A SEARCH FOR RELICS
The statement made by Colonel Berry that there might possibly be
something buried under the rock in the ravine had made a deep impression
on the Winnebagos and Sandwiches, and the possibility began to grow in
their minds until it became a very strong probability. Visions of arrow
heads, Indian pottery and ornaments were before them constantly, until
nothing would do but they must investigate. The elders were much amused
over the excitement, but voted it a harmless pastime and gave their full
consent to an attempt at scientific research.
"Older and wiser people than they have spent their time digging in the
dust for relics," said Uncle Teddy. "Even if they don't find what they
are looking for there is nothing lost, and as the colonel said, digging
is good exercise. It will be no small feat to move that rock over and if
they accomplish it they will be pretty good engineers."
There were two spades and many hatchets among the camp equipment, and
armed with these the Winnebagos and Sandwiches crossed the lake, went
along the river until they came to the big cedar tree and from there
struck into the woods, where they easily followed the trail they had
traveled on that other occasion, for the cedar trees along the way were
unmistakable guides. When they saw the rock again they were more certain
than ever that it had been marked for some reason.
"Hurry and let's shove it aside," said Hinpoha, who could hardly wait.
"You talk about shoving it aside as if it were a baby carriage," said
the Captain. "Can't you see it's imbedded in the earth?"
And not all their efforts would budge it one particle. So they began to
dig around the base. They dug and they dug; they heaved and they
perspired; they threw out the dirt by shovelfuls until it made a heap
several feet high, and still they did not come to the bottom of the
rock.
"I bet it goes clear through to China," said the Captain disgustedly,
resting on his spade and mopping his brow.
"What sillies we are!" said the Bottomless Pitt. "What are we trying to
dig the blooming rock out for? There wouldn't be anything under it that
far down. If anything's buried here it's in the ground at the base of
the rock."
"Well, there's the ground at the base of the rock," said the Captain,
pointing to the heap of dirt. "We've dug it all up. There wasn't
anything in it."
Slowly but undeniably the fact began to dawn on all of them. The marked
rock was not the burying ground of any Indian relics. Hinpoha held out
the longest, but even she had to admit it at last. Katherine, who had
been skeptical from the first, laughed loud and long.
"What fools these mortals be!" she quoted disgustedly. "Breaking our
backs digging up clay that's like iron and cutting up dozens of
perfectly good angle-worms all on account of an old rock with a mark on
it!"
"But the colonel said there _might_ be Indian relics," said
Hinpoha, "so it wasn't so silly."
"Well, there aren't any," said Katherine.
"Never mind," put in Gladys pacifically, "if we didn't find anything we
didn't lose anything either, and I've worked up such an appetite from
digging that I could eat an ox."
"So could I," said Sahwah. "Let's take the worms home with us and go
fishing this afternoon. Then all our digging won't be for nothing."
"I bet I can catch more than any of you," boasted Anthony, strutting on
ahead as usual.
Thus ended the quest for Indian relics and the excitement over the
marked rock. The elders were very polite on their return and did not ask
too many questions. "Never mind, chickens," said Aunt Clara soothingly.
"You're not the first who dug for treasure and didn't find it, and I've
a notion you won't be the last. Go fishing with you this afternoon? I
certainly will!" If Aunt Clara could be said to love one sport more than
any other that one was fishing. "Where did you get all the worms?"
"They're the relics we found," said Katherine. "We dug them out of the
hole we made."
"I dug most of them," said Anthony.
"He never touched one!" said Slim in an indignant aside to Hinpoha. "To
hear him talk you'd think he was the only one who ever did anything
around here."
Katherine considered fishing the most inane occupation under the sun, so
she curled up on the beach to read while the enthusiastic anglers put
out in the rowboats. Gladys did not care for fishing either, so she
decided to stay on shore and keep Katherine company.
"What are you reading?" she asked, sitting down beside her in the shadow
of the bluff.
Katherine held up the book so she could see the title.
"_Romeo and Juliet_!" exclaimed Gladys. "Why, Katherine! I thought
you hated love stories."
Katherine grinned rather shamefacedly. "I do, usually," she replied.
Gladys sat back and regarded her in wonder. Here was a new side coming
to light. Katherine the unromantic; Katherine the prosaic; the
independent, the hater of sentimental reading, devouring love stories
all of a sudden! Gladys drew pictures in the sand and pondered on the
meaning of it.
Katherine read on absorbedly for ten minutes, then she laid the book
down abruptly. "Gladys," she said, "I want you to tell me something."
"What is it?" asked Gladys, pausing in the middle of an intricate
pattern.
"What is the matter with me?" asked Katherine.
"What's the matter with you?" repeated Gladys. "There isn't
_anything_ the matter with you. You're a dear."
"There is, too," said Katherine. "Somehow all the girls I read about in
books are different. You're like the girls in books and so is Hinpoha
and so are the rest of you, but I'm not. I'm big and awkward and homely,
and that's all I'll ever be."
"No, you're not," declared Gladys. "You're the most fun that ever
happened."
"That's just the trouble," said Katherine, drawing up her knees and
clasping her bony hands around them. "Everybody thinks I'm a joke, and
that's all. Nobody ever admired me. People think I'm a cross between a
lunatic asylum and a circus. I'm so tired of hearing people say, 'What a
_funny_ girl that Katherine Adams is! She's a perfect scream!' They
never say 'What a nice looking girl,' or 'What a charming girl,' the way
they always do about you and Hinpoha. I _do_ wish somebody admired
me once without being so desperately amused! Now I want you to tell me
exactly what's the matter with my looks. Something's wrong, I know." And
she looked wistfully through the strands of hair that were falling over
her eyes.
Gladys sat up and regarded her fondly. "Dear, fly-away, come-to-pieces
Katherine!
"Do you mind if I make a few criticisms?" she asked gently.
"That's just what I asked you to do," said Katherine a trifle
impatiently.
"Isn't it because you're sort of--careless about your clothes?" began
Gladys. "You're always coming apart somewhere. There's generally a
string hanging out, or the end of a belt or the loop of a collar. You're
just as likely to have your hat on hind side before as not, and often
you've had on the skirt of one suit and the jacket of another."
She paused uncertainly and looked anxiously into Katherine's face to see
how she was taking it.
"Go on," said Katherine briefly.
"Your shoes are often run down at the heels," went on Gladys. "I know
it's an awful bother to keep them straight; mine are always running over
crooked. I have to have the left one fixed every three weeks. But it's
something that just has to be done if you want to keep looking neat.
"And then your hair, Katherine dear. It's so wispy; it's always hanging
in your face. Doesn't it hurt your eyes to look through it?"
Katherine put back the offending lock with an impatient gesture, but in
less than a minute it was all down again. "There!" she said. "You see
how it is! It just won't stay up!"
"Maybe it would if you arranged it a little differently," said Gladys.
"Couldn't you curl it?"
Katherine snorted. "I curl my hair!" she scoffed. "My child, life is too
short to waste it on anything like that."
"I don't know," said Gladys slowly. "I don't think anything is a waste
of time that helps to make a person attractive. You know we Camp Fire
Girls are supposed to 'seek beauty.' That means personal attractiveness
as much as anything else."
"I might take the curling iron for my symbol," said Katherine
whimsically. "Go on with the recital."
Gladys could not tell either from Katherine's tone or her expression
whether her frank speech had hurt her feelings or not, and she remained
silent.
"Go on," continued Katherine. "Isn't there a way to shorten up arms that
are two yards long?"
Gladys could not help smiling at the lean length of arm which Katherine
held out before her, stiff as a ramrod. "No, you can't shorten them,"
she said, "but you can help making them look any longer than necessary.
You generally stand with your shoulders drooped forward, and that pulls
your arms down. If you'd stand up straight and throw your shoulders back
your arms wouldn't look nearly so long."
Katherine looked at the arm and shook her head with such an air of
dejection that Gladys was overcome and flung her arms around her
passionately. "I won't say another word!" she declared. "Oh, I'm a
brute! Katherine dear, have I hurt your feelings?"
"Not at all," answered Katherine calmly. "You remember I asked you to
tell me what was the matter. I thank you for being so frank. I've
worried and worried about it, but I couldn't figure out what the matter
was and nobody ever took the trouble to tell me."
"Oh, Gladys," she went on, with such an under-current of wistfulness in
her tone that Gladys was almost moved to tears, "do you think I'll ever
be really nice looking? That I'll stop being a joke?"
"Of course you will!" said Gladys emphatically. "Do you know what I
heard papa saying to Uncle Teddy one night? He said, 'Wouldn't Katherine
be a stunning looking girl if she carried herself better and was well
dressed?' Did you hear that? He said 'stunning,' mind you. Not only
'nice looking,' but 'stunning.'"
"Did he really say that?" asked Katherine in amazement. "I didn't think
anybody cared how I looked; men least of all."
"Men notice those things a lot more than you think they do," said Gladys
with an air of worldly wisdom. "They talk about them, too, and sometimes
they can tell just what's wrong better than you can yourself.
"I think myself you would be stunning if you only took more care in
putting your clothes on. You're so bright and breezy. And you'd be so
stately if you stood straight."
"How shall I go about to acquire this majestic carriage?" asked
Katherine in the tone of a humble seeker after wisdom.
"Well," replied Gladys judicially, "you've humped over so long that
you've grown round-shouldered, and it'll take some time to correct that.
You want to go in for gym with all your might in college, and for
dancing, too. That'll teach you how to carry yourself gracefully better
than anything else."
"Thank--you," said Katherine slowly, when Gladys had finished her homily
on feminine charms, and returned thoughtfully to her _Romeo and
Juliet_.
"Mercy on us!" thought Gladys. "Whatever is going to happen? Katherine
has begun to worry about her looks!"
Katherine laid the book down after a while and stared solemnly out over
the lake.
"You're sure you're not offended at what I said?" asked Gladys, still
full of misgiving that she had been too frank.
"Not in the least," answered Katherine. "But say, would you mind writing
out what you told me? I'll never remember it if you don't. You write it
out and I'll tack it up and check off the items as I dress."
"All right," said Gladys, laughing. "I'll do that and if it works I'll
get out a book, 'How to Be Neat, in one Volume.' And now let's start the
fire. I see the bold fishermen are coming in."
Aunt Clara came up triumphantly swinging her string of fish; she had
caught five. The Captain had two and several of the others had one
apiece.
"How many did you catch, Anthony?" asked Katherine.
"None," replied Anthony, "but I'd have caught more than any of them if
I'd had a good rod," and he swished Uncle Teddy's best rod around
disdainfully.
"I don't doubt it," said Katherine.
Beside the fried fish there was tomato soup for supper. It was Mrs.
Evans' prize recipe and one of the favorite camp dishes. Nobody could
make tomato soup which quite equalled hers, in the opinion of the family
on Ellen's Isle. It didn't make any difference where she made it, up in
the kitchen tent on the gasoline stove or down on the beach, as now,
over an open fire.
"Nothing ever tasted so good," sighed Sahwah rapturously, dipping her
spoon diligently into the big tin cup in which her soup was served.
"_I_ like more pepper in mine," said Anthony, adding a touch from
the pepper pot, which stood on the ground beside him.
The rest made no comments. They were too busy.
"Slim," said Sahwah suspiciously, when her cup was empty, "just how much
soup have you eaten?"
"Four cupfuls," replied Slim.
"Mercy!" cried Aunt Clara. "That's more than a quart. It's a wonder you
didn't burst! I never saw a boy with such a capacity!"
"Ho, that's nothing," said Anthony. "I could eat twice as much, just as
easy."
"Let's see you do it!" said Slim suddenly.
Anthony looked rather taken aback.
"Yes," said Uncle Teddy, "let's see you do it. Make good your boast.
We're not in the habit of saying things around here that we can't back
up. Twice four cups is eight. You've had one; that leaves seven. We
challenge you to drink seven cups of soup. You've either got to drink
them or do anything else Slim tells you to do. Slim, what's the
alternative?"
"Eat soap," said Slim promptly.
Katherine grinned appreciatively at him. "Do you hear that, Anthony?"
Anthony began to look sick. "I'll do it tomorrow," he said.
"No, you'll not!" said Slim. "You'll do it right here and now before all
these folks."
Anthony looked beseechingly at Uncle Teddy, but the latter was looking
at him sternly. "You brought it upon yourself," he said. "Now either
make good your boast or take the alternative."
Slim filled the cup and handed it to Anthony. "I bet I can do it," he
said defiantly, and set it to his lips. With the first mouthful his face
puckered up. The soup was red hot with pepper. He himself had sprinkled
a generous quantity into the kettle after touching up his own cupful.
But he had been more generous than he knew.
"I can't drink that stuff," he sputtered. "It's all pepper."
"That doesn't make any difference," said Slim, unmoved. "Drink it
anyway."
And they made him do it. Cupful after cupful they forced upon him,
threatening an immediate diet of soap whenever he paused. After the
fifth cup Anthony began to suspect that it was not wise to make rash
statements about the capacity of the human stomach; after the sixth he
was entirely convinced. The results of that sixth cup made the judges
decide to suspend the last of the sentence. Anthony had got all that was
coming to him.
A sorrier or more subdued boy never lived than Anthony that night.
"It was heroic treatment," said Uncle Teddy thoughtfully to Aunt Clara,
as they wandered off by themselves in the moonlight, "but it took
something like that to make any impression on him. He is the most
insufferable little braggart that ever lived. I only hope the impression
made was deep enough."
And beyond a doubt it was, for never again was Anthony heard to utter a
boast in the presence of the rest.