A DARING INTRUDER
Summer was at its height now, and so popular had the camp idea become
that friend after friend just called, or paid visits to the Bobolinks,
who in turn were as generous with entertaining as their limited
quarters permitted.
Almost every pleasant evening was spent around the campfire, this
entertainment never seeming to lose its fascination. Often the
resources of Miss Mackin and her friends from Camp Sub Norm, the new
camp erected after the storm's devastation, were put to the test for a
new story; but the fire kindled enthusiasm, and the glow inspired
fancy, so that rarely was an evening closed, and seldom did the embers
fall upon an empty hour, or a tale lacking thrill.
The sun dial was now "working," although the sun could not be depended
upon always, but it looked picturesque, and if nothing else it served
to keep up the girls' sense of observation until not a few even
claimed to be able to foretell showers by it, although there was no
barometric attachment to the simple, primitive device.
Hikes were becoming more popular as the season advanced, and it was on
a glorious August day, when the sky was dyed a deep blue and the sun
was registering every hour accurately on the garden clock, that Miss
Mackin proposed a long hike with the noon meal in the woods.
"Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and hike, hike, hike," sang
the girls as they prepared their lunches.
But the trouble seemed to be not everyone of them had a "Kit bag" nor
even a pretty good imitation of one. But Corene came to the rescue
with good stout wrapping paper, which she had providentially tucked
away in a dry box.
"I'll glue you up some war-time bags," she offered, "if you make the
sandwiches. I know exactly how to cut the bags, and they'll dry in the
sun as quickly as you have the grub ready."
So while the others prepared "eats," Corene and Cleo "did the bags,"
neat little kits they turned out, too, with a good, stout handle of
strong twine that might easily be slipped on to a strap and carried
knapsack fashion.
"The real joy of it is," whispered Louise, "we are going over the
hills where the danger signs grow. Perhaps we'll find the cave, or be
held up by bandits, or something thrilling like that."
"Lovely!" exclaimed Julia. "But do let us keep close enough together
to go in pairs, at any rate. I should hate to have to do both the
cooking and serving for bandits. It's quite bad enough here with the
serving taken off my hands."
"All right, Jule. Depend upon it, we'll stick around you," declared
Grace. "We don't want to lose our own fireman right in the height of
the season."
Miss Mackin was smiling good naturedly. Her hike preparations were
complete and she sat out in the fresh, early morning, watching her
young charges flutter around like little brown beetles, always in one
another's way, yet never seeming to interfere, as they made their
sandwiches, divided the hard tack, squeezed out lemons and bottled the
juice; for the hike was to be a real picnic with all the trimmings.
"I do hope, girls," said the director, as they were finally ready to
start, "that you are not going gunning for some big, exciting
adventure. You see, I know a little about your exploits of previous
summers" (she winked knowingly and they wondered how she knew), "and I
have such a lovely, lady-like report to turn in," again that
explanatory chuckle, "that it would be really cruel to spoil it now."
"Don't you like adventures?" asked Helen, innocently.
"Love them. But there are so many brands on the market, and we don't,
any of us, care for the cheap, trashy kind."
The Scouts all agreed on this, and when Camp Comalong was securely
"put away for the day" they started off with a song that included a
little good-bye to the flag that was to act sentinel during their
absence.
"Do you think, by any chance, we might get Peg to come along?" Grace
asked Cleo.
"We pass by her cottage, we can give a whoo-hoo. It won't do any harm
to ask her."
"We can say we need a guide. I've heard folks say she has guided
parties through the mountains. That's one reason they call her 'Peg of
Tamarack Hills,' I believe," said Grace.
They were nearing the turn that wound past the log cabin.
"Are those tamarack trees, Mackey?" Louise asked. She was pointing to
the giant green "Christmas trees" that stood in a group near a little
settling of water, scarcely large enough to be called a pond but
something more sizable than a basin pool.
"Yes, that's the tamarack," said the director. "See how it runs to a
perfect pyramid, and not like the other greens of that character, this
one does lose its green in winter."
"Sort of molts, I guess," said Cleo, "for those branches are covered
with green pin feathers."
They stopped for a few minutes to study this tree of the larch family.
It would add to their nature knowledge and give at least one item of
value to their picnic hike.
"Isn't it very straight and tall?" observed Isabel. This feature was
so obvious the others had not mentioned it.
"Yes, that's why they make the telephone poles of it, although, I
believe, it is not so durable as the tall cedars," explained Miss
Mackin.
"The little tuffs are just like rosettes," commented Julia. She was
trying to reach the lowest branch with a long stick.
"Like pom-poms, I think," added Grace, who was barely looking at the
big trees but kept searching past them, to the low log cabin that
seemed now like a bird house under the trees, and against the big
hills.
Miss Mackin described to the girls the blossom of these trees, told
them of the "rosey plummets that shade from pink to purple," and soon
exhausted her personal knowledge to supply their interest; then they
journeyed forth again on the next "leg of their hike."
Grace and Cleo tarried behind the others. They were still on the
lookout for Peg.
Giving the familiar woods call they waited a few minutes but received
no answer.
"There's Shag," said Cleo, "and he's running around as if someone were
talking to him. See, there's a light dress moving behind the
honeysuckle arbor."
"It can't be Peg. I've never seen her wear a white skirt," replied
Grace. They could easily see the movement of white between the green
vined lattice. "And it can't be Aunt Carrie--she wouldn't wear white
either."
"Just let's go up the walk and see," suggested Cleo daringly. "Someone
might be prowling around."
It was only a few steps out of their way, and wild flowers always
offered an excuse for leaving the path, so Grace and Cleo had no
reason to hesitate.
Shag raced out to meet them as they entered the grounds, but the
figure in white darted farther into the heavy shrubbery.
"That you, Peg?" called Cleo.
No answer.
"Come on," whispered Grace, "let's go in farther."
With Shag close to their heels they followed the wild-grown path, and
presently came up to the end of it.
"Buzz!" whispered Cleo; for the white skirted one was now forced out
of the shrubbery and stood facing the girls who had followed her up.
"Oh, we thought you were--that is we were looking for Peg Ramsdell,"
stammered Cleo.
"She's not home," snapped the intruder. "I'm Leonore Fairbanks. I
don't think you happen to know my name," said the one who had formerly
played only silly parts, "and I came here on business." She made this
very emphatic. "The dog is so vicious he won't let me go near the door
or I might get what I want even though Peg is away."
How evident was her change of manner! Why?
"Shag is trained to take care of the cottage, I believe," ventured
Cleo, noticing how faithfully the big collie performed his duty, for
while Leonore Fairbanks kept down on the path he was friendly enough,
but each time she attempted to put her foot on a step of the porch he
growled threateningly.
"We must hurry after our friends," Grace said awkwardly. "We are going
on an all-day hike."
"Over to Big Nose?" asked Leonore.
"That way," replied Cleo.
"Then you may meet Peg." The girl's face swiftly changed as evidently
her mind was working as swiftly. "Say," she spoke suddenly, "be good
sports and don't mention that you've seen me here, will you?"
"Why?" demanded both girls in unison.
"Because you know she's such a crazy kid and does such foolish things
really. You can believe me it will be all the better for her if she
doesn't go flying off the reel, as she would if she knew I came up
here. I came on business for dad, and you know I hate to ask a favor,
but it would be best if you didn't mention this. If you are a friend
of Peg's I think you might do that much for her."
"We are as friendly as she will let us be," said Cleo frankly. "But we
can't really promise anything. We must run. The girls will think we
are lost," and giving faithful Shag a parting pat they ran off to
overtake the hiking party.
"Isn't that queer?" exclaimed Grace. She had snatched up a bunch of
wild flowers for her delay alibi.
"Very suspicious, I should say," returned Cleo. "And of course, if we
meet Peg we are bound to tell her."
"I think we should," agreed Grace. "There must be some reason for that
girl's change of manner, and I'm sure it can't be anything that would
benefit Peg."
"No, and her name is Leonore Fairbanks," said Cleo. "Rather pretty.
There, the girls are waiting for us."
No explanation for the delay seemed necessary and the interrupted hike
was presently doing double time over the fragrant by-paths. Of course
the tardy ones would tell the story quickly as an opportunity came up.
The top of the hill was reached at last, and from that point the view
of the lake and its surroundings lay like a panorama spread out on a
silky canvas. It was well worth hiking for, and the Bobbies were
breathless in admiration. They scampered from one rock to another,
each claiming a superior view until this feature took on the
proportions of a new outdoor game.
To the right was a dense evergreen forest; small tiered mountains to
the left. They stood in a rocky gorge between this and Big Nose Rock.
Presently the whinnying of a horse startled the little sightseers.
Then Julia called out from her perch on a big flat stone:
"Look, girls! Up on the rock! There's Peg! What can she be doing away
up there?"
All eyes turned to the highest point, and there, like some wild thing
of the mountains, stood Peg. She was hatless, and in the usual brown
riding outfit. As if the call had reached her, although distance made
this impossible, she turned suddenly, threw her head up in a listening
attitude, then with a quick move that had in it the impatience of a
disappointment, she vanished in the rocks.
"What ever can she be doing away up there?" repeated Isabel.
"Exploring, perhaps," guessed Julia, "but she has to leave her horse
so far away. See, there he is."
"And look," again indicated Louise, "there is her aunt over under that
tree, reading. She hasn't seen us yet."
"Perhaps we can get them to join our picnic," exclaimed Grace. She was
unusually anxious to speak with Peg.