THE CAMP.
"Hurrah!" cried Billie, trying to pretend that she was not at all tired
after the interminable hot journey on the train and across the
mountains.
But her enthusiasm was not echoed by the others. Even Mr. Campbell, who
always felt the heat, sat silent and dejected. Billie, however, usually
endeavored to live up to her theories, and she had believed that pure
mountain air would act as an instantaneous tonic on their jaded spirits.
She was trying now to persuade herself that she was not hot and dusty
and excessively weary.
They had drawn up in front of a rustic hut built of logs with the bark
left on. The roof had a graceful slant from the central peak, and over
the gallery in front was another low-hanging roof like the visor of a
cap. On one side of the camp, at no great distance from the house, a
majestic army of pine trees had ranged itself in the manner of a silent
and faithful guard. At the other side, the ledge sloped down in natural,
uneven terraces to the valley far below. From the sleeping porches in
the back could be seen a broad vista of low country encircled by a wall
of mountains, now clothed in a mantle of purple shadows as the sun sank
behind the crests of the opposite range. The air was hot and sweet and
very dry, and the atmosphere vibrated with the hum of insects like the
low, steady accompaniment of stringed instruments in a great orchestra.
But at close view, it must be confessed, Nature was very dingy. The pine
trees had a rusty look and the parched earth cried out for rain.
"Well, ladies, we are here," remarked Mr. Campbell, "and I hope you'll
find it to your several tastes."
"I am sure we will," answered Mary politely, while the others moved in
a silent procession toward the house.
Miss Campbell was already wondering how long they could endure this
crude and lonely existence a hundred miles from anywhere. The contagion
of doubt had indeed spread like a plague over the entire company, and
all for the want of a bath, a supper and a good night's rest.
"Ah, here are Mr. and Mrs. Lupo," exclaimed Mr. Campbell in a tone of
relief, as a man and woman approached down the gallery. "They are half
Indians," he added in a low voice. "Mrs. Lupo will be cook and her
husband, guide, protector and man of all work."
Miss Campbell turned reproachful eyes upon her relative.
So then they were to be left in charge of two half-breed Indians in this
wild mountainous place, while he was away. Really, men were too
incorrigible. But Mr. and Mrs. Lupo, at first glimpse, were far removed
from savages. They were, apparently, like two shy, gentle animals with
dark, shining eyes, and when they spoke, which was seldom, it was almost
as if they had broken a vow of silence. Winter and summer they lived in
these high places, and only occasionally did Mrs. Lupo descend to the
valley to visit the little shops in the village and look upon the
vanities of life.
"Well, Mrs. Lupo," said Mr. Campbell, after shaking hands with the
husband and wife and properly introducing them to the others, "I trust
you have some food ready for a crowd of very hungry people. It was too
hot this afternoon to be enthusiastic about lunch at the Valley Inn and
hunger has overtaken us."
Mrs. Lupo looked gravely from one face to another but said nothing.
"Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes," answered her husband, and the
strange pair promptly and quietly disappeared.
"She reminds me," said Mary to Billie, "of one of those genii in fairy
tales that appear when you want them and melt away when you have
finished with them."
"I wonder if she can cook," was Billie's unpoetic reply.
During these brief moments they had lingered on the dusty gallery, and
now Mr. Campbell, eager as a boy for their approval, led them through
the broad opening into the only room of the camp, of which they had
caught glimpses as they waited outside. But they were quite unprepared
for its vast size, capped by the unceiled roof now fast filling with
shadows.
"Why, it's really grand," cried Miss Campbell, with a sudden spurt of
enthusiasm. "It's like a cathedral."
"Isn't it fine?" answered Mr. Campbell. "I think the primeval huts must
have looked like this, and when it came time to build churches it wasn't
a very far cry."
"I expect Mr. Primeval Man would have been mighty glad to have had one
of those nice Morris chairs," observed Billie.
"It would have been good-by to cathedrals then," answered her father.
"Mr. Primeval Man would have passed so much of his time in the easy
chair that he would never have got beyond the age of dull-edged tools."
And in this thoroughly modern primeval hut there were plenty of
inducements to be lazy. Grouped about the stone chimney of an immense
open fire-place were numerous easy chairs, and ranged against the dim
confines of the walls were quite half a dozen cots to be used by people
who might prefer to sleep indoors, Mr. Campbell explained.
The heads of several deer with branching antlers looked down at them
from the walls, and on the floor in front of the fire-place was
stretched the skin of a great black bear.
"Papa, I think it's really beautiful," exclaimed Billie, rubbing her
cheek against her father's shoulder.
"So do we all, Mr. Campbell," cried the other Motor Maids.
"I am delighted and relieved," he answered, rubbing his hands together
with pleasure over their pleasure. "Better introduce Cousin Helen to
her--er bedroom now, and wash up before supper," he added, winking and
grinning behind that little lady's back.
Anybody would approve of the big room of the camp. It was indeed a
splendid place, but how was Miss Campbell going to take to the
dormitory? A flight of rustic steps at one end led to a gallery opening
on this doubtful territory.
"Oh, how delightful," cried Billie, rushing through the door with a
great show of enthusiasm. "I have always wanted to sleep in the open and
never had a chance except that one night on the plains. Remember, Cousin
Helen? And how you did enjoy it, too!"
"One night, yes, my dear, but this is for some sixty nights or more,"
answered Miss Campbell, surveying a row of cots placed at intervals
along the porch. "I never slept in the room with anybody in my life
before."
"But this is not sleeping in a room. This is sleeping in the world,
under the great dome of heaven," exclaimed Billie, laughing uneasily.
"If you want privacy, you can draw a veil," remarked Elinor, pointing to
denim curtains on poles between some of the beds.
"And be alone in the world, under the great dome of heaven? Never!"
cried Miss Campbell. "But do we dress out here in sight of the entire
range of mountains? I should feel that each mountain had an eye turned
on me."
"Really, cousin, you remind me of the old lady from Skye," ejaculated
Billie:
"'There was an old lady from Skye
Who was so exceedingly shy,
When she undressed at night,
She put out the light,
For fear of the all-seeing eye.'"
Miss Campbell so far forgot her objections as to burst out laughing,
and she was still further placated by finding at one end of the porch a
good-sized locker room, and adjoining that a bathroom.
"The water comes from the top of the mountain," announced Billie. "It's
just piped in and doesn't have to be pumped. Think of bathing in such
clear pure water as that. Oh, I know camping like this will be perfect!"
"It may and it may not be," observed Miss Campbell, bathing her hands
and face in some of the crystal water. "Good heavens, what's that?" she
demanded, startled by the sound of a bugle in the twilight stillness.
The call was loud and clear, reverberating among the mountains and
coming back to them in a softened, muffled echo.
"That's Mr. Lupo blowing the supper horn," called Mr. Campbell from the
sleeping porch below. Down they all filed and seated themselves anywhere
around a long rustic table apparently loaded with food, for all the
meal had been placed upon it regardless of ceremony, and people were
expected to help themselves.
"Fall to, fall to, ladies," said Mr. Campbell, serving slices of broiled
ham until the pile of plates in front of him was reduced to one.
"Let's introduce scientific management into this business," suggested
Billie. "With one deft movement of the arm, I'll help each plate to
creamed potatoes, passing them along in order to Nancy, who can dish out
the baked omelette. While we are doing that Mary can serve the butter
and Elinor can pass around the biscuits. There is no labor wasted and
the food is distributed in the quickest possible time."
"What shall I be doing?" asked Miss Campbell. "I don't see that I am
being scientifically managed."
"Yes you are," answered Mr. Campbell with a mischievous glance at the
pretty little lady. "You are being scientifically managed by not being
allowed to do anything."
There was a chorus of drowsy, good-natured laughter. The leavening
influence of food at a journey's end was already beginning to take
effect. Presently Mr. Lupo came in with a tray of cups and saucers and a
pot of steaming hot coffee, and Mrs. Lupo, silent and soft of foot,
placed four tall wooden candlesticks on the table, the light from the
tallow candles shedding a yellow glow on their faces.
"Excuse me," said Mary, rising, after the hungry company had cleared up
everything before them, "I want to go to the end of the room and see
what we look like. I feel as if we were making a picture somebody ought
to see. We are," she called presently from the far end of the vast
apartment. "You've no idea how picturesque you look around that dark
wooden table with those candles and the blue water pitcher and the
pewter coffee pot."
"And the empty omelette dish," called Billie.
"And only one biscuit left," added Elinor.
"I've no doubt Mr. Rembrandt would have painted us just so," said Mr.
Campbell.
"And called it 'The Guild of The Globe Trotters'," Miss Campbell was
saying, when Mary gave a low exclamation of surprise. In order not to
obstruct the beautiful view across the valley, the rustic porch had not
been enclosed with screens, but the openings into the living room were
screened, and, standing just outside the broad door, Mary saw a man
peering into the room.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "I am afraid I frightened you. I was lost
on the side of the mountain, and when I saw the light in the camp I
thought I would stop and ask the way."
"Come in, won't you?" said Mr. Campbell hospitably. "Have you had your
supper?"
"I am afraid not," answered the stranger with a short laugh.
"Mrs. Lupo, will you get this gentleman some supper?" called Mr.
Campbell, while Miss Campbell, almost lost in one of the big chairs,
was wondering if this were the etiquette of campers, and if they would
be expected to take in strangers after Duncan had departed.
"Sit down," went on the incorrigible Duncan. "We only arrived ourselves
an hour ago, and we are hardly familiar with the house yet, but there is
plenty of room. Won't you stop over night? My name is Campbell."
"My name is St. Clair," answered the stranger. "I live in a place called
West Haven. Ever hear of it?"
"Percy St. Clair!" cried the girls and Miss Helen. "Where did you come
from?"
"The scheme worked pretty well, eh, Percy?" laughed Mr. Campbell, after
the young man, their old friend and playmate, had shaken hands all
around and insisted on hugging Miss Campbell. "I thought I would keep
you as a surprise. Where's the motor cycle?"
"It's outside. I walked it up the last climb."
"Did you have any trouble finding the way?"
"Considerable. That's why I'm so late. A fellow told me the wrong road,
and I was lost for a while and had a foolish adventure besides."
"What was it? What was it?" they demanded.
Percy seated himself at the supper table, while Nancy poured out his
coffee and Billie served him with ham and eggs.
"Well, I asked a man the way and he said, 'Are you a doctor?' I said,
'Not yet, but soon.' Then he showed me a road and told me there was a
very sick woman in a house at the top, and would I call and see what
could be done. You may imagine my feelings when I found that the road
led straight to an old ruined hotel, and there wasn't a human being in
it as far as I could see nor any sign of one. So I got on my cycle and
went back down the mountain until I found a sign board that put me on
the right track again. But it was queer, wasn't it, and rather uncanny,
too."
It was a strange experience, and after supper they sat under the stars
discussing it until bedtime, and came to the conclusion that Percy had
met a crazy man.
Never had Miss Helen Campbell slept so well as she did that night on the
sleeping porch. Toward morning there came a quiet life-giving rain that
freshened the parched earth and brought out the pungency of the pine
trees. Only Mary knew of the shower and of the soft wind that followed
just before dawn, bearing with it the fragrance of the wet woods. Only
Mary saw the miracle of the dawn; first the faint flush of pink; then a
deep rosy blush; next, rays of orange and gold, and at last the sun
bursting into view. It was Mary who softly let down the bamboo blinds to
keep out the sunlight and who finally slipped back to bed and went to
sleep with the songs of innumerable forest birds in her ears.