THE ROOM OF MYSTERY
How things had changed! The new day stood out independent of its past
and future. Peg had actually spent the night in the Bobbies' camp, and
her treasure was now hidden in their packing-case safe.
Also, dear Camp Comalong was fading away, or was it looming up large
as a proposed Samaritan camp?
Breakfast was not finished when Benny came pumping along on his wheel.
"Folks got word about your aunt, Julia," he began after a very
informal greeting, "and I came over to tell you your mother wants you
to come home sure, day after to-morrow."
"I'm going to, Ben," replied Julia. "My Aunt Marie is bringing me
something from Paris. I'll be on hand to welcome her, never fear,"
said the blonde girl archly.
"We are going to give up camp, Ben," announced his own sister, Grace.
"Won't you have a bun, or something else to eat?" she invited the boy,
who stood with hands in pockets, plainly admiring the camp life
freedom before him.
"Going to give up?" he almost shouted. "Then can we fellows have it?"
"Oh, Ben, perhaps you boys could have it after the next two weeks, but
for that time we are going to sacrifice it for some very needy city
children, who only get a breath of real air when they come up on an
excursion," explained Grace.
"Oh, a fresh air camp!" Benny's voice fell in disappointment.
"Not just that kind," continued the sister, "but we saw some poor,
little pale faces the other day, and we just couldn't stand their
longing for a few days in the real country. So we are all going back
to our cottages, and going to give up the Comalong for two weeks
before school opens."
"Then where would we fellows come in? Two weeks before school----"
"Our schools don't open till later," explained Louise, "and you know,
Benny, September is the most beautiful month to camp," she placated.
"Every month is good enough," insisted the boy, "but of course, if
you've promised." He was evidently not fired with the same sort of
philanthropy that inspired the girls.
"Come on, Benny, try our camp-made Johnny-cake," urged Louise. "Just
think, we bake that right on top of that stone oven."
"I don't want to think of it," growled the real boy. "I know what we
Boy Scouts could do with this outfit."
"Poor Ben," and Grace threw an arm around the brown-haired little
fellow. "Never mind. I'm coming home and I'll make you as much fudge
as every boy in your crowd will want to eat--at one sitting," she
qualified.
He was finally induced to sample the Johnny-cake, but when he left
there was a defiance in his manner, akin to recklessness.
"I don't care, anyhow," he prevaricated. "We're going to camp up on
the hills next week," he flung back, jerking his wheel up in the air
to start, as if it had been a pony with its bit too tight.
"A busy day approach--eth," warned Corene. "We must have our trial swim
this morning, you know."
"Yes, and we have to go for the mail. It's my turn and yours, Weasy,"
said Cleo.
"And I've got to go around to all the cottages and give warning we are
going to break camp, I suppose," said Julia. "I know the mothers will
be glad to get the news, although they may not admit it."
"And I'm going to take a run up to Peg's and see if she is all right,"
declared Corene. "Maybe now that she won't go over the hills looking
for that lost claim, she may take time to have a civilized swim with
us."
"She may; but then again she may not," interposed Cleo. "Don't you
remember she said there was something she was disappointed about not
being finished?"
"Yes; we couldn't get all the story, there were so many
interruptions," said Corene. "But wasn't she a wonderful girl to work
so hard to follow out her father's ambitions?"
"Yes, like a big, strong boy, she has been going up those hills daily.
She didn't say just what she was looking for, did she?" asked Julia.
"Zinc mine, wasn't it?" suggested Louise.
"Something about ores," added Julia. "You know her Aunt Carrie said
Mr. Ramsdell used to be a government geologist."
"Yes," agreed Louise, vaguely. Geology meant stones, they all knew,
and as for the ores--well, it didn't seem to be gold and to the
indifferent ones no other metal seemed to suggest sensational
developments just then.
An hour later they were in the lake, trying out their contest stunts.
Corene did not succeed in inducing Peg to accompany them, as the
excitement around the log cabin was still in evidence. Even the
officer sort of "hung 'round," to "keep an eye on things," and when
Corene made her flying trip up there she found Peg so busy that good
sense forbade the Scout delaying her.
The swim over, next came the delivery of all those homemade messages.
Hither and thither scouted the Scouts, until lunch time was pointed
out by the faithful little sun dial, and that was not a point to be
overlooked.
Only two days remained now until the week would be closed. Then would
come the excitement of breaking camp.
Miss Mackin had already notified headquarters of the Bobolinks'
determination, and to-day a visitor was expected to take inventory.
It was all delightfully thrilling. In spite of the natural regret that
accompanied this sacrifice, there was also that joy of satisfaction
that always comes with the doing of a real heroic act. Every
girl-Bobbie of them felt it her own personal privilege to invite those
city youngsters out to Lake Hocomo, and likewise each felt the elation
of "doing a big thing."
"I wonder when Peg will come back for her valuables?" mused Grace.
They were "slicking" up the grounds for the day's inspection--someone
always came by and looked in on pleasant mornings.
As if the expressed thought had ticked off a message, scarcely had
Grace uttered it than Peg and Shag came racing over the hills.
"Here she comes!" sang out the impetuous Helen.
"Oh, say, girls!" Peg called on ahead of herself. "Don't you want to
come up and see my cabin?"
"Do we?" The enthusiasm of Cleo's tone was pure compliment.
"Just wait until we get these papers in the incinerator," panted
Julia. "We will all be off duty then and glad to go up to your cabin."
Everyone felt that way, which was evinced by the unusual haste made in
the slicking-up process.
Peg looked like a different girl! She had discarded the mountaineer's
costume and wore a simple white dress. The effect was startling. All
that severity of outline had vanished. Even the slick black hair
seemed to turn up just a little--perhaps with the heat or was it from
excitement?
The girls were surprised but hid the fact completely. With a word to
Miss Mackin--who like the others was hurrying, although her task was to
finish a very pretty basket for her mother--they all raced off with Peg
and Shag. The big dog was frantic with delight. It was very evident he
had taken a real liking to the little Scouts.
"You will have to overlook some things," warned Peg, as they neared
the bungalow, "for although auntie is a crackerjack housekeeper she
has me to battle against."
Awe, the concomitant of enthusiasm, possessed the girls as they stood
on the threshold of that mystery house. As Peg ushered them in,
however, each expressed surprise.
"What a duck of a room!" cried Grace.
"Isn't it?" agreed Corene.
They were surveying a very quaintly arranged room, indeed. The low
beamed ceilings were of natural rough cedar, the field-stone fireplace
stood out like a primitive shrine, and on the floors were the most
wonderful Indian rugs.
"We brought those rugs from the West," Peg explained, noting the
girls' admiration. "But I want to show you--my studio."
She unlocked a door and ushered the visitors into a very long darkened
room. When all were within, she swung the door back, shot a bolt and
switched on lights.
"Oh, a shop!" exclaimed Isabel.
"That's just what it is," answered Peg. "This was dad's shop and I
have been tinkering here since he left it to me. I miss him
dreadfully, for dad and I were great pals," she said bravely.
"And this is the machinery you have been guarding?" said Louise, just
daring to put one finger on a long piece of steel that did not go off
following the contact.
"Yes," said Peg. "You see, even now I would not leave that door
unlocked, and we have never kept a servant since dad started this
invention. It is a machine for drilling rock; it will pick up certain
kinds of minerals and is most valuable because it can be worked
without steam power. Dad had not quite finished it, but he was
positive of its value, and a single look at the simple mechanism, he
warned me, would easily betray its principle to any skilled mechanic.
That is why the windows are boarded. See," she went to a window and
raised a shade, "I can get light from those slanted boards," she
explained, "but no one could possibly see into this room. We have a
tank that makes our own gas. Daddy was very ingenious," she finished,
coming back to the machine from which she had taken a heavy blanket
covering.
The Scouts looked about, bewildered. What could a girl do, really,
with iron and steel, and leather belts!
"And how did your father get these parts made?" asked Julia. She knew
something of machinery, as her own father was a manufacturer.
"Dad made the patterns, in wood, you know, then he had them cast in
the city. He assembled the parts himself, of course. I have never
allowed an eye to rest on this," she declared, "for to me it is all
something sacred. When Uncle Edward comes he will only have to finish
the negotiations with the patent office and ship them this model. It
is not so big--that is one of its great attractions." She seemed to
fondle the queer-looking machine, which was, as she said, not very
large; it could all be put in a crate the size of a packing case.
"And men came last night to break in just to see this?" It was
incredible, Louise thought.
"Yes, but there is more than the machine you see," said Peg. "There
are the drawings, and samples of ore and--other things. I have those in
your safe you know," finished Peg.
"It is dear of you to trust us with all this----" began Julia.
"I wanted to do it, you have been so splendid to me," declared the
black-haired girl. "And I must have seemed so--bitter!"
"No, just mysterious, and that made you fascinating," declared Grace,
giving Peg a counterfeit hug.
"But how did you do any of this sort of work?" pressed Corene, still
looking at the formidable machine.
"I have a hand drill, and every single day I spend some time just as
dad did, collecting specimens. You see, I am looking for zinc."
"What does it look like?" asked Cleo.
"It is a little, bluish white vein. I have pieces in my box. I'll show
them to you perhaps this evening," offered Peg.
"And two men called up to the tent just after you left this morning,"
remarked Cleo. "They yelled 'sissy' and we didn't answer them."
"Were they riding?" asked Peg.
"Yes. Two big capitalistic looking gents," said Corene. She was still
fascinated with the ore drill, for Corene had a manual training turn
of mind.
"Mr. Fairbanks and his New York partner," explained Peg. "They came up
here with all sorts of threats, if I didn't let them see dad's papers.
But when I told them the Tourlander was coming in port--as you told me,
you know--they didn't seem quite so--fierce. Big men like Fairbanks are
always cowards," declared Peg, with a pardonable sneer.
"Did they see your guns?" joked Louise, looking about for a possible
glimpse of the weapons.
"Didn't get a chance. I just met them outside the hedge, and they
didn't even leave their horses."
A long low bench stood under the window with the inverted blind. One
by one the girls slid into place on it, like a band of little
kindergartners.
"I have always longed to see a real factory," ventured Cleo. "I should
love to hear your buzz, Peg."
The "manager" stepped over to a small machine and pressed her foot
upon it. The buzz promptly responded.
"Oh, let me try it! What will it do?" exclaimed Corene from the
admiring group now surrounding the buzzer.
"It will grind anything. See, it is run by a motor," explained Peg.
"Wonder would it cut Corene's hair, nice and even," teased Cleo. "I've
heard that very self same tune in barber shops."
"But where do you get your electricity from?" pressed Julia, the
intelligent.
"There are a few poles in the hills and dad had one tapped for his own
use," replied Peg. "You know the big hotel is wired."
"If we had known it we might have had a pole tapped for Comalong use,"
put in Grace, facetiously. "I've had an awful time doing my hair at
the beach-tree dressing table. Just think what a spot-light would have
done for us."
Corene was grinding the point of her belt buckle on the revolving
emery wheel; Cleo was examining some outlines and drawings tacked to a
drawing board, while the attention of Louise was riveted upon a line
of tools set in graduated order upon a convenient shelf, as neatly
placed as the kitchen knives, spoons and ladles in her mother's
orderly pantry at home.
"Peg," said Corene, trying the buckle's point in her blouse, "couldn't
we open a little factory here and sharpen knives and forks for the
campers? We might fix umbrellas too. I've seen the grind men do it at
this sort of buzzer."
Peg laughed happily at the girl's humor. "You don't know how good it
seems to hear real, human words in this room again," she said after an
emphatic pause. "Auntie has been so afraid of everything that I
suppose I've inhaled the air of fear, unconsciously."
"I think Corey's idea perfectly spiffing," added Cleo. She was looking
for something to sharpen on the wheel.
"You mean spoofing, Clee," insisted Grace. "If you will read trash why
don't you do it with a pad and pencil?"
"But all joking aside, girls, can't you imagine what all this really
means? I think Peg is the bravest girl we have ever met," Corene
declared heartily.
"Oh, much," added Grace, with a side step not indicated in the factory
recreational programme. "Can't we do something to testify to our
esteem? You know, the little 'token of' business."
"Kindly keep your skirts away from my wheel," ordered Corene, still
grinding, "or you may get a most unexpected 'token of' around the
ankles."
"Your dad was a wonderful draftsman, Peg," commented Cleo, with her
newly trained eye tracing the intricacies of the drawing board. "I
never could learn to follow such fine lines and measurements."
"They wouldn't look well on your nut-bowl or your candle-sticks,
Clee," remarked Louise. "Better stick to the school designs; they're
simpler."
"This is all very lovely, and more absorbing than the mechanical
display at the State fair," put in Julia, "but you know, girls, Peg
hasn't really hired us yet."
A tap at the door interrupted.
"Peg," called Miss Ramsdell. "Here's a message."
Quickly opening the door, the girl accepted from the aunt the yellow
paper, but there was no need to read its simple statement, for the
joyous face of Aunt Carrie gave out the good tidings. Still Peg read
aloud:
"Arrive to-morrow (Saturday), will go at once to you at Lake Hocomo.
"Edward Ramsdell."
"Joy! Joy!" Peg cried. "Really coming, oh, girls! Now I can have some
fun helping you break camp! Isn't it splendid!"
"That's a promise, remember, positively," insisted Julia, as they
prepared to leave. "Bring Miss Ramsdell and Shag. Remember, we expect
you pos--i--tive--ly."
Then the door was locked from the outside, on the precious invention
of Peg's departed father.