MERMAIDS
“Girls, put on your bathing suits. It’s so much warmer to-day we can
take our morning dip.” Miss Hamersley issued the order from her tent at
half-past six, and a few minutes later a troop of girls in bathing suits
gathered under the trees before their teacher, who was also dressed for
a plunge. “We are going to start our routine of camp life this morning.
We’ll begin with the ‘setting up’ drill,” she said. She made her pupils
form in line, and led them through a series of calisthenic exercises
which sent the blood tingling through their veins.
The drill over, the girls went down to the lake. Morning clouds still
hung about the distant hills, but the mist had lifted from the calm
water, and the basin on the edge of which Camp Huairarwee stood flashed
in the early sunlight.
“Ugh! It’s cold! I’ll never screw up my courage to go under,” said
Betty, as she dipped her hand into the ripples, while Frances sent
Roderick Dhu dashing in after a stick. Carol, Nancy and Helen rushed
past them, waded far into the water, dived under, and bobbing up again
struck out in a swimming race.
“Forward march!” cried the queen of the Silver Sword. Wading boldly out,
with Frances after her, down she dipped, over head and shoulders, and
rose laughing and gasping from the shock. “Whew! It takes your breath
away, but it’s fine! Cece, you’re a splendid swimmer!” she called, as
Cecily shot by her through the water. “Teach me, will you?”
“All right,” said Cecily, stopping her swim. “Throw yourself out _this_
way, and go _so_! I’ll hold your chin up.” She gave an object lesson in
the jump and the strokes, and Jean, nothing daunted, tried again and
again, thrashing the water furiously, while Betty splashed and shivered,
and Frances, almost as amphibious as Cecily, floated peacefully till she
collided with Roderick Dhu.
“Come out now!” called Miss Hamersley.
“But we’ve only been in a minute!” the bathers complained.
“You’ve been in quite long enough for the first time. You may take a
longer dip to-morrow,” was the reply.
Douglas arrived soon after breakfast to begin his first day’s work as
camp boatman. Jean ran to meet him. “Did you find out what Tony Harrel
was doing around here last night?” she asked.
“No,” answered Douglas. “He said it was none of my business. He was as
mad as a hornet about something or other.”
“I know why he was mad,” said Jean. “He wanted to be our boatman
himself. He spoke to Cecily about it yesterday.”
“Whe-ew!” whistled Douglas. “I didn’t know I was cutting him out! I
don’t wonder he’s grouchy!”
“You _didn’t_ cut him out at all,” said Jean. “Mrs. Brook says she
wouldn’t have had him for anything.”
“Maybe he was snooping around to see how badly I was doing my work,”
said Douglas. “He’s a queer chap. He has a habit of sneaking along
softly,—makes me think of a catamount.”
“That must be the Indian in him!” said Jean. “Cecily told me he had
Indian blood.”
“He looks Indianish,” said Douglas. “It must be his instinct to follow
the warpath that makes him sneak like that! Aren’t you sorry you haven’t
got an Algonquin chief for your boatman?”
“No, I’m not! I’m afraid he’d tomahawk us some day!” said Jean.
“_You_ got me the place: I won’t forget that in a hurry,” said Douglas
gratefully. “Let me teach you to paddle, this morning, will you?”
“Let you! I should think I would!” cried Jean: “I’m wild to learn! I’ll
run up and ask Miss Hamersley.”
“Yes, indeed!” was Miss Hamersley’s reply, “if you’ll be _very_ careful,
and be sure to be back in half an hour. You know Mrs. Brook has ordered
the launch from the Inn to take us the round trip of the lake this
morning. It is to be here at half-past nine. We must not keep it
waiting.”
“Oh, let me go too!” cried Frances, jumping down from her perch on the
veranda railing. “I haven’t been in a canoe yet,—only a stupid old
rowboat!”
“No, Frances, three are too many for the canoe while Jean is learning to
paddle,” said Miss Hamersley. “You may come in the boat with me, if you
would like to. I was going to take somebody out, myself.”
Frances looked sulky as she turned away with Jean. “Miss Hamersley’s an
old crank!” she grumbled, when out of the teacher’s hearing. “I think
it’s mean! I haven’t been in a canoe once, and this is your second
time!”
“It’s too bad, Frisk,” said Jean. “Never mind; I’ll just take a short
lesson, and then Douglas will have time to take you.”
“Oh, yes, I know what your short time means!” returned Frances
petulantly. “The launch’ll be here by the time you get back! I don’t
believe I’ll have a chance to go in a canoe for a week,—there’s such a
crowd of us! I don’t care—I think it’s mean! I’m just crazy to learn how
to paddle.” She walked away, preferring to stay self-marooned on shore
than to compromise with the despised rowboat and Miss Hamersley.
“Oh, bother! I suppose I’ll have to ask Douglas to give me only half the
time, and then take _her_. It won’t be any kind of a lesson,—just
fifteen minutes!” Jean said to herself, as she went down to the
boat-house. Douglas was waiting for her at the landing, with a canoe.
“That’s a mighty pretty pin you have on,” said he as she joined him. “A
sword and a shield, isn’t it? Is it a class pin?”
“No, it’s the badge of our society. All the girls of my class belong to
the Order of the Silver Sword,” Jean answered.
“All aboard!” said Douglas, holding out his hand to help her. “You sit
there in the bow.” But Jean’s fingers were on her badge, and she held
back.
“Douglas, I wish you’d take Frances instead of me, this time,” she said.
“I don’t want to be selfish. I was in the canoe yesterday, and she
hasn’t been at all. Won’t you please give her a lesson now, and I’ll
wait till to-morrow?”
“Oh, please come! I want to teach _you_,” begged Douglas. “Yesterday
doesn’t count. We start in to-day, and you have the first turn.”
“No, Douglas, please! You know I’d love to, but I want you to take her.
She wants to go ever so much, and I can wait perfectly well.”
“So can she. Come along. You said you would.”
“I know I did, but I want her to go first. Please take her this time.”
Douglas looked at the earnest, resolute face, and a smile broke over his
own. “All right!” he answered. “I’ll take her, but you stay around the
dock. I’ll give her a lesson first, and then I’ll come back for
you—that’s only square! There’s plenty of time for both. It won’t take
_you_ long to learn.”
“Oh, thank you, Douglas, ever so much! I’ll wait right here for you.”
Light-hearted, Jean ran to call Frances, who was roaming about with a
glum face.
“Frisk! Douglas is going to take you out first and give you a lesson,
and then he’s coming back for me,” said Jean. “He says there’s plenty of
time for both of us.”
The sulky face was bright in a twinkling. “Don’t you really mind if I go
first? Honor bright?” asked Frances.
“No. You go first!”
“You’re a peach!” Frances tossed back a kiss as she flew down to the
canoe. Jean followed her to the water’s edge, and waited there, watching
the lesson.
“Oh, Giraffe, it’s simply grand!” cried Frances, as they came in to
shore.
“There’s ten minutes for you, now,” said Douglas, when the second pupil
embarked. It was a short lesson, for the launch was already in sight,
but it was a successful one.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it! That’s first rate!” said Douglas, as
she toiled away at the paddle. And he called to Cecily, as they passed
her canoe, “Miss Jean’s going to beat everybody on the lake, pretty
soon!”
“Douglas,” said his pupil, “please don’t call me _Miss_ Jean. I don’t
like to be called ‘Miss.’ It makes me feel queer. I’m only a little
girl, if I _am_ tall! Please say _Jean_.”
“That isn’t right for the man-of-all-work, is it?”
“I don’t care if you _are_ the man-of-all-work,—you’re a gentleman!” she
answered. “You must say _Jean_!” And Douglas laughed and said, “All
right, Jean!”
That afternoon the first swimming lesson took place, Miss Hamersley and
a few girls who were expert swimmers teaching the “freshies,” as they
dubbed those who had not yet learned to be aquatic. Before many days
were over one would hardly have recognized the pale Jean of Hazelhurst
Hall in the brown and rosy head pupil of Carol’s swimming class. A dip
in the lake before breakfast; later on, boating and swimming; a tramp
every other day, and at least twice a week a picnic, in which Camp
Hurricane usually joined,—that was the rule at Huairarwee.
“I’m going to have my girls taught how to be capsized without drowning,”
said Miss Hamersley, one day. “Mrs. Brook has arranged for Douglas and
Jack to take you out in canoes and show you how to go overboard. They
will take care that you are within your depth, of course.”
So at the close of the swimming, Douglas and Jack in their bathing suits
gave an object lesson with Cecily. They took her far out in a canoe, for
she was a mermaid well used to exploring the green depths of the lake.
Suddenly Douglas stepped upon the gunwale. The canoe went over
instantly, and all three vanished under the waves. The water was stirred
as if giant fishes were disporting themselves, but no heads reappeared.
“Oh, dear! They’re not drowning, are they?” wailed Betty. But just then
Cecily’s head popped up about a rod from where she had gone down. Then
Jack, then Douglas looked out of the water, an amazing distance farther
out. They swam back, however, and recovering the floating bowls which
they had taken with them for bailing, they quickly emptied their craft;
then climbed in over the bow and stern, and paddled back to shore.
“Did we scare you?” said Cecily. “We had a little excursion under
water!”
“Who wants to be spilled now?” asked Jack.
“_I_ don’t!” said Betty.
“I _do_!” cried Jean.
“I’ll let Giraffe go first. It’ll take deep water to drown _her_!” said
the Mouse magnanimously.
Douglas paddled Jean out, while Jack launched another canoe. “Now, when
you feel yourself going,” said he, “just keep your mouth shut and let
yourself go easy, and then strike out and swim.”
Jean shut her mouth and watched his mischievous face intently. The canoe
kept giving disconcerting wobbles, but it was just when the boy had
assumed a look of the utmost innocence that the upset came. Jean let
herself go, and go she did with a mighty splash. Striking out boldly,
she swam till she found herself panting heavily, then let her feet touch
bottom and stood up, head and shoulders out of water.
“Good work!” said Douglas. “No use trying to drown _you_!”
“It’s as easy as going to sleep!” Jean declared.
Douglas gave her a lesson in bailing out while supporting herself in the
water; and then one in reëmbarking, which she found far more difficult,
though after tipping the canoe over several times, she scrambled in
successfully at last.
“Now let’s get Frances, and I’ll swamp you both together,” said Douglas.
The Mouse was emboldened to take her turn, and giggled and squealed as
the boy tipped the canoe from side to side to make it fill.
“Oh, Douglas! Let’s act Jean saving the kingfisher’s life!” Frances
proposed.
“All right!” And with his paddle for a rifle Douglas took aim at Jean.
“Don’t shoot that Giraffe!” shrieked Frances, and lurching forward the
frolicksome maid of honor flung her arms wildly around her queen. The
canoe, already half full, went over like a flash.
“What was it, anyway,—a whale or a tidal wave?” Douglas inquired as they
righted themselves in the water.
“It was nothing but a bad little Mouse, and I’m going to drown her!”
said Jean. She made a pounce for Frances.
“Shoo! Get away! I tried to save your life, when I saw all was lost! You
went down clasped in my arms, Giraffe!” said Frances with reproachful
tenderness, as she protected herself behind Douglas.
“Well, you’ll go down clasped in _my_ arms, this time!” Jean retorted.
She caught Frances at last and ducked her well.
By ones and twos the candidates were initiated; and the lesson was
repeated from time to time, until every girl in camp might have been
trusted to show presence of mind even should she be upset in the middle
of the lake.