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The Camp Fire Girls'
Larks and Pranks
OR
The House of the Open Door
By HILDEGARD G. FREY
AUTHOR OF
The Camp Fire Girls Series
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
THE
Camp Fire Girls Series
A Series of Stories for Camp Fire Girls Endorsed by
the Officials of the Camp Fire Girls Organization
By HILDEGARD G. FREY
The Camp Fire Girls in the Maine Woods
or, The Winnebago's Go Camping
The Camp Fire Girls at School
or, The Wohelo Weavers
The Camp Fire Girls at Onoway House
or, The Magic Garden
The Camp Fire Girls Go Motoring
or, Along the Road That Leads the Way
The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks
or, The House of the Open Door
The Camp Fire Girls on Ellen's Isle
or, the Trail of the Seven Cedars
The Camp Fire Girls on the Open Road
or, Glorify Work
The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit
or, Over The Top With the Winnebago's
The Camp Fire Girls Solve a Mystery
or, The Christmas Adventures at Carver House
The Camp Fire Girls at Camp Keewaydin
or, Down Paddles
Copyright, 1917
By A. L. Burt Company
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS' LARKS AND PRANKS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS'
LARKS AND PRANKS
CHAPTER I
THE HOUSE OF THE OPEN DOOR
It was the crisp chill of an early October evening; in the still air the
dead leaves came rustling down with a soft sound like whispers, while the
crickets chirped a cheery welcome from the waiting earth. Over the
treetops a big yellow hunter's moon was rising; its comical face grinning
good-naturedly. It looked down on the dark outlines of a large barn
standing in the shadow of a tall tree and the grin widened perceptibly.
Evidently something was happening on earth.
A dark form stole softly up the long drive leading to the barn and paused
before the door. Through the silence there rose the whistling wail of the
whippoorwill, repeated three times, and ending abruptly in the squall of
a catbird. From within the blackness of the barn came an echo of the
whippoorwill's call, followed by a much more cheerful note--the carol of
the bluebird. Then a clear voice called from inside, "Who goes there?"
"A friend," came the reply.
"Stand and give the countersign," commanded the voice inside.
"Other Council Fires were here before," responded the newcomer.
"Advance and give the Inner Password," said the invisible sentinel.
The figure passed through the dark entrance and came to a halt just
inside, crying, "Kolah Olowan!"
"Mount!" commanded the voice above, and the stranger lost no time in
obeying the invitation. Scrambling up the ladder fastened to the wall
which did duty as a staircase, she thrust aside the curtain at the top
and stepped out into the lighted upper chamber.
Anyone seeing that dark and deserted looking building from the outside
would never guess how bright and cheerful was that upper room within. A
wood fire roared in a cobblestone fireplace, its gleam lighting up walls
hung with leather skins and gay Indian blankets and festooned with sprays
of bittersweet. Several more Indian blankets were spread out on the floor
in lieu of rugs, while from the rafters were suspended woven baskets and
pieces of pottery. Ranged around the sides of the chamber, where the
sloping roof met the floor, were four beds, all different, and only one
indicating that the dwellers in that secret lodge were civilized persons.
The first was a neat cot bed with blankets tucked in smoothly all around,
and a dust cover folded up at the foot; the second was an "Indian bed"
made of pine branches, dried ferns and sweet grasses, piled several feet
high and ingeniously confined by woven reeds and pliant twigs. The scent
of the sweet grasses, mingled with the aromatic odor of the pine, filled
the room with a dreamy fragrance that seemed like a charm to lure down
the Sleep Manitou. The third was a pile of bearskins and the fourth was
another kind of Indian bed, made of smooth round willow rods tied
together with ropes and laid across two poles fastened into the wall.
No windows were visible, as these had been covered with skins. Except for
the camp bed, the wide hearthstone and one other detail it might have
been the lodge of some Indian Chief of olden time. That other detail was
a green felt pennant stretched across the chimney above the stone shelf
of the fireplace, bearing in clean-cut English letters the word
WINNEBAGO. Most of our readers have probably guessed the truth before
this--the Indian lodge we have been describing is the meeting place of
the Winnebago Camp Fire Girls and the solitary visitor who uttered the
plaintive cry of the whippoorwill with its grotesque ending in a cat call
is none other than our old friend, Sahwah the Sunfish.
"O Nyoda, such larks!" cried Sahwah, skipping across the room and
bestowing a hasty embrace on the sentinel guarding the fire, whom the
reader has doubtless suspected of being Miss Kent, the Guardian of the
Winnebago group.
Nyoda laughingly shook herself free and smoothed out the Ceremonial dress
she held in her hand, which had become sadly crumpled during the process
of Sahwah's bear hug. "What mischief are you into this time?" she asked
fondly, smiling down into Sahwah's dancing eyes.
Sahwah went into a gale of giggles before she could explain. "You know
Gladys was going to drive all of us girls down in the Glow-worm
to-night," she said, controlling her laughter with an effort, "and she
telephoned Hinpoha while I was there to dinner that she was over at Mrs.
Varden's, the dressmaker's, having a fit, and the Glow-worm was standing
out in front of the house, so we should gather up the other girls and get
into the car and wait for her to come out, to save her the time of going
around after the girls, for her fit threatened to be a lengthy one. So
Hinpoha started out after Medmangi and Nakwisi and I went back home after
these apples, which I'd forgotten to take along to Hinpoha's. When I got
to the corner of the street along came Gladys in the Glow-worm and said
she had an errand to do for her mother in a hurry and we had better come
straight out here without her and she would come later. I hurried over to
Mrs. Varden's house to tell the girls, but when I got nearly there I saw
a black car standing out in front and Hinpoha and Nakwisi and Medmangi
sitting in it as cool as cucumbers, thinking they were in the Glow-worm.
I recognized the car as belonging to that horribly bashful son of Mrs.
Varden's, and I couldn't resist the temptation to let the girls sit in it
until he came out. So I stole back up the street, keeping in the shadow
of the trees so the girls wouldn't see me, and came out here. Oh, won't
there be a situation though, when 'Dolly' Varden comes out and finds his
nice bachelor car full of bold, bad girls!"
The picture was too much for Sahwah, and she rolled on the bed shrieking
with laughter, in which Nyoda joined heartily. "I wonder how long it will
be before they come," said Sahwah, rising from the bed and wiping her
eyes. "What shall we do to pass away the time?"
"If I were you," advised Nyoda, "I would spend it searching a nice safe
retreat to which you can fly when they come and find out you didn't tell
them."
Hardly had she spoken the words when there floated up from below the
familiar cry of the whippoorwill, followed successively by the long,
eerie laugh of the loon, the blithe whistle of the quail and the song of
the robin. "There they are!" exclaimed Sahwah in mock terror. "Where
shall I hide? Oh, I have it, I'll get inside of that pile of bearskins
and listen while they tell their tale of woe to you and then I'll hop out
and laugh at them." Quick as a flash she jumped into the bearskin bed and
pulled the skins over her so that she was entirely concealed.
With a great deal of chattering and giggling the three arrivals were
mounting the ladder. "Keep on going, Hinpoha!" exclaimed Nakwisi, "you're
stepping on my hand."
"Keep on going yourself," retorted Hinpoha, "you haven't a pie in your
hand." Just at that moment her foot slipped and she clutched wildly at
the ladder for support.
"There goes the pie!" shrieked someone, as it described a circle in the
air and landed with a thud. Hinpoha wrung her hands in grief, for her
mouth was already watering for that crisp pastry.
Medmangi walked over to view the remains. "It isn't hurt a mite," she
said calmly, picking it up and dusting it off. "Fortunately it landed
right side up in the tin."
"O Nyoda," cried Hinpoha, beaming once more now that the feast of pie was
assured, "we had the most fun getting here! Gladys told us the Glow-worm
was standing out in front of the Varden's house and we should get in and
wait for her, and we saw a car and got in. Pretty soon out came young Mr.
Varden, got into the front seat without looking to the right or left and
drove off. We thought of course he was driving Gladys' car away and we
all three shrieked at him at once. He pretty nearly dropped dead when he
heard us, and stopped the car so suddenly we all flew out of the seat.
But he was perfectly grand about it when we found out our mistake. He
told us Gladys had gone home fifteen minutes before, but he would be
perfectly delighted to drive us where we wanted to go. And so he brought
us out," she finished with a dramatic flourish, and sat down heavily on
top of the bearskin bed where Sahwah lay hidden. Immediately there was an
upheaval and a grotesque animal sprang from the bed, an animal which had
the skin of a bear and two red stockinged legs which capered wildly about
while their owner shrieked piercingly, "She sat on my breathing apparatus
and I won't be able to talk for a week!"
"You _are_ talking, you goose," said Hinpoha, calmly seating herself
again after poking the bed to see if it were further inhabited.
"You missed it, Sahwah, by going home," she continued. "Too bad you
weren't along to share the fun."
Sahwah's expression was funny to behold when she learned how the joke had
turned out, for it was not on the girls after all, but on herself, for
she had walked all the way to the lodge by herself. She looked rather
silly as she caught Nyoda's eye, but while Nyoda twinkled mischievously
at her Sahwah knew that she would never give her away. But of course when
Gladys arrived a few minutes later and heard the story, Sahwah's part in
it came out and she had to stand the gibes of the others because her joke
had turned round on herself, until Nyoda called the beginning of the
Ceremonial and peace was restored.
One name has been dropped from the Count Book of the Winnebagos since
last we heard the roll called, and to another there is no reply, although
it is always called. Early in the fall Chapa the Chipmunk moved to a
distant city, and so for the first time the close circle of the
Winnebagos was broken. Then shortly afterward Migwan went away to college
and her departure caused a fresh bereavement. Though Migwan had been of
such a very quiet nature, her influence had been widely felt, and the
girls missed her more and more as the days went on. Hinpoha, especially,
was almost inconsolable, for she and Migwan had always stood a little
closer together than the rest of the girls. This was the first Ceremonial
Meeting without the two and it seemed very strange indeed to omit Chapa's
name from the roll, and when Migwan's name was called and was followed by
silence, Hinpoha sniffed audibly and wiped her eyes.
"Sister, this is a very solemn occasion," said Sahwah the irrepressible,
in such a forced tone of sorrow that it was impossible not to laugh at
her.
"That's right," said Nyoda. "It won't do for us to pull long faces. We
have vowed to 'be happy' you know. Think how much worse off Chapa is
alone in a strange city. Come, be cheerful and tell what kind deeds you
have seen done today. You begin, Sahwah."
Sahwah took hold of her toes with her hands and tilted back and forth on
the floor as she spoke. "Sally Jones did me a great service yesterday in
composition class. You know Sally Jones--the one they call the
Blunderbuss. Well, you know what a pig I am when it comes to writing
composition. I never wrote one yet that I didn't get a blot on. Last week
when I handed mine in Miss Snively said that if there was a blot on my
paper this week she would mark me zero for the month. So yesterday when
we had to write one in class I took the utmost care and got it all done
spotlessly and was just signing my name when Anna Green behind me tried
to pick a thread off my collar and laid her fishy cold hand against my
neck. I jumped and wriggled and the result was a beautiful blot on my
composition. There wasn't time to copy it over because it was almost the
end of the hour, so I resigned myself to a nice fat cipher on my report
card this month. Then Miss Snively sent Sally around to collect the
papers and when she came to my desk she leaned across it in such an
awkward way that she upset my inkwell all over my composition and my one
small blot was completely hidden by the deluge. Miss Snively graciously
requested me to do it over in rest hour, which I did, and handed it in in
perfect shape. Upsetting that inkwell was the kindest thing anybody ever
did for me."
There was a moment of laughter at Sahwah's tale of kindness and then
quiet fell on the group again. "Tell us a story, Nyoda," begged Hinpoha,
breaking the silence, "we're getting low in our minds again."
"Yes, do," begged the others.
Nyoda sat silent a moment staring thoughtfully into the fire. Her hands
were clasped around her knees and the light shone on the diamond ring
which now encircled the fourth finger of her left hand--the only thing
which made the girls realize that their amazing adventures of the first
week in September had been a reality and not a dream.
"In a village in eastern Hungary," began Nyoda, "there lived a girl about
your age. Her father was a very wealthy man, and lived on a great estate.
Veronica--that was the girl's name--was the only child, and had
everything that her heart desired. The thing she loved to do the best was
ride horse-back and she had a beautiful horse for her very own. She
showed great talent on the violin and had the best masters. Veronica grew
to be seventeen as happy as a girl could be, with an indulgent father and
a beautiful, sweet mother. Then a dreadful thing happened. War was
declared in the country and the village where they lived was taken by the
enemy. Her father was killed, their home was burned and her mother died.
Veronica, with the rest of the people in the village, ran away toward the
mountains when the village burned. But Veronica became separated from her
friends and fell, and could not get up again, for her leg was broken. She
lay there a long time, and gave herself up for lost, when she heard a
whinny beside her and there was her pet horse, who had been following her
all the way. She managed to swing herself up on his back and he galloped
away to the safety of the mountains. They found their way across the
border into another country where some kind people took care of the
orphan girl. The faithful horse fell after he had brought her to safety
and hurt himself so badly that he had to be shot. The people who took
care of Veronica sent her across the ocean to her aunt and uncle. So, sad
and lonesome, she came to this country to be an American."
Here Nyoda paused for breath, and Hinpoha burst out quickly, "Oh, how I
wish this had happened in our time and that poor lonely girl had come to
this city and we had met her and made her happy. Wouldn't we be kind to
her, though, if we had a chance?"
Nyoda proceeded quietly. "All this _has_ happened in your time, and this
lonesome girl _has_ come to our city, and you are going to have a chance
to be kind to her often."
"Nyoda!" shrieked all the girls at once. "You mean she lives in our city,
and you actually know her?" "Where does she live?" "When will we see
her?" "What is her whole name?" "How old did you say she was?"
"Have mercy!" exclaimed Nyoda, putting her hands over her ears. "I can
only answer ten questions at once. Veronica's uncle is Mr. Lehar, the
conductor of the Temple Theatre orchestra. I live next door to them, you
know, and am well acquainted with Mrs. Lehar. She told me about Veronica
some time ago and last week she went to New York to get her. I
immediately asked her to allow her niece to join the Winnebago group, if
you girls were willing to take her, that she might not be lonely here.
Will you take her in, girls?"
"We certainly will!" cried Gladys and Hinpoha in a breath, and Sahwah
sprang to her feet exclaiming vehemently, "Well, I guess so!"
"When is she coming?" they wanted to know next.
"I'll bring her to the next meeting," promised Nyoda, "and I want you
girls to--"
What it was she wanted them to do they never found out, for just at that
minute there was a terrific thump on the floor below followed by the
hurried clatter of heavy footsteps, then the scraping of feet on the
ladder, a great waving and billowing of the curtain at the top and then
it was wrenched aside, and into the Council Chamber there burst the
fattest boy they had ever seen. His great cheeks hung down over his
collar; his eyes were nearly buried. His face was purple from violent
exertion and he sat limply against the bearskin bed, panting heavily. The
girls stared open-mouthed at the intruder. Before they had recovered
sufficiently from their astonishment to utter a single word, the barn
below was filled with the noise of many footsteps and the shouting of
many voices, and the next minute the sacred Council Chamber of the
Winnebagos was filled to overflowing with boys.
At the sight of the lighted chamber and the girls in Indian costumes the
intruders stopped and stared in speechless surprise. Then with one accord
seven hats were snatched from as many heads and seven voices exclaimed as
one, "Beg pardon, we didn't know anyone was here."
It was so funny to hear them all saying the same thing at once that the
Winnebagos could not help laughing aloud. The confusion of the boys was
so painful that the girls actually felt sorry for them.
"There are only _seven_ of you," said Sahwah, as usual breaking the
silence first. "I thought at first there were _hundreds_."
Here one of the boys found his voice to speak. He was a tall boy with
curly brown hair and nice eyes, and his face was suffused with blushes of
embarrassment. "Sorry to disturb you girls," he said soberly, but with a
twinkle in his eye. "We were chasing _him_"--and he pointed to the fat
boy still puffing away for dear life on the floor--"and we couldn't see
any light from the outside and we didn't know anybody was up here and
when Slim ran in we just followed him. We'll go right away again, and let
you go on with your meeting."
Nyoda looked from one face to the other--nice refined boys they were, she
decided, and it would do no hurt to show them courtesy. "You needn't be
in such a great hurry to go," she said cordially. "You may at least stay
until you have recovered your breath." And she looked quizzically at the
fat boy leaning against the bearskins who did not seem ever to be going
to breathe again.
He tried to show his appreciation of her hospitality by getting up and
making a bow, which threw him into such an advanced stage of
breathlessness that he sank down again directly and had to be fanned.
This caused another general laugh and the boys and girls rubbed elbows so
closely trying to revive him that all feeling of embarrassment vanished
and it suddenly seemed as if they were old friends, in spite of the fact
that none of them knew the others' names. Nyoda came to herself with a
start.
"Excuse us, boys," she said, "for not introducing ourselves. I am Miss
Kent, Guardian of the Winnebago Camp Fire Girls, and these are the
Winnebagos," and she named them in order. "We were having a rather
doleful time when you arrived. You broke up the spell of gloom and we are
deeply grateful."
The tall boy spoke again, this time smiling broadly. "We're the ones who
ought to apologize for not introducing ourselves," he said in a pleasant
voice, "since we have caused so much disturbance. We're the Sandwich
Club," he continued, including all the boys in a sweeping gesture of his
hand. "We go to Carnegie Mechanic. That's Slim over there," he said,
pointing to the fat one, while all the girls laughed. "His real name's
Lewis Carlton, but it's so long since anyone has called him that that
he's forgotten what it is himself. We chase him all over the country to
reduce him, but sometimes he gives us the slip and hides and it takes us
so long to find him that in the meantime he gains more than he lost while
we were chasing him."
The girls fairly shouted at this and Slim doubled up a cushion-like fist
and declared in a choking voice that if the fellows didn't leave him in
peace he'd sit down on them some day and that would be the end of them.
The tall boy who was doing the introducing smiled sweetly at Slim and
went on with the introductions.
"This one," he said, indicating an extremely thin, hungry-looking,
gaunt-featured lad with sombre brown eyes and a grave mouth, "is Bill
Pitt. 'Bottomless Pitt,' we call him, because it's impossible to fill him
up. You girls have heard of the Sheep Eaters?" he asked suddenly, looking
from one to the other.
"Yes," chorused the Winnebagos, not wishing to appear ignorant, but not
sure whether the Sheep Eaters were beasts of prey or persons overfond of
mutton.
"Well," continued the spokesman, pointing to the "Bottomless Pitt," "he's
a Pie Eater, he is. He eats 'em whole."
Hinpoha's glance strayed nervously to the shelf where the apple pie stood
awaiting the end of the Ceremonial Meeting. The tall boy's eyes followed
here and his teeth showed in a wide smile, as he seemed to read her
thoughts. Hinpoha blushed fiery red and dropped her eyes. But he looked
away again immediately and did not increase her embarrassment.
"This," he said, drawing forward a spidery little fellow with red hair
and freckles all over his face, "is Munson K. McKee, called for short,
Monkey, and those," indicating the other three, "are Dan Porter, Peter
Jenkins and Harry Raymond. We seven boys have always gone together, so we
decided to form a club, and we all like sandwiches so well that we named
ourselves the Sandwich Club. There, now you know all about us."
"But you haven't told us _your_ name," said the Winnebagos, who were
beginning to like the spokesman very much, and were anxiously waiting to
hear him introduce himself.
"Haven't I?" he asked. "That's right, I haven't. My name," he said
solemnly, but with that suggestion of a twinkle in his eye again, "is
Cicero St. John--and the fellows _don't_ call me Cissy for short." Here
the corners of his mouth twitched as at some humorous memory.
"You bet they don't call him Cissy!" put in the Bottomless Pitt.
Hinpoha's eyes met Gladys' in comical dismay. How could anyone in their
right senses name a boy--an American boy--Cicero! The St. John part
sounded very fine, but that awful Cicero!
"How do you keep them from calling you--Cissy?" ventured Sahwah.
"He licked the tar out of them!" spoke up the Monkey. "And he dumped one
fellow overboard out in the lake when he tried it. Everybody calls him
'Cap' now, because he's captain of the football team."
"Indeed," murmured the Winnebagos, looking at Cicero St. John with fresh
interest and great respect, for all the world loves a football player.
And then the boys wanted to know all about the Winnebagos, and thought
their symbolic names and "queer duds" even funnier than the girls had
considered theirs. But they all voiced their unqualified approval of the
Camp Fire Girls when they heard that the Ceremonial Meeting was to be
topped off with a feast of apple pie, doughnuts and cider, and did not
need to be asked more than once to stay, and share the feast.
"Say, this is a peach of a meeting place," said the Captain with his
mouth full. "How did you happen to get it, and whoever thought of putting
a fireplace upstairs in a barn?"
"We got it as the result of a sort of wager," explained Hinpoha. "Gladys'
father promised that if we could go on an automobile trip all by
ourselves without once telegraphing to him for aid he would build us a
Lodge to hold our meetings in, and we did and so he did."
"'So _they_ did, and _he_ did, and the bears did,'" quoted Nyoda
teasingly.
Hinpoha laughed and went on. "He owned this empty barn out here in the
field and he turned it over to us. But we just had to have a fireplace or
it wouldn't have been a regular Camp Fire Lodge, so he built this
splendid chimney. We have named the Lodge 'The House of the Open Door,'
or the 'Open Door Lodge,' to signify hospitality. Mr. Evans wanted to
build a fine stairway, too, but we wouldn't have it. It's lots more fun
to climb the ladder."
"Why don't you use the ground floor?" asked Slim, who could never see the
sense of exerting one's self needlessly.
"It's much cosier up here," replied Hinpoha. "We have these adorable
peaks and gables to hang things on. Besides, we wanted to leave the big
floor downstairs clear for dancing."
"Dancing? Do you dance?" cried the boys, pricking up their ears.
"We surely do," replied the girls. "Would you like to come down and try?"
Down the ladder they went in a hurry, Slim being pushed from above and
pulled from below, and landing on the floor in his usual breathless
state. A few lanterns were hung around the walls and the big door opened
wide to let in the bright rays of the full moon and the place was nearly
as light as day. Nyoda played her banjo and the twelve pairs of feet
shuffled merrily to the lively strains. As there were only five girls,
Slim and Peter Jenkins were left without partners and consoled themselves
by dancing together. Peter came just to Slim's shoulder and weighed
ninety-five pounds against Slim's two hundred and thirty, and the result
was so ludicrous that the rest could hardly dance for laughing. It was
like a monkey dancing with an elephant. Slim took mincing little steps
and looked down at his partner with a simpering, languishing expression,
while Peter strained heroically to encircle his fair one's waist with his
arm. Rocking back and forth in exaggerated rhythm, Slim tripped over a
board and fell with a great crash, pinning his gallant partner under him.
The rest flew to the rescue and propped Peter up against the wall,
fanning him vigorously.
"He'll recover," pronounced the Captain, after a thorough going over of
his bones, "but he'll never be the same again."
"All is over between us," said Slim, wringing his hands in mock despair.
"Miss Kent, won't _you_ dance with me?"
"It's time we were going home," said Nyoda calmly. "Come, girls."
"Go home!" echoed the Captain. "I thought you lived here."
"But how about all the beds upstairs?" asked the Captain.
"Oh," explained Nyoda, "we all constructed different kinds of beds to win
honors, and left them there in case we might want to stay some time."
"It's a pretty fine clubhouse, I'll say," remarked the Bottomless Pitt in
a tone of envy. "I wish we Sandwiches had one like it. We have no place
to call our own."
Hinpoha's thoughts leaped to the Fire Song, the words of which hung
beside the fireplace up above:
"_Whose house is bare and dark and cold,_
_Whose house is cold,_
_This is his own._"
She spoke impulsively. "Oh, Nyoda, couldn't we let them use the ground
floor to hold their meeting in?"
A cheer burst from the seven boys' lips. "Hooray! May we, Miss Kent?"
Nyoda was silent and looked at the boys with a troubled expression, and
her glance as it rested on Hinpoha held a reproof. There was an awkward
silence. Then the Captain spoke up.
"I understand what you mean, Miss Kent," he said simply and
straightforwardly. "You don't know anything about us and of course you
wouldn't want to share your club house with us on such short
acquaintance. We wouldn't think much of you if you did. It was all right
of course for you to ask us to stay and dance with the girls this one
evening when you were here with us, but that doesn't mean that you're
willing to adopt us. But we like you girls first rate, and want to know
you better if you will let us. You can go to any of the teachers at
Carnegie Mechanic and find out all you want to know about us. Pitt's
father is Math teacher there and my father is Dr. Cicero St. John. It was
simply great of you to offer to let us come here and hold our meetings,
and if you'll still keep the offer open after you have investigated us to
your satisfaction we'll be mighty grateful and will promise not to bother
you upstairs."
The boy's face was so open and manly that it was impossible not to
believe in him then and there. Nyoda smiled into his earnest face. "All
right, Captain," she said, "we'll agree to put you on probation, and if
you stand the test we'll consider the matter of sharing the Open Door
Lodge."
The Captain smiled back at her and held out his hand. "You're a peach and
I like you," he said emphatically, and the two were sworn friends from
that moment on.