said Tavia, "so have I. We can walk along together."
This seemed to satisfy the girl, and she did start to tramp along.
Tavia noticed how neatly she was dressed, and did not fail to see a
beautiful chain and ornament about her slender white throat.
"But it's a long way," spoke the girl. "My name is Bird of Paradise.
What might yours be?"
"Betsy Dixon," replied Tavia aptly. "Yours is a much prettier name.
May I call you Birdie?"
"Certainly, and I shall call you Betty. I have a friend named Betty."
For some moments they walked along in silence. The two girls were as
different in dress and manner as were Dorothy and Tavia, and the
latter noticed how much like Dorothy the strange girl was. About the
same height, same colored hair, and the same deep, blue eyes.
"Are there no houses near here?" asked Tavia. "I am afraid night will
catch us soon."
"Oh, yes, there is a hotel over that ledge. It is there I am taking
you."
Tavia hoped it was true. She had passed through the stage of
sensitiveness, and was now only anxious to get somewhere or near
somewhere, for the night. She had made up her mind that she would ask
the first person she met to help her, with money or by directing her
to shelter. There was no longer any doubt as to her distress--night
was coming and she was almost worse than alone, and in the woods.
The girl in white walked along humming now, waving her arms every time
a bird passed, and when she did speak to Tavia her remarks seemed more
rambling than ever.
"We seem miles from every place," remarked Tavia weakly. "I do
wish----"
"There! There!" exclaimed the strange girl. "There is my flying
station! See that precipice?" pointing to a cliff far out on the ledge
of the hill over which they were walking. "Just over there is my
station. I told you I was Bird of Paradise. I am not--I am Madam
Fly-Fly, the French balloonist. Now watch me!"
"Don't!" shrieked Tavia. But it was too late. The girl had rushed to
the edge of the cliff, and with a wild wave of her arms had thrown
herself over!
Tavia, stunned at the suddenness of her tragic action, stood for a
moment looking down at the heap of white that lay so far below her.
Then she turned cautiously, and started down the dangerous descent
herself, clutching at brush and bramble as she tried to reach the
girl, who might be dead, in the moss and rocks that made such a
beautiful setting for the stream rambling on, unmindful of the terror
on its brink.
Tavia must reach the girl; but what then?