THE SCENE IS SET
In history we read that while the hardy pioneers toiled and suffered in
the New England forest the gay votaries of fashion danced and made
merry in the royal courts of Europe. And history repeats itself, for
while Minerva Skybrow and her girl companions decked the Skybrow lawn
with lanterns of many colors, and frilled their hair, and festooned the
rustic summer-house with streamers, the sturdy adventurers who swore
allegiance to the martial traffic sign of Pee-wee Harris were suffering
as no hardy pioneer had ever suffered before as they loyally partook of
the hunter's stew which their leader had prepared in the dishpan. If,
indeed, this novel concoction was the favorite fare of hunters, it is
no wonder that the race of hunters is becoming extinct. But our
business is not with the explorers.
The spacious lawn of the Skybrow home was bathed in the soft light of
many paper lanterns depending from cords strung from tree to tree.
Other lanterns nestled in the spreading trees like jewels in a setting
of foliage.
On that night the genial moon smiled down upon the Camp-fire Girls and
sent his myriad of rays like a serenading party to enliven the festive
scene. The place looked like some enchanted grove. A platform had
been built for the dancing, several little khaki-colored tents that had
done service in the North Woods (north of Bridgeboro) dotted the lawn,
the emblem of the Camp-fire Girls waved above the summer-house, bathed
in the glow of a small search-light, and, glory of glories, a small
tent nestling under a spreading elm near the moonlit river contained a
table which looked like a snowy monument reared in tribute to the god
of food.
Yes, Roy was right; the Skybrows did not do these things by halves.
Here indeed was a haven for the famished; here rescue awaited the
starving scout. In the center stood a pyramid of triangular
sandwiches, rivalling in magnitude the pyramids of Egypt. This was
flanked by two gorgeous icing cakes, one white and one brown. A bowl
of chicken salad overflowed its cut glass confines, the same as
Pee-wee's island had overflowed its trusty scow.
It is true that the much feared salted almonds were there but they
crouched in shame under the spreading sides of a wooden hash-bowl
camouflaged with crepe paper and piled with jellied doughnuts. If
there were any lady fingers they did not show their faces (if lady
fingers have faces) but the jovial raspberry tart was there in all its
glory a hundred strong.
"Oh, I think everything is perfectly _scrumptious_," said Minerva
Skybrow, completing a tour of inspection at this culinary paradise and
allowing herself an olive or two.
"Goodness gracious, let them alone or there won't be any left," said
Miss Dora Dane Daring.
"Silly!" said Minerva. "There are _oceans_ of them. Doesn't the river
look perfectly lovely in the moonlight?"
"Oh, I think everything is _perfectly adorable_," said another friend;
"and the weather is just _heavenly_. For goodness' sakes, let the
candy alone; that's the fourth piece you took."
"Listen," said Minerva. "I'm not going to let a _single one_ of them
come out here till they have all arrived. We're going to have the
concert in the house first and they've _just got_ to listen to Mrs.
Wild speak about the Camp-fire movement, because she's just _perfectly
wonderful_. Do you know, I wish I had put the refreshments in the
summer house. No, I don't either--yes, I do. It would have been more
romantic--_rustic_."
"Oh, I think this tent is _perfect_," said another girl, slyly helping
herself to a salted almond.
"I know," said Minerva, her hand stealing unconsciously toward a box of
marshmallows, "I know, but what I wanted was something
unusual--symbolic. A rustic platform in one of the big trees would
have been nice; it would have been sort of--sort of _scoutish_. I want
to have things _different_. That's why boys always make fun of the
Camp-fire Girls, they think we're _tame_. Think how Roy Blakeley and
his friends actually camped in that adorable old railroad car while it
was traveling, goodness knows where. When I went to the Aero Club
reception with Harold Fall they had the refreshments in a great
balloon; we had to go up to it on a ladder--_shh_, listen! Did you
hear a noise?"
A chorus of excited whisperings followed her startled query.
"No, where?"
"What was it?"
"Was it a voice?"
"You mean on the river?"
"_Shh_, listen," said Minerva; "_look_, do you see a light--right there
among the bushes? _Shh_. Don't run."
There was indeed a light shining through the dark foliage alongshore
and presently a voice was to be heard, a voice speaking words to strike
terror to the stoutest Camp-fire Girl heart.
"I watched for the cops," it said, "and as soon as I saw them I beat it
across the field and told the gang and every one got away but it was a
narrow escape. One detective had me by the collar. _This is going to
be easy though_."
"Bandits!" whispered Minerva.
"They're going to rob the house while we're on the lawn," breathed
Margaret Timerson.
"They're crouching on the shore just behind those bushes," said another
girl.
"Leave it to me," said the mysterious voice. "I'll handle them."