THE MYSTERIOUS ARROW
“The end of a perfect day,” breathed Elfreda Briggs, as the launch
bearing the Overland Riders and General Gordon’s party rounded a point
of land, and the Lodge, for which they were now heading, stood out
white against its dark background of mountains.
The voyage over the blue waters of Lake Roosevelt, and the picnic
at the upper end of the lake, had been most enjoyable. Nothing had
occurred to mar the pleasure of the sixty-mile voyage, through
enchanting scenery.
“I think Miss Briggs has echoed the sentiments of all of us,” spoke up
Anne.
“It would have been just our luck to have had the old boat sink under
us,” differed Emma, amid much laughter.
“There’s our camp,” Hippy informed them. “Ike has arrived and is ready
for us.”
All eyes were turned toward the shore, where the little white tents of
the Overland Riders nestled at the base of the mountains, close to the
water’s edge, the camp having been pitched a short quarter of a mile up
the lake from the Lodge.
“It looks good to me,” declared the general. “I envy you young women
the life you are leading out here, and wish I might be so fortunate as
to belong to your outfit.”
“You’d regret it,” chuckled Emma Dean.
“Try me and see,” the general came back quickly.
“Very well, we will take you at your word, General,” answered Grace.
“This evening you shall have mess with the Overland Riders in their
camp. We shall undoubtedly be on short rations still, but that is a
part of the life.”
“Good! I accept,” nodded the general.
“The invitation includes all of your party, of course,” said Grace,
glancing inquiringly at the smiling faces around the cockpit of the
launch.
“I know it will be a delightful experience,” declared Mrs. Cartwright.
“Wonderful!” added Miss Cartwright.
“I, for one, already have accepted, in my own mind,” nodded the
general’s wife.
“Having lost our wagon with most of our table ware, we cannot offer you
any luxuries. We have only our mess kits, and the plates in them will
barely go around. It may be necessary for two persons to eat from the
same plate,” added Grace mischievously.
“May we sleep at the camp to-night? I should so dearly love to sleep in
a tent in the open,” declared Miss Cartwright.
“I fear it will be too cold for you. We will speak of it later,
however. After you have spent a few hours in camp and partaken of our
fare, you may not wish to remain over night.”
“Of course you are desirous of visiting the ancient homes of the cliff
dwellers up yonder?” questioned Mrs. Gordon, pointing to the mountains.
“Yes, indeed. I hope to do some exploring there, too,” answered Grace.
“When we land at the Lodge, if you good people will wait on the veranda
for me, I will run over to the camp and see what shape we are in, then
call for you later,” suggested Grace as they neared the landing place.
Grace and Hippy left their party at the Lodge pier and hurried to the
camp.
“We are to have company for mess this evening, Mr. Fairweather. How
well are we supplied with provisions?” she asked.
The old stagecoach driver said they had bacon, canned beans and coffee,
but not much of anything else.
“See if you can purchase something more at the Lodge, especially
potatoes. Did you find an Indian here taking care of the ponies?”
“Joe Smoky Face, as he called himself, was here lookin’ after the
ponies, but when I came he went away. Don’t like them Apaches. Bad
medicine, every one of ’em.”
“Joe is said to be trustworthy,” said Grace.
“Good Indians wear white men’s dress. This Redskin dresses like what he
is--an Apache--an’ he lives with his tribe up the mountain,” growled
Ike.
“Why worry about Indians?” interjected Lieutenant Wingate. “Food and
more food is the burning question of the hour.”
Grace directed the driver to take one of the horses and fetch some
potatoes and some few other necessaries from the Lodge.
“It is quite probable that we shall be here for a few days, so nothing
in the way of food need be left behind,” she told him.
Following Ike’s departure, Grace and Hippy began putting the finishing
touches to the camp. Blankets were neatly rolled and placed on the
folding cots; a fancy paper spread was laid over the rough table that
Ike had constructed for them, and paper napkins laid at each plate.
A bunch of wild asters, set between two stones, to keep them from
toppling over, completed the table decorations.
“There!” announced Grace, surveying the result of her labors. “We may
not be strong on food, but we have decorations. Perhaps the guests may
overlook the mere matter of food,” she added laughingly.
By the time the camp was in order, Ike came trotting up with his pack
animal. He had a bushel of potatoes, and some fresh vegetables from
which Grace prepared a salad, and while she was doing this, Ike thrust
the potatoes into hot ashes to bake.
“The young ladies will be here to help to finish getting the supper
ready, Mr. Fairweather. I shall return at seven with our company. One
of the guests is General Gordon, a brave soldier whom I met on the
battlefield in the Argonne. The other is Colonel Cartwright, another
valiant soldier of the late war. I thought you might be interested in
knowing something about these men, for they _are_ real men.”
“Just like myself,” added Hippy.
“Yes, Hippy, I agree with you there. Shall you go to the Lodge with me?
I think you had best do so as the ladies may need assistance over the
rough ground between here and the Lodge. Mr. Fairweather, our guests
may conclude that they wish to stay all night. If so, we ladies will
sleep in one tent, giving the guests the cots and most of the blankets.
What is your opinion of the weather?”
“Might rain.”
“I am of the same opinion. However, what’s the odds? Come, Hippy!”
Reaching the Lodge, Grace directed the girls to go to camp and have the
supper ready to be served at seven o’clock sharp, telling them of the
preparations that already had been made.
She then sat down to wait for her friends, who were still in their
rooms. There were any number of persons who welcomed the opportunity
to engage the Overland Rider in conversation, which at once turned to
war subjects. What Grace had to say about the war, however, did not
concern herself, but had to do with General Gordon’s achievements on
the western front.
“Won’t you please tell us, Mrs. Gray, how you won the French war cross
and the distinguished service medal?” begged a lady courteously.
“General Gordon evidently has been talking out of meetin’,” laughed
Grace. “Please excuse me from speaking of myself. Surely, you realize
that it would be most embarrassing to me to speak of myself.”
The lady begged her pardon, and declared that it was rude of her to
have asked the question. Grace smiled and began telling her questioner
of the work of the Overton Unit, and of Lieutenant Wingate’s valiant
services in the army flying corps. This led to stories of the war, and
when General Gordon and his party came down he found nearly all the
guests of the Lodge gathered about the Overton College girl, listening
to her praise, not only of the Overton girls, but of the young men of
America, who had fought the great fight.
“Are we late?” asked Mrs. Gordon, extending her hand.
“No, you are in good time, but I think we should start now. Where is
Lieutenant Wingate? I have not seen him since we reached the hotel.”
“Some one said he was seen trying to borrow a hat from the chef to wear
to supper,” answered a male voice.
“That is the army spirit of freedom,” nodded Grace. “Incidentally it
is like Lieutenant Wingate. He lost his hat on the way in, and the
wagon that carried most of our wearing apparel lies at the bottom of
a canyon. We will be going. If you ladies and gentlemen care to visit
our camp we shall be glad to have you do so to-morrow,” added Grace
courteously, turning to the guests to whom she had been telling war
stories.
“Here comes the lieutenant,” informed the man who had told Grace where
he had last seen Hippy. The lieutenant wore a derby hat, a full size
too small for him, and this, crowning his army uniform, made him look
ridiculous.
A laugh greeted his appearance.
Hippy’s face wore a severe expression. He offered his arm to Miss
Cartwright with grace and dignity. At least that was what he intended
it to be, but Grace thanked the kind fates that Emma Dean was not
present to express her opinion of Hippy’s appearance before all the
guests of the hotel.
“Have you decided to remain with us to-night, General?” asked Grace.
“Mrs. Gordon and myself and Miss Cartwright will accept your
hospitality, if you are certain that we shall not be crowding you.”
“There is plenty of room in the mountains,” answered Grace with a wave
of the hand. “You are used to campaigning, General, but I hope the
ladies will not regret their decision.”
They assured Grace that they would not; so the party started out full
of anticipation for the new experience that lay before them.
The general, when they reached the camp, turned to Grace with eyes
twinkling.
“I would know, even did I not know that this was your camp, that some
one who had been with the forces, had laid it out,” he said.
“Old Mr. Fairweather, our driver, laid it out,” answered Grace
mischievously.
“He is an apt pupil,” returned the general.
“You win, General,” laughed Grace.
“Isn’t this delightful?” cried Miss Cartwright. “And look at the table.
Pardon my ill manners, but this is so different from what I expected to
find in--in--”
“In a traveling circus,” finished Emma amid laughter.
“Oh, the worst is yet to come,” observed Hippy.
Grace introduced Mr. Fairweather to their guests, who shook hands
cordially with the old stagecoach driver.
“Are the potatoes done?” whispered Grace.
Ike nodded.
Odors of frying bacon and the aroma of coffee were in the air, and,
when Grace announced that the guests were to be seated, the summons was
quickly answered. Grace had brought a pound of butter with her from
the Lodge, a luxury that the Overland girls themselves had not enjoyed
since the first day out from Globe.
“I haven’t had such an appetite since I left France,” declared the
general.
“Perhaps you have not had so much exercise and fresh air in any one day
since then,” suggested Elfreda.
“Possibly that explains it,” replied the officer dryly.
The supper went along merrily, the stock of bacon being considerably
depleted when finally the guests refused another helping, and, at
Grace’s invitation, rose and strolled over to the cheerful campfire,
where they sat down, the men to smoke their pipes and the women to chat.
It was ten o’clock when Colonel Cartwright said he must be getting back
to the Lodge. He added that there was dancing there, and invited the
Overland girls to go over and dance, but Grace declined for her party,
saying that they had a strenuous day ahead of them, as they wished to
explore the cliff dwellers’ homes on the morrow. Grace had further
plans in mind regarding the explorations, but she said nothing to her
guests about it.
“General,” said Grace, calling the officer aside before the colonel and
his wife took their leave. “It looks like a storm to-night. I wish you
and Mrs. Gordon to remain if you desire to do so, but we may have a wet
time of it.”
“An old campaigner like myself doesn’t mind a little thing like a
wetting. You should know that.”
“I am not thinking of you, but of Mrs. Gordon and Miss Cartwright.”
“Both good scouts,” answered the general.
“Campers’ fare will be yours then, sir. Good-night, Colonel and Mrs.
Cartwright. We shall be happy to have you join us for mess at any time.”
Before leaving, the colonel invited the Overland girls to have dinner
with him at the Lodge on the following evening and remain for the dance.
Grace said they could not think of it, so far as the dinner was
concerned, but that, if they were not too tired, they would go over for
the dance.
The Gordons and Miss Cartwright resumed their positions by the campfire
after the colonel and his wife, escorted by Hippy, still wearing his
derby hat, started towards the Lodge.
The fire was blazing up cheerfully, and before it the girls of the
Overton Unit sat and talked with the guests of their campaigning days
in France.
Something whistled down from the air, and every person in the outfit
heard the thud when it struck the ground.
“A stone from the mountain,” said the general.
“I think not,” replied Grace, getting up.
“It fell right near where you’re standin’,” called Ike Fairweather as
Grace began looking about her alertly. “Looked like a stick.”
“Ah! I see it.” Grace sprang forward, followed by General Gordon, and,
with her pocket lamp, examined the object that had so mysteriously
fallen among them.
“An arrow!” exclaimed the general. “Probably a spent arrow from the
Indian camp.”
“The Indian camp is too far away for that, sir,” replied Grace.
“Broken, isn’t it, Mrs. Gray?” questioned the officer, stooping over to
pluck the missile from the ground.
“Wait!” warned the Overton girl. She examined the arrow as it stood
doubled over at the break, which was about midway of the shaft, then
withdrew the point and carried the whole to the campfire for further
examination.