CAMP ATHLETICS
“Net ball.”
“Out.”
“Come on, now; she serves awfully swift; look out.”
“Come on, Jenkie! Put all your strength into it!”
“Hit it up! Hit it up! Keep it going!”
“I served then; one point for us.”
“What’s the score?”
“Five all.”
“Good! Good, Virgie!”
“Now Eight,—your turn.”
“Only one assist.”
“Come up a little further. You can stand there. Every inch counts.”
“My turn to serve?”
“Hit it!”
“O, how could I? A mile above my dear head!”
“What’s the matter with this team? That’s the third time, Isabel,
that you’ve knocked Pat over, and Betty got hit in the eye.”
“Y’see, you ran out of your place and were in my way.”
“You dropped your comb, Bertha.”
“What’s the score?”
“Twelve to seven.”
“Whose favor?”
“The Pennacooks’.”
“Come on, Kennebecs!”
“Wake up, girls; don’t let ’em beat us!”
“Did everybody serve? Begin all over? All right; I don’t want to
cheat.”
“That’s the way, keep it up; send it back.”
“Out.”
It is volley ball, in which two of the six teams are playing. Back
and forth flies the big ball. Like the flag, it must not touch the
ground. Girlish figures run hither and thither, strike the ball and
send it flying over the net to the opposite side, where the
performance is repeated. Good spirit prevails. They are playing to
win, for the sake of the team and for personal reasons as well; but
however eager or disappointed they may feel, no one shows ill will.
Pride and camp spirit prevent that. Sometimes it is a little hard to
accept the hindrances which the little girls or the less experienced
ones offer, but as a rule these are coached and encouraged by the
rest of the team. A good play is applauded by both sides.
“Now try it, June. That’s it. Put a little more strength into it
next time. Hit it hard and send it a little higher. You get another
turn. Toss it up and then bang away!”
“Send it to me and I’ll hit it over.”
June takes her stand, tosses up the ball and hits it. It goes off to
the side, but one of the girls who stands there, hits it over the
net. Back it comes and over it goes again, sent by a hard blow from
Hilary.
“They’re coming up fine.”
“Thirteen to ten.”
“Yes,” cried the captain of the Kennebecs. “Where’s some wood?” she
cries, rapping on her head. “Come on, Kennebecs!”
“Thirteen to eleven,” announces the referee, as the Kennebecs score
another point. The game grows exciting.
“Good work, Lilian.”
“Get it, Margaret. O, you weren’t quick enough!”
“Be ready.”
“Come on, Pennacooks!”
“What’s the score?”
“Fourteen to twelve.”
“Betty’s serve.”
The Pennacooks, nerved to greater effort by their higher score and
the increasing score of the Kennebecs made the fifteenth point and
won the game. Two games out of three they had thus won, and the
Kennebecs generously gave the first cheer for the winning team.
“No hurry, girls,” said Lilian, dropping down in the shade. A
red-eyed vireo in the bushes had not stopped rooting for both sides
during the game, and an olive-sided flycatcher had come out to sit
on a wire by one of the tennis courts and inquire which side beat.
So Hilary interpreted their remarks, as she pointed them out to the
girls.
Hilary, June, Eloise, Lilian and Cathalina were among the defeated
Kennebecs, while Isabel, Nora, Betty and Frances were of the
victorious Pennacooks. Helen and Marion played with the Ossipees,
who were at present playing baseball down on what might be called
Merrymeeting Green, near the water front.
“The baseball games aren’t over yet,” Lilian continued, “and besides
they’ll have to rest.” The girls stretched out or curled up where
tall bushes and some trees offered shade.
“Whom do we play in basketball?”
“The Ossipees.”
“Well, we must beat them,” declared Hilary. “I’ll simply pass away
if we can’t.”
“Team work, girls,” said Eloise, who was captain.
“My, it’s hot this morning in the sun,” said Lilian. “Cathalina,
I’ll beat you in tennis this afternoon, if we can get a court after
rest hour.”
“All right as to playing. As to beating, we’ll see.”
“You’re the two champions among the Seniors, aren’t you?”
“I guess so,” replied Lilian.
“Of course you’ll get a court, then. And you’ll have an audience,
too. Which court do you want? We’ll see that you get it. I’m
terribly thirsty. Let’s go over to the club house and get a drink.
We can sit on the porch till the girls come. There’s always a
wonderful breeze there. I suppose your team is at baseball next,
Nora?”
“Yes, and we must be going, too,—come on, girls.”
This was a busy week in athletics. The July tournaments were on.
Tennis was being played off as could be managed about the courts.
The schedule was posted in the club house. Lilian and Cathalina were
easily the best in tennis and had yet their match to play.
In volley ball, baseball and basketball, the six teams played
against each other. Every girl in camp was assigned to a team,
though a few were excused for some special reason, and only took
part in the games at times. There was not the intense excitement or
the temptation to over-strain that there is sometimes in the games
between schools; but there was great interest in these active sports
and a very human desire to excel.
Volley ball and tennis were played upon courts, which were located
on the level ground back of the camp buildings. Beyond the courts
stretched a big meadow, partly level, but sloping down to bushes and
trees along the back water of the Kennebec. On the other side of
courts and meadow were bushes and trees and the charming road or
lane which wound along past Sunset Rock, the pine grove and the
birches, through Merrymeeting boundaries, to the world of the
mainland beyond. Just back of the club house and at the beginning of
this little road were the posts and baskets for the basketball
games.
That afternoon, though the sun was still hot, the cool Maine breeze
stirred the sunny locks of Lilian and Cathalina as the girls met for
the final test of skill in tennis. Both girls played well, having
played for several years. A few councillors and a number of the
girls occupied a bench or two, or found seats on the grass beside
the favorite court, the one nearest the lane.
“Now, Lil,” said Cathalina, as swinging their racquets they walked
toward the court, “you are such a dear, that only I’m afraid of one
thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you will hate to beat me and won’t play your best.”
“I thought that all out, Cathalina, and I think that the only fair
thing is for each of us to play her level best. And don’t you let me
beat you because you hate to beat me, or get lazy and do not care!”
“I guess that is the more likely,” acknowledged Cathalina, laughing.
“I’m a lazy-bones, but I promise to do my best. Beware!”
“Here comes the champs!”
“What’s the matter with the champions?”
“Rah, rah, Lil!”
“Rah, rah, Cathie!”
The comparatively small company gathered near the court were more
audience than rooters, and applauded impartially both players,
though Isabel never failed to cheer some good play by Cathalina, and
Virgie shouted at the top of her Western lungs for Lilian.
“Look at Lil. Good work, Lilian; you have a wicked serve!”
“Fifteen—love.”
So evenly matched were the girls that most of the games were deuce
games. Fourteen were played before Lilian won the first set.
The second set was won by Cathalina, who played with brilliance and
determination. Her most effective play was what the girls cheered as
a “slam”, almost impossible to return, which she delivered with
surprising force for one so slight. This she had learned from
Philip. But Lilian, too, had a brother, had been accustomed to
playing with Cathalina, and was not as much disturbed by this play
as were the more inexperienced girls against whom Cathalina had been
playing during these days of tournament.
“Do you read my mind, Lil,” asked Cathalina once, when Lilian so
quickly reached the particular spot back in the court where she was
needed.
“I’m sorry, Cathalina; that was a peach,” said Lilian, as one of
Cathalina’s returns went an inch or so outside.
“Great cut, Lilian,” remarked Cathalina, when Lilian’s ball went
over the net, hit the right spot, and refused to bounce to
Cathalina’s racquet.
In the third set, excitement rose among the spectators. Endurance
was not Cathalina’s strong point and she grew tired, but played on
apparently as well as ever. She had won four games, Lilian five, and
the score of the present game stood forty to thirty in Lilian’s
favor, when she returned, backhand, a difficult ball from Cathalina.
It dropped over the net and Cathalina was not quite quick enough to
reach the net from the back of the court. The game was Lilian’s and
wild applause proclaimed her winner of the tennis tournament.
Meanwhile in the bushes two deeply interested spectators had arrived
by way of the lane. Having been informed by Jo and June, who were
playing “jacks” on the club house floor, that Cathalina and Lilian
were finishing the tournament, two masculine visitors decided to go
to the courts by the back way and remain unseen if possible while
watching the progress of the game. June had suggested it, saying
that it might “fuss” the girls, since they were not expecting
company.
“You’re a bright, kind little June-bug, aren’t you?” asked Campbell,
and June gave him one of her happy smiles, as he strode off with
Philip Van Buskirk.
“Well-well! Which will you root for, Philip, sister or best girl?”
“We’ll not dare root for anybody if we have to keep out of sight.”
“Wise reply. True, and doesn’t give you away.”
Philip scarcely knew where loyalty demanded his presence. He was
proud of his pretty little sister, but every time he looked at the
graceful Lilian he fell more deeply in love.
“How about a love set with Lilian, old man?” queried Campbell.
“I’ll play one any day,” replied the unembarrassed Philip.
“But ‘love’ means ‘nothing’,” added Campbell.
“Unfortunately so.”
“Good for Cathalina!” exclaimed Campbell, with cousinly regard, at
an especially good play. Before this he had found where Hilary was
sitting, and did not find the game so engrossing that he could not
include Hilary in his line of vision.
Then came the last plays, Lilian’s victory, and Philip found himself
watching her, as she received congratulations and talked happily
with the girls. The boys waited a few moments till most of the crowd
were moving off, a few Greycliff girls still around Lilian and
Cathalina, then walked around into sight.
“A surprise for you, Cathalina,” called Campbell.
Turning, the girls saw Philip and Campbell, and with many
exclamations of wonder and pleasure, went to meet them.
“Why, Philip Van Buskirk!” exclaimed Cathalina. “Why didn’t you
write that you were coming?”
“Didn’t know it myself till the last minute, Kitten. Say I was proud
of your playing. And Lilian, that was great!”
“Were you back there all the time?”
“Just for the last two games. It was all we could do to keep still
and not join in the rooting, but June warned us not to appear before
the games were over.”
“When did you arrive, Philip?” asked Hilary.
“This morning. Campbell wrote that this would be a good time to
come, I wired him and came. He says that there is to be a picnic up
here tomorrow.”
“Yes, indeed; we entertain the Boothbay boys.”
“Let’s sit down right here and talk,” suggested Cathalina, moving
toward the benches. “Then we can show you around a little.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to put that off till tomorrow,” said
Campbell, “if we go down to camp with the tide. But we can visit a
little while.” Thus speaking, he waved Hilary to a seat next to
Cathalina on a bench and dropped on the grass at her feet.