AN EXCITING MORNING
It was not an encouraging situation. Within a few hours the four girls
were to enter upon the most momentous undertaking of their lives,—an
undertaking that would require them to be in fit physical condition, with
clear heads, alert and supple in limb. And here they sat in a blinding
rainstorm with nothing more substantial than their blankets between them
and the heavy downpour.
“There will be no game for you girls to-morrow,” groaned Margery Brown,
dismally.
“If there is a game, we shall play,” answered Harriet.
“What shall we do?” cried Jane. “We’ll all catch cold!”
“When the rain stops we shall put the tent up again,” returned Harriet
Burrell. “That question is easily answered, but answering is the easiest
part of it. The worst feature of it is that all our clothes will be out
of shape and unfit to wear in the morning.”
“We shall have to make the best of it,” said the guardian.
“We will iron them in the morning,” replied Harriet. “We must, for the
sake of our friends, make a half-way decent appearance. You saw how neat
and well groomed all the players looked to-day. With our dark clothes it
will be even more difficult to make ourselves presentable.”
“I withh the boyth were here,” lisped Tommy.
“I don’t. We are perfectly able to take care of ourselves. What we must
wish for is the rain to cease.”
No signs of its doing so were observable. They sat, dismal and forlorn,
wrapped in their blankets, each girl sitting in a puddle of water, for
there was no floor in their tent.
Harriet soon saw that remaining as they were might be attended with
serious results. She urged the girls to get up and walk about, which
suggestion the guardian seconded. Then for the next hour they walked back
and forth, keeping well out in the open field, fearing that were they to
take refuge under the trees they might be struck by lightning.
About three o’clock in the morning the rain suddenly stopped. Soon after
that the clouds broke away and the stars came out. The faint light of the
coming day enabled them to see with some distinctness.
“Now for the tent, girls,” cried Harriet. “I wish we had a fire or a
lantern. But we shall have light from the skies soon. Help me spread the
tent on the ground and straighten it out, Jane, dear.”
While they were doing this the other girls were placing their belongings
on higher ground.
“Oh, joy!” shouted Hazel. “All our dresses were in the chest. Who put
them there?”
“I did,” answered Tommy. “I have thenthe thometimeth.”
A weak cheer greeted this announcement. Their dresses were dry, after
all. Much of their trouble being thus banished the girls’ spirits rose,
and soon thereafter they were laughing and chattering, unmindful of their
bedraggled and thoroughly uncomfortable condition.
Suddenly Jane McCarthy uttered a cry.
“The ropes are broken—broken right off near the stakes, I should judge,”
she called excitedly.
“That is strange,” replied Harriet. “The ropes are too strong to break so
easily. The stakes would have pulled up before the ropes would break. Let
me see.”
Harriet took the end of a guy-rope that Jane extended toward her, and
looked at it closely. She ran to where the tent had been pitched and
began tugging at a stake, which came up after no little effort on her
part. This stake she carried back to Jane and held it before her
companion, a piece of the broken rope dangling from it.
“See, Jane?”
“Well, darlin’, didn’t I tell you? The rope broke off just as I said.”
“You are mistaken, Jane, dear.”
“Eh, what?” exclaimed Jane. “Then what did happen to it?”
“The rope didn’t break off, at least not wholly so. It has been cut
nearly in two with a sharp knife. I presume we shall find the other ropes
in a similar condition. Whoever did it must have known that a storm was
coming and thought that the first good puff of wind would leave us
without a roof over our heads. Now, what do you think of that, Jane
McCarthy?”
“The miserable cowards!” raged Jane. “Miss Elting!”
The others of the party were quickly made acquainted with what Harriet
had discovered. Then there followed an immediate examination of the other
guy-ropes, all being found partly severed by a knife. The uneven, stringy
ends showed where the break had come when the wind blew hard enough to
part them.
This was a new element of discomfort and mystery.
“I can’t understand who would do such a thing,” pondered Harriet Burrell.
“The boys wouldn’t play that trick on us, would they?” questioned
Margery.
“Indeed they would not. This is not fun; this is malice, nothing less,”
declared Harriet. “I am afraid we have enemies here, girls, but whoever
they are we are going to triumph over them to-morrow, even if we have to
go to the courts soaked to the skin and out of condition as the result of
our night’s experiences.”
The light was now strong enough to enable them to make out objects about
them quite clearly. They examined the ground. They found the imprint of
boots in the soft turf all around where the tent had stood, but whether
these had been made by one of the boys or by their midnight visitor they
were unable to say. They were strongly inclined to the opinion that it
was the enemy who had put them in such a plight.
“I don’t think we shall put up the tent now,” said Miss Elting, after
reflection. “It is now nearly daylight. The boys will be along soon. They
will set the camp to rights. There go two of them now to put up the
dressing tent. Whoo-e-e-e!”
Sam and Dill Dodd halted at the hail. They saw instantly that something
was wrong at the Meadow-Brook camp and came over at a trot. The situation
was explained in a few words. Sam started on a run for his own camp to
inform George Baker, and in an almost incredibly short time George came
in sight with Sam Crocker trailing along a few rods behind him.
The girls had never seen George in a rage before. But his rage took a
different form from what they might have expected. His face was very pale
and his voice was so calm as to be almost gentle. Yet there was a note of
restraint in it, of enforced control, that told the girls he was laboring
under great excitement.
“Sam, skate back and tell the fellows to get our tent in shape. Tell them
the girls will be along in a few moments,” he ordered, and Sam went
obediently.
“But——” protested Harriet.
“You are going to our camp to turn in, all of you. Miss Elting, you will
see that they go to bed and get some rest, won’t you?”
“Yes; thank you very much.”
“Let me see. The grounds are wet this morning. I do not think the games
will be called much before eleven o’clock. You may safely sleep until
nine o’clock. That will give you two hours in which to get ready. If
there is any change in the time I will have you called earlier or later
as needed, so don’t worry one little bit. This ground is too wet for you
to sleep on, that is why I am sending you to our camp.”
“What are you planning to do, put up our tent?” questioned Miss Elting.
“After the ground dries off, yes. Just now I am going to see Jack
Herrington, then call on P. E. How do the girls seem to be feeling?”
George lowered his voice so that only the guardian might hear.
“In excellent condition, I should say. You know a little wetting doesn’t
disturb them very much. I hope they play the games to-day. The grounds
will be wet and somehow I believe our girls will make a better showing on
soft, soggy grounds than on a smooth, hard court.”
“I’ve been thinking of that myself,” answered George confidentially.
“Well, so long for a few hours. I have business on hand this morning,
being business manager of the Meadow-Brook team. Sounds important,
doesn’t it? May not sound so important to-morrow.”
George started across the field. His chin was lowered almost to his chest
and he was raging inwardly at the indignity put upon the Meadow-Brook
Girls. He would see to it that nothing of the sort occurred again. He
censured himself because he had not thrown a guard about the camp on the
evening before the battle. It was too late now for regrets. The one great
question now uppermost in the minds of a hundred or more persons besides
himself was, who was going to win the doubles?
So far as George Baker was able to judge, the Scott Sisters were slated
for this victory. Disbrow agreed with him, basing his judgment on what he
had heard of the sisters and what he had seen of the Meadow-Brook Girls.
Harriet and her companions, as the reader already knows, were confident
of a great victory. The odds seemed to be heavily against them, however;
hard luck certainly was on their side, as the incidents of the night just
past plainly indicated.
Jack Herrington was very angry when he learned what had happened to the
ambitious girls, but there was nothing he could do except promise to see
to it that the guilty one would be punished, provided he were ever
caught, which seemed doubtful. Mr. Disbrow shook his head sadly. He said
the effects of that wetting might not show until the girls were on the
court, but that they would surely suffer from it.
The tournament was not to be postponed. It was to be started at ten
o’clock in the morning, even if the courts were not dry. The sky was
still overcast and the sun had not yet come out, though the air was
sultry and close.
George sent a messenger to the Tramp Boys to have the girls called at
eight o’clock and to tell them the games would be called on time. The
active young man visited the courts, there to stand stroking his chin as
he looked over the battle ground reflectively, consulted the skies,
decided in his own mind which would be the favorable end of the courts
with reference to the sun in case his side won the choice of sides. He
considered everything, showing that Captain George Baker was a
long-headed young man well worthy to be the leader of the band of hardy
lads whose commander he was.
While he was thus engaged, two young women clad in raincoats, their heads
enveloped in the hoods of the coats, came out on the field. They appeared
to be very much interested in the courts, which they tested by stepping
on them, taking note of the slipperiness, the stickiness and other
features of the courts, they shook their heads disapprovingly. George
decided that they were players—players, too, who appeared to know their
business. Once they had whispered together while looking at him. He knew
they were speaking of him, which made the young man rather ill at ease.
He watched them leave the field. Asking one of the men who had come to
work on the courts who these young women were, Captain Baker learned that
they were the Scott Sisters, which information did not tend to strengthen
his hopes for his team.
There being nothing more to be done, George went back to his own camp,
where he knew breakfast would be awaiting him. The other lads had put up
the dressing tent and were now carrying in boards for a floor, the ground
being too wet to be used as a floor.
It was nearly eight o’clock when the captain reached his camp. He found
the girls up and dressed. They greeted him brightly, but he thought there
was something forced in their gayety. The captain did not blame them for
this. They were laboring under a great strain—in fact, the greatest they
had ever experienced.
Before eating breakfast the team took a limbering-up exercise, consisting
of forward and backward bends, skipping the rope, a rapid round with
half-pound dumb bells, wrist exercises with light Indian clubs, and other
exercises calculated to put in condition every muscle in their bodies.
They went through their morning work without a hitch, finishing with
flushed faces and sparkling eyes.
“Oh, it is good to be alive, even if one had to sit in a puddle of water
most of the night,” declared Harriet, as they sat down to breakfast. “Eat
sparingly, girls, and chew your food well. That was Mr. Disbrow’s advice.
We are to have some dry biscuit to nibble if we feel hungry.”
Margery and Miss Elting had taken an earlier breakfast and hurried over
to the Meadow-Brook camp to gather up the necessary articles for the
battle. These were packed in a chest which the boys carried to the
dressing tent, one of them remaining on guard over the stuff. George did
not propose to have their mysterious enemy playing any more tricks.
At nine o’clock they started for the battle ground. The sun had come out
broiling hot, the ground was steaming, the air full of humidity, a most
depressing condition for those who were to participate in the great
tennis match.
“I feel ath though I were going to a funeral,” declared Tommy dismally,
as they plodded along over the wet turf.