ON THE WAY
"All aboard!" The hoarse voice of Captain MacLaren boomed out like a fog
horn, waking a clatter of echoes among the tall cliffs on the opposite
shore of the river, and sending the seventy-five girls on the dock all
skurrying for the _Carribou's_ gangplank at once.
"Hurry up, Hinpoha! We're getting left behind." Agony strained forward
on the suitcase she was helping Hinpoha to carry down the hill and
endeavored to catch up with the crowd, a proceeding which she soon
acknowledged to be impossible, for Hinpoha, rendered breathless by the
hasty scramble from the train, lagged farther behind with every step.
"I--can't--go--any--faster!" she panted, and abruptly let go of her end
of the suitcase to fan herself with her hand. "What's the use of
rushing so, anyway?" she demanded plaintively. "They won't go off
without us; they can see us coming down the hill. It wasn't _my_ fault
that my camera got wedged under the seat and made us be the last ones
off the train," she continued, "and I'm not going to run down this hill
and go sprawling, like I did in the elevator yesterday. Are the other
girls on already?" she asked, searching the crowd below with her eyes
for a sight of the other Winnebagos.
"Sahwah and Oh-Pshaw are on the boat already," replied Agony, "and Gladys
and Migwan are just getting on. I don't see Katherine anywhere, however.
Oh, yes," she exclaimed, "there she is down there in the crowd. What are
they all laughing at, I wonder? Oh, look, Katherine's suitcase has come
open, and all her things are spilled out on the dock. I thought it would
be strange if she made the trip without some kind of a mishap. Oh, dear,
did you ever see anyone so funny as Katherine?"
"Well," observed Hinpoha in a tone of relief, "we don't have to hurry
now. It'll take them at least ten minutes to get that suitcase shut
again. I know, because I helped Katherine pack. I had to sit on it with
all my might to close it."
"_All Aboard_!" came the second warning roar from Captain MacLaren,
accompanied by a deafening blast of the _Carribou's_ whistle. Agony
picked up Hinpoha's suitcase in one hand and her own in the other, and
with an urgent "Come on!" made a dash down the remainder of the hill and
landed breathless at the gangplank of the waiting steamer just as the
engine began to quiver into motion. Hinpoha was just behind her, and
Katherine trod closely upon Hinpoha's heels, carrying her still unclosed
suitcase out before her like a tray, to keep its contents from spilling
out.
Migwan was waiting for them at the head of the gangplank. "We've saved a
place for you up in the bow," she said. "Hurry up, we're having _such_ a
time holding it for you. The boat is simply _packed_."
The four girls picked their way through a litter of suitcases, paddles,
cameras, tennis rackets and musical instruments that covered every inch
of deck space between the chairs, and joined the other Winnebagos in
their place in the bow. Hinpoha sank down gratefully upon a deck chair
that Oh-Pshaw had obligingly been holding for her and Agony disposed
herself upon a pile of suitcases, from which vantage point she could get
a good look at the crowd.
The _Carribou_ had turned her nose about and was gliding smoothly
upstream, following the random curvings of the lazy Onawanda as it wound
through the low-lying, wooded hills of the Shenandawah country, singing
a carefree wanderer's song as it flowed. It was a glorious, balmy day in
late June, dazzlingly blue and white, sparklingly golden. It was the
_Carribou's_ big day of the year, that last day of June. On all other
days she made her run demurely from Lower Falls Station to Upper Falls,
carrying freight and a handful of passengers on each trip; but every
year on that last day of June freight and ordinary passengers stood
aside, for the _Carribou_ was chartered to carry the girls of Camp
Keewaydin to their summer hunting grounds.
The Winnebagos looked around with interest at the girls who were to be
their companions for the summer, all as yet total strangers to them.
Girls of every shape and size, of every shade of complexion, of every
age between sixteen and twenty. A number were apparently "old girls,"
who had been at Camp Keewaydin in former years; they flocked together in
the bow right behind the Winnebagos, chattering animatedly, singing
snatches of camp songs, and uttering conjectures in regard to such
things as whether they would be in the Alley or the Avenue; and who was
going to be councilor in All Saints this year.
A number of these old girls were grouped in an adoring attitude around a
pretty young woman who talked constantly in an animated tone, and at
intervals strummed on a ukulele. Continual cries of "Pom-pom!" rose on
the air from the circle surrounding her. It was "_Dear_ Pom-pom,"
"Pom-pom, you angel," "O _darling_ Pom-pom! Can't you fix it so that I
can be in your tent this year?" and much more in the same strain.
"Pom-pom is holding her court again this year, I see," said a biting
voice just behind Agony.
Agony maneuvered herself around on her perch and glanced down at the
speaker. She was a decidedly plain girl with a thick nose and a wide
mouth set in a grim line above an extraordinarily heavy chin. Her face
was turned partly away as she spoke to the girl next to her, but Agony
caught a glimpse of the sarcastic expression which informed her
features, and a little chill of dislike went through her. Agony was
extremely susceptible to first impressions of people.
The girl addressed made an inaudible reply and the first girl continued
in low but emphatic tones, "Well, you won't catch me fetching and
carrying for her and playing the part of the adoring slave, I can tell
you. I think it's perfectly silly, the way the girls all get a crush on
her."
There was a pause, and then the other girl asked, somewhat hastily, "Who
do you suppose will get the Buffalo Robe this year?"
"Oh, Mary Sylvester will, of course," came the reply. "She nearly got it
last year. Now that Peggy Atterbury isn't coming back Mary'll be the
most popular girl in camp without a doubt. Look at her over there,
trying to be sweet to Pom-pom."
"Isn't she stunning in that coral silk sweater?" murmured the other
girl.
"She has too much color to wear that shade of pink," returned the
sarcastic one.
Agony's eyes traveled over to the group surrounding Pom-pom and rested
upon the girl who, next to Pom-pom herself, was the center of the group.
She was very much like Agony herself, with intensely black hair, snow
white forehead and richly red lips, though a little slighter in build
and somewhat taller. A frank friendliness beamed from her clear dark
eyes and her smile was warm and sincere. Agony felt drawn to her and
jealous of her at the same time. _The most popular girl in camp_. That
was the title Agony coveted with all her soul. To be prominent; to be
popular, was Agony's chief aim in life; and to be pointed out in a crowd
as _the_ most popular girl seemed the one thing in the world most
desirable to her. She, too, would be prominent and popular, she
resolved; she, too, would be pointed out in the crowd.
The sarcastic voice again broke in upon her reverie. "Have you seen the
hippopotamus over there in the bow? I should think a girl would be
ashamed to get that stout."
Agony glanced apprehensively at Hinpoha, who was staring straight out
over the water, but whose crimson face betrayed only too plainly that
she had heard the remark. The rest of the Winnebagos had undoubtedly
heard it also, as well as a number of others rubbing elbows with them,
for a sudden embarrassed silence fell over that corner of the boat and a
dozen pairs of eyes glanced from Hinpoha to the speaker, who, not one
whit abashed, continued to stare scornfully at the object of her
ridicule.
"Of all the bad manners!" said Agony to Sahwah in an indignant
undertone, which, with the characteristic penetrating quality of Agony's
voice, carried perfectly to the ears of the girl behind her. A light,
satirical laugh was the reply. Agony turned to bestow a withering glance
upon this rude creature, and met a pair of greenish tan eyes bent upon
her with an expression of cool mockery. In the instant that their eyes
met there sprang up between them one of those sudden antagonisms that
are characteristic of very positive natures; the two hated each other
cordially at first sight, before they had ever spoken a word to each
other. Like fencers' swords their glances crossed and fell apart, and
each girl turned her back pointedly upon the other. Broken threads of
conversation were picked up by the group around them, shouts of laughter
came from the group surrounding Pom-pom, who was reciting a funny poem,
and the tense moment passed.
The other Winnebagos forgot the incident and gave themselves over to
enjoyment of the beautiful scene which was unrolling before their eyes
as the _Carribou_ bore them further and further into the wilds; great
dark stretches of woodland brooding in silence on the hillsides; an
occasional glimpse of a far distant mountain peak wreathed in mist, and
near by many a merry little stream romping down a hillside into the
mother arms of the Onawanda. Gradually the shores had drawn close
together until the travelers could look into the cool depths of the
forests past which they were gliding, and could hear the calling of the
wild birds in their leafy sanctuary.
Just past a long stretch of woods which Hinpoha thought might be
enchanted, because the trees stood so stiffly straight, the _Carribou_
rounded a bend, and there flashed into sight an irregular row of white
tents scattered among the pines on a rise of ground some hundred or more
feet back from the river.
"There's camp," Sahwah tried to say to Hinpoha, but her voice was
drowned in the shriek of ecstasy which rose from the old campers.
Handkerchiefs waved wildly; paddles smote the deck with deafening
thumps; cheer after cheer rolled up, accompanied by the loud tooting of
the _Carribou's_ whistle. Captain MacLaren always joined in the racket
of arrival as heartily as the girls themselves, taking delight in seeing
how much noise he could coax from the throat of his steam siren.
Amid the racket the little vessel nosed her way up alongside a wooden
dock, and before she was fairly fast the younger members of last year's
delegation had leapt over the rail and were scurrying up the path. The
older ones followed more sedately, having stopped to pick up their
luggage, and to greet the camp directors who stood on the dock with
welcoming hands outstretched. Last of all came the new girls, looking
about them inquiringly, and already beginning to fall in love with the
place.