Her shopping done Jane lost no time in cranking up her car, hopped in
and with a wave of her hand swung down the road and went honking through
the village on the way to the place chosen for the Meadow-Brook Girls'
camp for that night. Jane had avoided all questions about herself and
her party, except to say that they were camping. The girl did not
propose to leave a trail for the Tramp Club if she could avoid it. As
the girls were nearing the end of their journey it behooved them to
cloak their movements with secrecy if they hoped to outwit their young
rivals and win the race, which they were determined to do.
Jane had pitched the tent just within the edge of the woods and had
started a small cook-fire when the welcome "hoo-e-e-e" of the
Meadow-Brook Girls first reached her ears. She ran out into the open
waving her apron and shouting a welcome.
"There she is," cried Margery.
"Dear old Jane!" exclaimed Hazel. "She has gotten everything ready for
us and started a fire."
"I propose three cheers for Jane McCarthy," cried Harriet. The cheers
were given in the shrillest tones of the Meadow-Brook Girls. Jane bowed
in exaggerated fashion at this ovation.
"Have you seen the boys to-day, Jane?" was Harriet's first question.
"Not a sign of them, the rascals," replied Jane.
"I imagine that they are at Granite Spring, half a dozen miles back,"
laughed Harriet.
"What makes you think so?" asked Hazel.
"Because, when I read Captain Baker's fortune, I told him that our next
camping place was to be not far from that place. He will make straight
for Granite Spring, you see if he doesn't."
"Then I don't think we'll see the lads again this trip," concluded Jane.
"But, girls, you've got to get busy if you hope to win this contest.
Three more days of hiking will bring you to Meadow-Brook. If the boys
once get ahead of you, you can't expect to catch up with them and win in
that length of time."
"We simply must win, Jane," returned Harriet determinedly.
"Then you'd better begin to think about how you're going to do it,"
advised Jane dryly.
"Jane is right," agreed the guardian. "We must plan to-night. And I
think we shall have to put in one big day's walk, perhaps more than
that. I should first like to know where the boys are. Jane, will you
make an effort to locate them to-morrow?"
"Yes, indeed, Miss Elting."
"When we have definite information on that point we ought to be able to
map out a plan of campaign that will win the contest for us. I believe
we have gotten ahead of them now and that we shall be able to keep our
lead."
"Of course we are going to win," reiterated Harriet Burrell.
"If it is all settled that we are to win the race, I propose that we
celebrate to-night," suggested Jane.
"How?" asked Margery.
"I've got a bag of fruit in the car. We'll make fruit lemonade, then
we'll have a combietta concert."
"What ith a combietta conthert?" interrupted Tommy curiously.
"Wait and see," teased Jane.
"Now, Jane, be good and tell us about this combietta affair?" coaxed
Hazel. "What is it?"
"An instrumental concert," giggled Jane. "I got the musical instruments
when I was in town doing some shopping. Oh, don't worry, darlin's. You
all know to play them. The first thing to do is to decide upon the tune.
How about the 'Marching Through Georgia' for a starter?"
Jane spread out six squares of thin white paper. She then produced the
same number of small packages.
"Oh, we'll wake the squirrels and the chipmunks and the weasles,"
promised Jane, with a grin of anticipation.
Tommy picked at the wrapping on the end of one of the small packages and
uttered an exclamation of disappointment.
"It ithn't a musical inthrument at all," she declared indignantly. "It
ith nothing but a common old black comb."
"That's just where you're wrong," answered Jane. "These combs are new. I
bought them in the village store this very day. Listen, dears. This is
the combietta. It makes music through its teeth, and plays any tune you
call for."
"Wonderful," laughed Miss Elting. "There is something very familiar
about this marvelous musical instrument. Combietta, do you call it,
Jane?"
"Sure I do. But the name is my own invention. The music is as old as the
combs themselves and I don't know how old they are."
"I remember having made music with combs when I was a girl in short
frocks," nodded the guardian. "Play, Jane, and show the girls how to
make music."
Crazy Jane folded one of the square slips of paper over the teeth of one
of the combs, then placed the comb's teeth between her own.
"Zu--zu--zu-zee-zee-zah," she breathed through paper and comb, which
strange sounds were instantly interpreted by Jane's companions, as "Come
Back to Erin."
Each girl with a cry of delight, now snatched up a comb, wrapped it in
the thin paper and joined enthusiastically in the chorus of "Come Back
to Erin." Tommy Thompson, fully as delighted as her companions, leaned
against a tree making hideous noises on her comb; Miss Elting, sitting
on a stump, eyes fixed on the foliage far above her, was an enthusiastic
performer in the combietta concert.
"Now, 'Marching Through Georgia,'" she cried.
"I can't play fast enough to play that," complained Buster.
"Then play anything you like," answered Harriet, with a merry laugh.
"Yes. Make a noise. You don't all have to play the same tune. This is a
celebration," shouted Jane. "What we want is noise and lots of it to
celebrate the victory we are going to win."
And noise there was, a perfect pandemonium of sounds, principally
inharmonious.
A sudden, startling chorus of yells and a burst of music from the
forest, brought the girls' concert to a sudden stop. Lights flashed from
the bushes near at hand, whirling about them in giddy circles like great
pinwheels. The Meadow-Brook Girls were surrounded by wildly yelling
figures, strange flaring lights--and music.
"Indianth!" screamed Tommy. "We'll all be thcalped. Oh, thave me!" Then
the little lisping girl ran like a frightened deer, for the protection
of the Meadow-Brook Girls' tent.