NATALIE IS GONE
Camp Fire Girls and camping boys gathered in a little group on the edge
of the lake, standing about Jack, who was mutely pointing to a stake in
the water.
“There’s where she was tied,” he said. “And now she’s gone!”
“Maybe she floated away,” suggested Blake.
“Not much!” cried Jack. “I haven’t learned to tie all sorts of sailor
knots now to slip up and make a grannie-hitch at this day. That canoe
couldn’t come untied unless some one did it.”
“And it’s out of sight now,” remarked Phil, as he swept his eyes over
the surface of the lake. “Hadn’t we better get after it in the
motor-boat? Have we any gas?”
“I forgot to look. When I saw the canoe gone I got all worked up.”
“Did it belong to you boys?” asked Natalie.
“No, and that’s the worst of it. We hired it over at Glen’s dock,” said
Jack, “and he’s sure to charge us double what it was worth if we don’t
return it at the end of the season.”
“When did you notice it was gone?” asked Mrs. Bonnell.
“Just now. Of course it was gone when we came back here from our trip,
but we didn’t notice it, I guess. But it’s sure gone all right,” and
Jack added his searching gaze to that of his two chums. But on the
darkening surface of the lake there was no such craft to be seen as the
small green canoe the boys had hired.
“Let’s get right out in the motor,” proposed Jack, who had taken the
screw-plug from the gasoline tank in the bow, and ascertained, by
dipping in a stick, that there was fuel enough to run to the Point and
back.
“Better wait until after supper,” advised Marie. “Come over to our camp,
boys, and we’ll give you the best meal we can get up in a hurry. Then
we’ll go over to the Point with you.”
“But we want to look for our canoe,” insisted Phil.
“I know,” replied his sister, “but we’ve got to go to the Point anyhow.
You need some supplies, and the canoe is just as likely to be in that
direction as any other.”
“Not much!” insisted Jack. “The Gypsies wouldn’t take it over that
way—too many chances of being seen.”
“What makes you think the Gypsies took it?” asked Mabel.
“Of course they took it!” cried Jack. “Who else? We come back to find
our camp looted, to quote Natalie, and——”
“Oh, Jack! You’re making fun of me?” she exclaimed.
“I am not, Nat! Looted is a dandy word. Anyhow, our camp is cleaned out,
Blake’s best handkerchief is gone, and good riddance to that Italian
opera, I claim——”
“You wait!” threatened the loser. “I’ll get even with you all right!”
“And then our canoe is gone,” went on Jack, ignoring the protest. “The
Gypsies must have been going about the lake in some kind of boat. They
saw our camp deserted, and helped themselves. Then they towed off our
canoe.”
“But how do you account for them not taking anything from our camp?”
asked Mabel.
“Oh, they were too polite,” said Blake. “Besides, they may not have had
time. Well, if we’re going to get a move on, let’s do it!”
“Come over in about fifteen minutes,” suggested Mrs. Bonnell. “We’ll be
ready for you then. Come on, girls,” and she led the way back to Dogwood
camp, leaving the boys to discuss among themselves the queer happenings,
while the girls were no less exercised over what had occurred.
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Natalie. “I don’t like these Gypsies so near at
hand. It makes me nervous.”
“They’re not near,” said Mabel. “Why, are you afraid of being
kidnapped?”
“Hardly,” replied Natalie. “But who knows? They may take all our clothes
some day when we’re not at camp, and we’d have to go home in these
suits.”
“If they all became us as well as yours does you, Nat,” said the
Guardian, “I’m sure we wouldn’t object. I’m sure mine makes me look ever
so much stouter. I really must exercise more and eat less.”
“If the Gypsies make off with our larder we’ll all of us eat less,”
suggested Alice with a laugh. “Well, we must see what we can give the
boys. I know they must be nearly famished.”
And from the manner in which the campers of Stony Point did justice to
the hasty meal that the Camp Fire Girls prepared, it was evident that
Alice’s conjecture was right.
“And now for the Point!” cried Blake. “Shall we help you lock up,
girls?”
“Such locking as we can do,” spoke Marie. “I wish there was some way of
making a tent more secure. The next time we go camping we must have a
log cabin. We can lock that.”
“Leave a lantern burning,” suggested Phil. “That will make any unwelcome
visitors think some one is at home. That’s what we always do.”
The girls agreed that this might be a good plan, and a light was left
within the tent, securely fastened against the possibility of an upset,
should a squirrel or other prowler enter in search of food. Another
lantern was lighted and hung outside, and the boys, having done likewise
at their camp, the motor-boat was gotten in readiness for the trip to
the Point after supplies.
“And we’ll keep a lookout for our canoe on the way,” suggested Phil.
“Not much chance of spotting it after dark,” replied Blake.
“But if we see a rowboat, or one canoe towing another we’ll sort of
sneak up and take a look,” remarked Jack.
“Oh, boys!” cried Natalie, “please don’t have any—unpleasantness.”
“Unpleasantness is—good!” affirmed Phil. “We’ll just throw them
overboard, Nat, if we find any of them have our canoe, and then all the
unpleasantness will be on their side.”
“Oh, boys! You couldn’t!” and she seemed really alarmed.
“Of course they won’t,” said Alice witheringly. “Don’t let them scare
you.”
“Well, we’re going to get our canoe,” declared Phil doggedly.
But though the boys kept a sharp lookout on their way to the Point they
saw no signs of their missing craft. Once at the Point, which was a sort
of gathering place for the campers and cottagers from all the coves and
inlets of the lake, the boys gave their orders for groceries, and then
danced with the girls, for the nightly hops were a feature there.
“‘A good time was had by all,’ as the Weekly Clarion of Hensfoot Corners
will say next week,” remarked Blake, as the little party prepared to go
back to camp.
“It _was_ enjoyable,” declared Natalie who was very fond of dancing. “I
hated to come away.”
“I’ll go back with you,” offered Blake. “We can get a boat to bring us
over.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind!” exclaimed Mrs. Bonnell, with a laugh.
“It’s time my Camp Fire Girls were home and in bed.”
“Oh, very well, Nat,” sighed Blake. “Some other time.”
They found their camps undisturbed, the lighted lanterns seemingly
serving them well in their absence. But, as on the going trip, there was
no sign of the missing canoe. Nor did a casual search the boys made the
next day bring it to light.
They reported their loss to the local authorities, and one of the
constables said he would do what he could to find the craft.
“Though it isn’t very hopeful,” he told them. “It’s so easy to paint a
canoe over, and they all look alike.”
The officer seemed more interested in hearing about the location of the
Gypsy wagons and tents at Bear Pond, and made a trip to the girls’ camp
to learn about them. He was given the directions to find it, and said he
would make an investigation at once.
“And, if you can,” urged Mabel, “see if you can get back my mother’s
ring.”
“I will,” he promised, but the girls well knew that there was but a
small chance of success.
“Maybe we should have told him about the haunted mill,” suggested
Natalie.
“No!” declared Mrs. Bonnell. “That was only some foolish fancy of that
hermit. The mill isn’t haunted.”
“Of course not,” Natalie agreed, “but I’m sure I saw a face at the
window that day.”
But nothing was said to the constable about it.
Several days passed, and nothing new developed. The boys did not find
their canoe, and nothing was heard about the visit of the constable to
the Gypsy camp.
The Camp Fire Girls and their brothers and friend, went on excursions
together, and had a general good time. The summer had been an ideal one,
so far, they all agreed. The girls did some more clay work, and Mrs.
Bonnell sent to the Camp Fire Headquarters for a hand loom on which to
make bead work.
“For you girls will soon be Fire Makers,” she said, “and will want to
wear some of the bead head-bands. You can begin weaving your particular
designs now. Natalie can make a pine tree for her symbol, Marie a bird,
Mabel an ear of corn, and Alice an Indian tepee.”
“I think Natalie will look perfectly stunning with a bead head-band over
her black hair,” whispered Marie.
“She’s stunning as she is now—a regular Pocahontas,” answered Mabel.
The girls were delighted with the bead work, and kept at it so steadily
that the boys complained they would not “come out and play.”
It was late one afternoon when Mrs. Bonnell, who had been walking
through the woods with Marie, who wanted to look for a certain flower,
came back. She had left Natalie and Mabel together, at their bead work.
“Where’s Natalie?” asked the Guardian. “I have a lovely idea for her
bead head-band.”
“She went out to meet you,” said Mabel. “Some time ago. Didn’t you see
her?”
“No!” exclaimed Mrs. Bonnell, as she looked at the lengthening shadows
over the lake. “I—wish—she would come back.”
In spite of themselves the girls and their Guardian felt a chill of fear
strike to their hearts.
“Let’s call!” suggested Marie.
They united their voices in Natalie’s name, varying the summons with
“Wo-he-lo!” and “Dogwood camp!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Blake, who came running over a little later.
“Natalie is missing!” exclaimed Mabel. “Oh, Blake, what could have
happened to her?”