Under Canvas
After the scare in the small hours, everyone settled down again to
slumber. Nevertheless the girls woke with the birds. Many of them had
registered a solemn vow the night before that they would watch the sun
rise, and each was pledged to arouse the others at all costs; so at the
first hint of dawn heads began to pop out of tents, and the camp was
astir. Addie Knighton, still half-dazed with sleep, was led firmly by
Gertrude Oliver to the edge of the lake and forced to wash her face.
"You'll thank me when you're really awake," purred Gertie, ignoring her
victim's protests. "It's only what I promised you faithfully last night.
You told me to duck you in, if nothing else would do it."
"Oh, I'm awake now! I am truly. You needn't be afraid I'll go back to
bed," bleated Addie, afraid her friend might proceed to extremities.
"Hadn't you better haul up Alice next?"
"I left Chrissie doing that. She's going round the tents with a wet
sponge. Look! Isn't that worth getting up to see?"
The grey of the sky had flushed into carnation pink, and up from behind
the wall of the mountains rose the great ball of the sun, red at first
through a veil of mist, but shining out golden as he cleared the
cloud-bank. Everything was waking up. A peewit called by the water's
edge, a cock crew from the farm-yard, and a dog barked lustily.
"Our thief of the night complaining of an attack of indigestion, I
hope," said Ulyth, joining Addie and Gertie at the lake-side. "How much
can a dog eat without feeling ill?"
"We had a collie that consumed three rabbits once," laughed Addie. "We
didn't ask it how it felt afterwards. It got a good thrashing, I
remember."
"We'll keep a stick handy to-night, in case of any more raids. Who's on
breakfast duty? I'm getting wildly hungry. I hope the bacon hasn't
disappeared with the mutton."
Although the three days' sojourn under canvas was in a sense a holiday,
it was conducted in a very business-like spirit and with rigid
discipline. All the daily duties were performed zealously by bands of
servers, who polished tins, peeled potatoes, washed plates, or cleaned
shoes, as the case might be. The League was putting to a practical proof
the seven rules of the Camp-fire Law. Beauty was all around them, and
knowledge to be had for the asking. They proved themselves trustworthy
by their service, and glorified work in the doing of the camp tasks.
Health was drawn with every breath of mountain air, and, judging from
their faces, the seventh rule, "Be happy", seemed almost superfluous.
Everyone looked radiant, even Mary Acton, who was a champion grumbler,
and generally ready to complain of crumpled rose-leaves. After breakfast
and service duty came drill, a more than usually formal affair, for Mr.
Arnold himself reviewed them. He had great experience with the Boy
Scouts, so the girls were anxious to do the utmost credit to their
beloved Guardian of the Fire. The Ambulance Corps gave a demonstration
of First Aid; another detachment took down and re-erected a tent; the
juniors showed their abilities in knot-tying, and the seniors in
signalling. Their inspector declared himself perfectly satisfied, and
commended certain members for special proficiency.
"I shall tell the boys' battalions how well you can do," he declared.
"It will put them on their mettle. They won't want to be beaten by a
ladies' school."
When the display was over, all dispersed for a ramble round the lake
while the dinner stewed; only the cooks on duty remained, carefully
watching their pots. Ulyth, Rona, Lizzie, and Gertrude wandered past the
farm and up the hill-side to the head of a crag, whence they had a
glorious view down over the sheet of water below.
"Llyn Gwynedd looks so cheerful and innocent now, one wouldn't believe
it could ever be treacherous and do dreadful things," remarked Gertrude.
"What things?" asked Ulyth.
"Why, I believe someone was drowned just down there a great many years
ago. I heard Catherine saying so last night, so I suppose it's true."
"It's perfectly true, and I can tell you who it was," answered Lizzie.
"It was the eldest son of Lord Glyncraig. He was fishing here, and the
boat got upset. It was the most dreadful tragedy. He was such a fine,
promising young fellow, and had only been married quite a short time. He
was the heir, too, which made it worse."
"But there are other sons, aren't there?" asked Ulyth.
"Yes, but he was the flower of the family. The rest are no good. The
second son, the present heir, is a helpless invalid, the third is in a
sanatorium for consumption, and the fourth was the proverbial prodigal,
and disappeared. If Lord Glyncraig knows where he is, nobody else does."
"Hadn't the one who was drowned any children?"
"Only a girl. The second and third aren't married."
"Then will the estate have to go to the prodigal in the end?"
"I suppose so, if he's alive, and turns up to claim it."
"Peers have their troubles as much as commoners," commented Ulyth. "I've
never heard this before. I'm sorry for Lord Glyncraig. Plas Cafn is too
good to go to a prodigal."
"Yet prodigals sometimes turn out better than elder brothers, if we
accept the parable," remarked Rona, throwing stones into the water as
viciously as if she were aiming at an enemy.
"Don't!" said Ulyth. "You'll disturb the trout, and Mrs. Arnold wants to
fish this afternoon. Rona, do stop! Let's go down to the edge again, and
try and find some bog bean. You'll get a proficiency badge if you can
show twenty specimens of wild flowers and name them. Yes, I won mine
last year, and so did Lizzie."
"I'd rather win a proficiency badge for shooting," grunted Rona. "Why
can't Teddie let us get up a ladies' rifle corps?"
"Only wish she would, just! It would be prime," agreed the others.
Dinner was ready by twelve o'clock--not at all too early for a company
that had breakfasted at seven. Despite the purloining of the leg of
mutton there was enough to go round, and everybody decided that the
cooks deserved proficiency badges. The servers also did their work
promptly, and removed plates and dishes with the maximum of speed and
the minimum of clatter. By half-past one everything was washed up and
polished, and the kitchen department in apple-pie order.
"I'm afraid we may have rain," said Miss Teddington, looking anxiously
at the sky, which was now completely overcast with clouds.
"One often gets a shower among the mountains when the valley escapes,"
commented Mrs. Arnold. "I don't think it will be much this afternoon, if
there's rain at all. The patrols know what to do if it begins. This grey
sky will be good for fishing."
Mrs. Arnold was an enthusiastic angler, and had brought her
fishing-tackle with her to camp. She intended that afternoon to hire a
boat from the farm and see if she could beguile some of the wily trout
from the lake.
"I'll take four girls with me," she announced: "two to row, one to
steer, and one to help with the landing-net."
Needless to say, she could have had dozens of volunteers, but her choice
fell on Kathleen Simpson, Ruth White, Gladys Broughton, and Evie
Isherwood, who, highly elated, went off to unmoor the boat. Then, Ruth
and Kathleen rowing, and Gladys steering, they made gently down the lake
towards the west end, where the stream flowed out.
Pretty Mrs. Arnold looked particularly charming in a blue-and-white
boating-costume, with a little blue fisherman's cap perched on her fair
hair. It was the fashion for the girls to adore her, and she certainly
had four whole-hearted admirers with her that afternoon, ready to be at
her beck and call, and to perform any service she wished. They followed
her instructions to the letter, and watched her line and reel with tense
eagerness.
"I hope we may catch some salmon trout," said Mrs. Arnold; "they're much
more delicate than the ordinary ones. If we've luck we may get enough at
any rate to give Miss Bowes and Miss Teddington a dish for supper. Row
gently along there, I saw a fish jump; if it's hungry it may fancy my
fly. Good biz! there's a bite. I'll have to play him gently; he feels a
strong fellow. Are you ready, Evie, with the landing-net?"
It was frightfully exciting as Mrs. Arnold wound her reel, and the prey
came within reach. Was he really hooked, or would he break away at the
last moment and disappoint them?
"We've got him! We've got him! Quick, Evie! Oh, I say! Isn't he
splendid?"
A silvery-grey, gleaming, glittering object was leaping in the
landing-net at the bottom of the boat.
"Oh, what luck!" yelled Evie.
"He must be a patriarch!" cried the rowers.
"I can't see him. Oh, do let me look!" squealed Gladys, forgetting
everything in her eagerness. "Ruth, you're in the way. I must look."
And up she sprang, trying to push past Ruth and Kathleen.
"Sit still!" shouted Mrs. Arnold frantically, but the mischief was done.
It all happened in two seconds. No one quite knew how, though Ruth
declared afterwards that in trying to scramble past her Gladys stepped
on the gunwale. Over toppled the boat, and almost before its occupants
knew their danger they were struggling in the water. The girls could
swim a little--a very little. Kathleen, gasping and spluttering,
struggled valiantly towards the bank; Evie, with a certain instinct of
self-preservation, turned on her back, and managed to keep herself
afloat somehow. Ruth and Gladys clutched the upturned boat and, clung
there screaming. Mrs. Arnold was in even more desperate straits. She
could not swim, and she had fallen too wide of the boat to be able to
grasp it. The few patrols left in charge of the camp stood for a moment
paralysed, then tore along the side of the lake towards the scene of the
accident. But someone else was quicker. Rona, hunting for botany
specimens, had been watching the fishing from the bank close by. There
was a rush, a splash, a swift little figure wildly ploughing a path
through the lake, beating the water with short, impatient strokes.
"I won't clutch you," cried Mrs. Arnold, pluckily keeping her presence
of mind. "I believe I can manage to float."
She lay still as Rona put a hand under her shoulder and towed her
towards the shore, so still that she neither stirred nor spoke when
Doris and Catherine, who had reached the spot, helped to drag her from
the water.
"Oh, she's drowned!" shrieked Doris.
"No, no! Lay her down flat. She's opening her eyes."
Marion Harper and Madge Johnson, both tolerable swimmers, were plunging
to help Evie; Kathleen was already struggling ashore. "Wait till we can
come for you!" shouted Rona to Ruth and Gladys; "don't let go the boat."
Evie was pulled ashore first, not much the worse. Rona had trouble with
Gladys, who had waxed hysterical, but with Marion's help she landed her
safely and went back for Ruth. By this time the danger-signal, blown
lustily from several League whistles, brought all who were anywhere
within reach rushing to the rendezvous. Mrs. Arnold, with wet golden
hair clinging round her white face, leaned against Catherine's shoulder,
while Doris rubbed her hands.
"I'm glad my husband's gone to Capel Garmon to-day. Please let me tell
him myself," were her first words. "It was good little Rona who saved
me," she added, smiling faintly at Miss Bowes, who was down on her knees
beside her on the grass.
"I wish I'd done it. I wish I'd done it. Oh, how I envy you, Rona!"
cried Ulyth, regarding her friend with wide shining eyes of admiration.
Miss Teddington, pale but very self-controlled, had taken command of the
situation. Eight people were thoroughly wet through and bedraggled, and
must be hurried to camp and dried, and given hot drinks as speedily as
possible. The rescuers needed cosseting as much as the rescued. Madge
and Marion were shivering and trembling, and Rona, now the excitement of
her sudden dash was over, looked more shaky than she would allow.
"We must tuck them up in blankets," said Miss Teddington. "First Aid
Corps on duty, please! The difficulty is going to be how to get their
clothes properly dried in a place like this."
Mrs. Arnold, with Miss Bowes to look after her, went to the farm to seek
fresh garments. As for the girls, there was nothing for it but to go to
bed for an hour or two, while a band of servers lighted a good fire,
wrung the water from the drenched articles of clothing, and held them
to the blaze. Blankets were commandeered freely from other beds, and
piled round the seven heroines, who, propped up with pillows, each had a
kind of reception as she sipped her hot cocoa.
"We all of us forgot about the boat," said Rona suddenly. "It's drifting
upside down, and the oars are anywhere."
"Never mind. David Lewis will get it somehow, I suppose. It will drift
towards the bank, and he'll wade for it."
"Where did you learn to swim like that, Rona?"
"In the lake at home. We had one nearly as big as this close to our
farm."
"The Cuckoo's turned up trumps," murmured Alice Denham. "I didn't know
she was capable of it."
"Then it only shows how extremely stupid and unobservant you are,"
snapped Ulyth.
The servers declared afterwards that drying clothes round a bonfire was
the most exciting duty they had ever performed. Gusts of wind blew the
flames in sudden puffs, necessitating quick snatching away of garments
in the danger zone. Shoes were the most difficult of all, and needed
copious greasing to prevent their growing stiff.
"I wonder if the Ancient Britons went through this performance?" said
Winnie Fowler. "Did they have to hold their skin garments round
camp-fires? Thank goodness, we've got these things dry at last! We're
only in the nick of time. Here comes the rain."
It was a melancholy truth. The Welsh mountains have a perverse habit of
attracting clouds, even in June; the sky, which had been overcast since
midday, was now inky dark, and great drops began to fall. It was a
calamity, but one for which everybody was fully prepared. The patrols
rushed round the camp loosening ropes, lest the swelling hemp should
draw the pegs from the ground, and took a last tour of inspection to see
that no bed was in contact with the canvas.
"If you even touch the inside of the tent with your hand you'll bring
the water through," urged Catherine in solemn warning; "so, for your own
sakes, you'd best be careful. You don't want to spend the night in a
puddle."
It was a new experience to sit inside tents while the storm howled
outside. Rain up at Llyn Gwynedd was no mere summer shower, but a
driving deluge. Servers in waterproofs scuttled round with cans of hot
tea and baskets of bread and butter, and the girls had a picnic meal
sitting on their beds. One tent blew over altogether, and its distressed
occupants, crawling from under the flapping ruin, were received as
refugees by their immediate neighbours. Fortunately the storm, though
severe, was short. By seven o'clock it had expended its fury, and passed
away down the valley towards Craigwen, leaving blue sky and the promise
of a sunset behind. Glad to emerge from their cramped quarters, the
girls came out and compared experiences. There was plenty to be done.
The fallen tent had to be erected, and various cans and utensils which
had been left outside must be collected and wiped before they had time
to rust.
"This is the prose of camp-life," said Catherine, picking the
gravy-strainer out of a puddle and rinsing it in the lake. "I hope we
shall get the poetry to-morrow again."
"Oh, it's lovely fun when it rains!" twittered some of the younger ones.
Mr. Arnold came down from the farm to inquire rather anxiously how the
camp was faring after the storm, and particularly to have news of the
girls who had been in the lake. He had left Mrs. Arnold in bed, still
rather upset with the shock of the accident.
"I feel responsible for bringing you all here," he said to Miss
Teddington. "I shan't be easy in my mind now till the whole crew's safe
back at The Woodlands."
"We've taken no harm," Miss Teddington assured him. "The girls kept dry,
and they're as jolly as possible; indeed, I think most of them
thoroughly enjoyed the rain."
Llyn Gwynedd, after showing what it could do in the way of storms,
provided fine weather for the next day. The ground soon dried, and
camp-life continued in full swing. Mrs. Arnold, herself again after a
night's rest, took the morning drill, and led a ramble up the slope of
Glyder Garmon in the afternoon. She was the heart and soul of the
"stunt" that evening.
The girls, at any rate, were sorry to say good-bye to the lake on
Friday morning, whatever their elders might feel on the subject.
"I hope the Boy Scouts will have as ripping a time as we've had," was
the general verdict when, having left the camp in perfect order, the
procession set out to tramp down to Aberglyn.
"Barring total immersions in the lake, please," said Mr. Arnold, as he
returned the parting salute.
"But that was an opportunity," urged Ulyth. "I wish it had come my way.
Rona, Madge, and Marion will all get special bravery medals at next
quarterly meeting. I've no luck!"