AN EARLY DIP
Almost every morning were seen barefooted figures scudding across the
grass from the tents to the lakeside, and next would follow a great
splashing about to the accompaniment of much laughter.
Jack, who always enjoyed going further in her discoveries than any one
else, was one morning wading just beyond where Nan was taking her early
dip. The sun had not been up very long and there was a rosy light upon
land and water. Every blade of grass was shining with dew and the birds
were twittering in the trees or were dipping their wings in the lake as
they flew over. Nan was appreciating it all immensely. “There’s nothing
like early morning to give one the true loveliness of a spot like
this,” she was saying to Jo, when Jack came splashing through the water
toward her.
“Oh, Nan, Nan,” she cried, “come up here with me; there’s a poor
something caught in the bushes, like Abraham’s ram. Do come see what it
is.”
“What do you think it is?” asked Nan. “A bird, an animal or what?”
“It’s an animal. I don’t know whether it’s wild or not. I only saw its
eyes and they were lovely.”
“Well, I’ll come, but I won’t promise to go very near. We don’t want
to be too much in a hurry to rescue wildcats or things like that, you
know. This is properly Mary Lee’s province. She’d march right up to the
creature, yank it out and be clawed for her pains. Come on, Jo, let’s
go see what the thing is. Perhaps it’s your friend the porcupine, Jack.
He may have come to call on you.”
“Oh, porcupines don’t have big eyes like these. This is something much
bigger.”
“Oh, is it? So much the more dangerous, I should judge. However,
there’s no harm in looking. Where is it?”
“Just in that clump of bushes over there.”
The three proceeded cautiously. At their approach the imprisoned animal
struggled wildly to free itself, and the girls stood still, fearing
lest it should suddenly become disentangled and pounce upon them. After
a few moments the struggling ceased and they could see only two great,
soft, startled eyes peering through the thicket. “They look to me like
the eyes of a deer,” Nan said at last. “It certainly is not a wildcat
nor a fox. I tell you what to do, Jack; go back to camp, hunt up ’Lish
and tell him about it. He will know as soon as he sees it. The poor
thing is in trouble anyway. It probably came to the lake for a drink
and has become tangled up in all those wild grape-vines and brambles.
Probably it heard us coming and was startled so it didn’t notice where
it was going. Run on, now, Jack. We’ll wait here till you get back.”
Jack was ready enough to obey and was not long in reappearing with
’Lish. Nan and Jo meanwhile had donned shoes and stockings and had
slipped on waterproofs while they waited to see what would happen next.
’Lish, stooping and squinting and shading his eyes from the sun, which
was by now fully risen, at last declared: “It’s a young deer for
sartin. Poor crittur, I’ll go down and git it loose.” He approached
the bushes, the girls drawing nearer as he did so, and as he parted
the leaves they saw distinctly the graceful head and frightened eyes
of a little fawn. It struggled madly and was almost dead with fear
when ’Lish finally lifted it out. One leg was evidently injured in the
violent struggle.
“Don’t let it go,” begged Jack. “It couldn’t walk well and some beast
might get it.”
“What ye want me to do with it?” ’Lish stood with the creature in his
arms, making an interesting study, Nan thought; the tall, lean, angular
man in blue shirt, and butternut trousers with the little wide-eyed
fawn looking around apprehensively.
“Why, we’ll keep it till it gets well. Couldn’t you do something to its
leg, ’Lish? Rub it or bind it up or something? Unc’ Landy always could
do things to our animals to cure them.”
“Is its leg broken, do you think?” asked Nan coming nearer the startled
fawn.
“No, I guess it ain’t broke. I cal’late it’s jest a little wee mite
sprained. Probably it’ll get well of its own accord, but I might rub it
with some hoss liniment I got. First-rate for sprains. Use it myself
for a lame shoulder. Wal, come along, gals. We’ll take it up to camp
and see what _she_ says. I guess I might rig up some sort of paddock if
you’re bound to keep it.”
The “she” referred to being Miss Marshall, a conference was had with
that lady which ended in a decision to keep the fawn while the camp
should be open, and then if it seemed best, to free it. “We’ll adopt it
as our mascot,” Miss Marshall told the girls.
“It’ll be as tame as a kitten after while,” said ’Lish. “My brother’s
wife’s sister had one, and blamed if the crittur didn’t follow her all
over the house. It growed to be right big, horns and all, and one day
it ketched a sight of itself in a looking-glass and blamed if it didn’t
think it was another buck and put its horns right through the glass;
smashed it all to flinders. Susan said she would have to git rid of it
after that. She couldn’t hev no sich crittur about the house.”
“But why?” asked Jack.
“Bad luck to hev a looking-glass broke. Didn’t ye ever hear that?
Anyway, that’s what she said, so she let the buck out and off it went
to the woods. Guess it was jest as well; he’d soon got tired of private
life, and would have broke loose some day. They like to range.”
“Was that the last she ever saw of him?” inquired Jack much interested.
“No, he’d come round once in a while, specially in cold weather, and
she’d feed him. One time he brought his mate, but that was the last she
ever saw of him. Guess he thought after he’d brought his lady to pay
her respects, he’d done his duty.”
Jack laughed and followed ’Lish to the little stable where the horses
were kept and where they housed the fawn till another place could be
provided for him. This was done in course of time, and, as ’Lish
predicted, the little creature soon became accustomed to human beings
and learned to know his friends, would eat from their hands, and would
watch for them to come with some special tidbit.
The question of a name aroused great discussion. It was first deferred
to Jack as having the right by reason of first discovery. “I think we
might call him Dearie,” she said after a little thought, “because, you
see, he is dear both ways.”
“Why not Fawny, then?” asked Jo. “He’s so fonny, you know.”
“Oh, that’s far-fetched and silly,” announced Mary Lee disgustedly.
“Why not call him Caro? That’s the Spanish for dear.”
“Oh, you always want Spanish things,” averred Jack. “If we are to give
him any foreign name I should say a German one, for we had venison all
the time we were in Munich.”
“What a painful suggestion,” laughed Nan. “_Das Rötwild_ is the German
for deer.”
“I don’t care for that.” Jack shook her head decidedly. “What do you
think would be a nice name, mother?” She appealed to Mrs. Corner.
“How would Lightfoot do?”
“Oh, but you see one of his feet isn’t light He can’t use it at all
yet.”
This brought another laugh. Jack’s reasoning was always rather
unexpected.
“Then Tenderfoot might do,” proposed Daniella, reminded of her ranch
life.
“That’s worse yet!” declared Jack.
“We might combine Miss Marshall’s name and Miss Lloyd’s and call him
Lomar,” suggested Miss Helen.
“Oh, no. I once knew a boy named Jim Lomar and I despised him.” Jack
was decided upon this point.
“Clearly we must be particular,” said Bertha Stine. “Suppose we ask
Miss Lloyd; she is always fruitful of suggestion.”
“Heaven knows we have made suggestions enough,” said Mary Lee, “but the
trouble is to suit Jack.”
The question, however, was taken to Miss Lloyd who, after a moment,
said, “How would you like Happy as a name? This is Camp Happiness, and
if he isn’t happy he ought to be.”
Jack considered this gravely. “Does every one like Happy better than
Dearie?” she asked looking around.
“We’ll put it to vote,” said Miss Lloyd. “All in favor of Happy will
please raise their hands. One, two, three, four--nine. I think that is
a majority, Jack, for it leaves but six to answer. Are you satisfied?”
“Oh, yes, I believe I like it quite as well. Probably,” she added after
a moment, “I liked Dearie better only because I thought of it myself.”
“A reason which influences most of us in such matters,” said Miss Lloyd
laughing, “but few of us are so willing to acknowledge it. Very well
then, girls, our mascot is to be called Happy.”
Jean took special pleasure in the little animal though Jack always
maintained she had a better right to him, because she had been the
means of bringing him into camp. This fact, however, gave her a feeling
of responsibility which in the end worked toward a new acquaintance.
“It isn’t every camp that boasts a mascot,” said Jo at breakfast one
morning a short time after Happy had been adopted into the company. “We
must take very good care of him, for he brings good luck, and if he
gets away we shall have to expect ill fortune.”
“Really, Jo?” said Jean.
“Why, of course. If a mascot means good luck, no mascot means bad luck;
that’s as easy as rolling off a log.”
“Don’t give the child such notions, Jo,” protested Mrs. Corner.
“Oh, but it isn’t a notion,” persisted Jo; “it’s a logical sequence.”
Jack was also listening and she mentally stored away the conversation
and when, a week or two later, Happy broke his bounds and disappeared,
she was weighed down by the prospect of ill luck befalling Camp
Happiness. She had gone to the paddock as usual just after breakfast,
but no Happy put his little soft nose between the rails to nozzle her
hand for the food she held. ’Lish was instantly hunted up and appealed
to. When had he seen Happy? He had seen him the night before. The
paddock was then examined and ’Lish’s experienced eye detected where
the little hoofs had knocked off some bark from the barrier which was
made of cedar poles. “He’s escaped,” ’Lish pronounced the verdict. “I
thought he was bound to sooner or later, as soon as his leg got well.”
“Don’t you believe he’ll come back?” asked Jack almost in tears.
“Ain’t likely to jest yit. He wants his run. He may wander back some
day, but he likes his freedom same as all wild critturs. ’Tain’t likely
you’ll see him agin for some time.”
But Jack determined if there was a way to bring him back it must be
done, so providing herself with some of his favorite food and a length
of rope, in her usual confident way she started out to find the lost
mascot. The print of his little hoofs led her through the camp, across
a field and into the first piece of woods beyond. Here they were more
difficult to follow; only once in a while upon the damp leaves could
Jack discover the impress. One of the pleasant occupations of the
summer had been a study of wood lore from that master woodsman, ’Lish,
who knew more strange things than any one Jack had ever seen except her
old friend, Jo Poker, in California. He had taught her things, too. So
she told herself she need not be afraid, as she knew just how to get
back. The mountains were to the west of the camp and the sun set behind
them. The lake was to the east, therefore when she could see one or the
other she would know exactly the direction she should go. “When I go
back,” she told herself, “I must have the mountains on my right for I
shall be going south.” She noted very particularly all these points as
she entered the woods.
She went on trying to trace the way Happy had gone, but as he had
pursued his journey by leaps and bounds and she could only trot along a
rather difficult path, she did not make much headway and early lost all
trace of him. Still she did not give up at once, believing she might
any time hit upon his tracks. But at last she had to confess to herself
that it was not worth while to follow up such a forlorn hope and she
resolved to go back. “It’s dreadful to have to tell them we have lost
our mascot,” she said, “but we shall have to stand it. Perhaps he will
come back to visit us as Susan’s deer did, and then we can think we
haven’t lost him altogether. I forgot to ask ’Lish how long Susan had
her deer before it was set free. We have had Happy such a short time
that I am afraid he won’t come back, though I shall try to believe he
will. Now, let me see, I must find my way out of here.”
She trudged on through the dense woods which grew wilder and wilder as
she continued her way, and a rough way it was. Sometimes she almost
lost the path and sometimes it seemed impossible that she could ever
come to an opening which would allow her to see so far as either
mountains or lake. At last, however, she did catch a sudden glimpse of
the mountains which instead of being on the right or left were directly
ahead. “That’s queer,” said Jack stopping short. “I’ll have to get them
on my right or my left. If I am going back they will have to be on the
right.” So she turned carefully around but there seemed only a tangle
of brakes and bushes in that direction and no path at all. She had not
calculated upon the twistings and turnings of the lake shore.
She halted again to consider what to do, and then bent down to examine
her own footprints. “If I were an Indian now, I’d have no trouble at
all,” she told herself. “I wish I had a dog. Po’ old Trouble found the
way to Mary Lee and Phil that time they were lost. Let me see. I came
past that tree over there, I remember, because I noticed that some of
the leaves were turning red.” She retraced her steps to the tree then
halted again. “Now, I can’t see the mountains from here. I’ll try to
find the lake; it ought to be on the left as I go back.”
She trudged on again and finally came out upon the shore of the lake.
The spot was unfamiliar but she was undaunted even though the lake was
in front of her instead of to the left. “I’ve all day before me,” she
said to herself, “and if I can’t find Happy I can eat his buns, so I
shall not starve.” She examined the pretty little shady nook she had
found. “Now I know what is the matter,” she said to herself; “the lake
turns here, because this is a sort of inlet, only I don’t know exactly
which way to go after all.” Again she stood still and directly she
caught sight of something moving among the trees. Could it be Happy?
She did not hesitate long in making her way toward the spot where she
saw the movements and came face to face with an Indian gathering
herbs. “Hallo!” cried Jack in surprise.
The Indian nodded. “How do?” He did not seem in the least surprised at
seeing a little girl prowling about the woods, but went on searching
for his herbs.
Jack watched him for a minute, glad to have met some one though it be a
person so unresponsive. She wanted to make conversation but didn’t know
exactly what to say. Presently she remarked; “I’m glad you haven’t a
tomahawk.”
The Indian raised himself from his stooping posture. “I got,” he
answered.
“Where? I don’t see it.”
“In tent. You like basket? I make basket.”
“I like baskets. Oh, yes, you mean those pretty sweet-grass ones? I
think they are lovely.”
“I make. You buy some?”
“If you will come to the camp I will. Maybe the others will, too. Do
you know the camp, Miss Marshall’s camp?”
The Indian nodded.
“How far is it from here?”
“Three, four mile.”
“I must have come further out of my way than I thought, then. Which way
do you go to get to the camp?”
“So.” The Indian indicated a path directly in the opposite direction
from that which Jack considered to be the right one.
“I hope he isn’t making a mistake,” she said to herself. “I can’t tell
by the sun, for it is overhead.”
“I go little far with you,” said the Indian shouldering his basket
of roots and green stuff. “My woman make basket, too. I make good
medicine. You come I show you basket.”
“Oh, dear,” thought Jack, “I believe he just wants me to go to his tent
or lodge, or whatever it is, to see his baskets. I haven’t any money
and I don’t want to go further than I need.” She turned to the Indian.
“No money to-day. You come to the camp, Miss Marshall’s camp. Do you
know ’Lish?”
The Indian nodded.
“It is the camp where he is.”
“I know him.”
“Then you come and we will buy some baskets.”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes, to-morrow.”
“All right. Good-bye.”
This was the end of the interview and Jack, turning her back on the
Indian, pursued her way. After going a short distance she suddenly
remembered that she had forgotten to ask the man if he had seen
anything of a tame fawn, but concluded after all it would have been of
no use, for wherever Happy might have been earlier in the day he would
be elsewhere now. So she walked on in the direction she had determined
upon. She had not gone a great way before she heard a cheerful
whistling at what seemed no great distance. Following the sound,
which fortunately was coming from in front instead of behind her, she
presently came upon a young man standing before a sketching easel. He
was busy at work upon the canvas before him, whistling cheerily as he
worked, backing off every now and then to see the effect of what he had
done.
Here at least was an intelligent human being who could set her on the
right way, so she decided to go up to him.
[Illustration: CHAPTER IX
JACK HAS ADVENTURES]