The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit Part 22

"I don't know," replied Hinpoha, noticing for the first time that she was no longer in the tent. "She was here a minute ago."

"She'd _better_ run and hide," sputtered Agony, still vindictive in her wounded pride.

Sahwah stared at Agony thoughtfully and her sympathy went out to Oh-Pshaw, having to bear the whole brunt of their disaster, her whole day spoiled for her. Other features of the celebration were going on in Oakwood; the pageant of the Early Founders was beginning. "Come on out and see what's going on," said Sahwah, who hated to miss anything, even for the melancholy pleasure of crying over spilt milk.

So they drifted back into the celebration and their interest in the proceedings soon began to dull the sharpness of their disappointment.

Oh-Pshaw was nowhere to be seen, however, and by-and-by Sahwah slipped away from the others and went in search of her. She guessed that Oh-Pshaw might have gone home, to get away from the girls, and went to the house, but it was closed and locked, and there was no sign of Oh-Pshaw in the garden anywhere. Then Sahwah remembered that Oh-Pshaw had a favorite nook out in the woods where she went when she wanted to be alone, a wide-spreading, low-boughed chestnut tree in a dense, shady grove, away from the singing brook with its terrifying gurgle; into the branches she climbed and sat as in a great wide armchair, secure from interruption. She had taken Sahwah with her once. Of course that was where she would go.

Sahwah hesitated a moment. Over on Main Street the fun was going at full blast; it was just about time for the balloon to go up. If she went out to look for Oh-Pshaw she would miss it. After all, Oh-Pshaw might not have gone to the woods; she might be in the crowd somewhere, watching the performance where the girls couldn't see her. But Sahwah knew Oh-Pshaw, and knew that she considered herself disgraced and that she would have no heart to look at the rest of the performance. She had a vision of Oh-Pshaw sitting disconsolate out in the woods, hiding away from the festivities, and that vision refused to go away.

"I'll go and _see_, anyway," Sahwah decided resolutely, "and if she _is_ there I'll make her come back with me, and if she _isn't,_ there's no harm done by going. I've seen balloons before, and I'll see them again."

Turning her back on the festive town she took the path to the woods, and hurried along with light, swift footsteps, humming as she went. Just inside the woods she pounced on something in the path with a little exclamation of triumph. It was a red, white and blue arm band, undoubtedly Oh-Pshaw's. She _had_ come to the woods after all. Sahwah sped on to the big chestnut tree, finding it without difficulty, although she had only been there once. Sure enough, there was Oh-Pshaw, all curled up in the embrace of the wide branches, her face in her arms, the picture of abandoned woe. Sahwah swung up beside her and called her gently by name. Oh-Pshaw raised her head with a start and looked surprised when she saw who it was.

"h.e.l.lo," she responded forlornly to Sahwah's greeting.

"Don't take it so to heart," said Sahwah cheerfully. "It wasn't as bad as you think."

"The girls will never speak to me again," said Oh-Pshaw dismally, "and you can't blame them, either."

"Oh, come, they will, too," said Sahwah. "They're all over it already and out enjoying the rest of the show. Come on back. You wouldn't want to miss the sham battle for anything."

Oh-Pshaw's woebegone look began to fade from her face and her heart was warmed clear to the bottom at the thought of Sahwah's leaving the celebration and coming all the way out here to find her. The world took on a cheerful hue again; she sat up and dried her eyes and began to smooth out her crumpled uniform. Sahwah jumped lightly from the tree and Oh-Pshaw followed her, but Oh-Pshaw's foot had gone to sleep from sitting on it so long and she jumped stiffly and came down on a jagged stump, skinning her shin from ankle to knee and giving the knee itself a bad b.u.mp.

"_Anything_ broken?" asked Sahwah, bending solicitously over the injured member and inspecting the damage.

"I guess not," replied Oh-Pshaw, wincing with the pain, "though it hurts like fury. I guess it's just skinned."

Sahwah bound up the two places that were bleeding the most with her handkerchief and Oh-Pshaw's and was gently replacing the stocking when her ears caught a sound--a noise like the humming of a giant bee.

"What's that noise?" asked Oh-Pshaw.

"It's an aeroplane," said Sahwah. "It must be _the_ aeroplane that's coming over from Philadelphia to take part in the sham battle. The one has been in Oakwood all day, but the other hadn't arrived yet when I started out to look for you. It's coming in this direction, over the woods. Come on, let's run to the open s.p.a.ce by the Devil's Punch Bowl and see if he flies over there." Sahwah seized Oh-Pshaw by the hand and started away on a run, and Oh-Pshaw followed as best she could for the pain in her knee. The humming noise grew louder and louder as they ran, and then suddenly it stopped altogether.

"Where is he, is he gone?" asked Oh-Pshaw in disappointment.

"I can't imagine," replied Sahwah, looking up in bewilderment when they came out beside the Punch Bowl. "No, there he is," she cried, as the machine suddenly shot into sight directly above them. "Oh-Pshaw!" she screamed, "it's coming down!"

Rooted to the spot, they watched it, as nose downward the machine came rushing toward them, struck against the rock cliffs high above them and dropped with a terrific splash into the Devil's Punch Bowl.

CHAPTER XVIII

OUT OF A CLEAR SKY

It happened so quickly that the two girls had no time to jump back out of the way; they were caught in the deluge of water that shot out from the Punch Bowl on every side. When they got their eyes open again the luckless flying machine lay before them in the water, a ma.s.s of wreckage. Oh-Pshaw gave a little m.u.f.fled shriek and sat down on a log, hiding her face in her hands. Sahwah shook her roughly by the shoulder.

"_Oh-Pshaw!_ The man's under the machine, in the water!"

Oh-Pshaw shuddered and did not look up.

"_Oh-Pshaw! Oh-Pshaw!_ He'll drown!"

Oh-Pshaw looked up, still shuddering, and gazed in fascinated horror at the thing in front of her. "Isn't he--dead?" she asked in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"No, he isn't, he's _struggling_. Don't you see the water moving? I'm going out and help him," Sahwah exclaimed with sudden resolution.

She waded swiftly out into the water until it became too deep for her to stand and then swam out to the wrecked machine, in the clutches of which the unfortunate flyer was held fast. As she reached it, the man's head came up above the surface for a moment and then immediately disappeared again. Sahwah held on to the machine with one hand and with the other reached down and brought his head up out of the water again.

His eyes were closed and he was quite limp. He had fainted. Try as she might she could not free him from the wreck of the machine entirely; he was securely pinioned. All she could do was hold his head out of the water.

"Run! Get help!" she called out sharply to Oh-Pshaw. "I can't get him out." Oh-Pshaw sprang up and hobbled off as fast as she could go.

Sahwah pulled herself up on top of the machine, which was partly above the surface of the water, and sat there in a tolerably secure position holding the unconscious man up. A red stream flowing from the side of his head began to spread in the water and lengthen out in the flowing cataract of the Punch Bowl. It gave Sahwah the shivers, that ever lengthening red stream; she averted her eyes and held on grimly, trying to calculate how long it would take Oh-Pshaw to bring help. Then a new danger arose. The wrecked machine began to tilt and settle and finally with a sickening lurch went down under Sahwah, dragging her and her unconscious burden into the depths of the Devil's Punch Bowl. When she came up and struck out for the bank she found she was still clutching the collar of the unconscious man, for by some lucky chance the tipping of the machine had released him. She brought him to sh.o.r.e and worked over him to expel the water from his lungs and soon was relieved to see that he was breathing again. She took off the great goggles that covered half his face and opened the coat that was so tightly b.u.t.toned around his neck, which it seemed must be choking him. There was something hauntingly familiar about the face; it came over Sahwah that she had seen it before, where, she could not remember. It was a young face; the aviator looked little more than a boy.

Although breathing, the man remained unconscious, and Sahwah thought about Sherry and his injury and wondered if this man's skull were fractured. She rolled the collar still farther back from his throat to give him more air. Then she noticed a slender gold chain around his neck, and pulling at it brought up a gold locket. It was a girl's locket, heart-shaped, with a monogram engraved on the outside.

Impulsively Sahwah opened it. Then she uttered an exclamation of surprise and gazed in round-eyed wonder at the picture inside. It was her own picture! The little snapshot she had given Hinpoha to wear in _her_ locket! Why, it _was_ Hinpoha's locket! There were her initials, D.M.B., entwined in Old English letters on the outside. It was the locket Hinpoha had lost on the train coming to Nyoda's. How came it in the possession of this strange aviator? It was a puzzle Sahwah could not solve. She was still lost in wonder over it when she heard footsteps and looked around to see Oh-Pshaw appear between the trees, limping painfully and weeping.

"I couldn't make it," sobbed Oh-Pshaw. "My knee--I don't know what's the matter with it, I can't walk on it, it keeps doubling up under me. I fell down on it every other step and each time it hurt worse. I only got a little way and then I knew it would take me hours to get back to town, so I came back to tell you. H-how did you get the m-man loose and up on sh.o.r.e?"

Sahwah explained briefly.

"You run and get help, I'll stay here with him," said Oh-Pshaw, looking fearfully around her at the shadows which were lengthening in the gully.

There were no lingering sunsets in the Devil's Punch Bowl; night fell swiftly as the dropping of a curtain when the sun got behind the great cliff on the western side. Little did Sahwah dream what an ordeal Oh-Pshaw was committing herself to when she bravely turned around and returned to the Devil's Punch Bowl when she realized that her slow progress was likely to endanger the life of the injured man. To sit beside the Devil's Punch Bowl in the dark, and listen to the terrible gurgling of the water through the basin! The blood curdled in her veins at the mere thought of it, and yet she choked back her terror with a stern hand and said no word as Sahwah rose from beside the unconscious man, called "All right!" over her shoulder and disappeared between the trees like an arrow shot from a bow.

Inside of five minutes after Sahwah left it was dark as midnight in the Punch Bowl, dark with an inky blackness that clutched at Oh-Pshaw as with hands while the hideous gurgling filled her ears and turned her blood to water. She was going to faint, she knew it; the strength went out of her limbs; icy drops gathered on her forehead. Then she remembered. She _dared_ not faint. She must keep her hand pressed tightly over the wound in the man's head to keep the blood from flowing.

Sahwah had said so. Sahwah said he would bleed to death if she did not.

Sahwah had just started to do it, when she had come back and reported her failure to bring help. Now she had to do it. She pressed her hands tightly over the wound as Sahwah had showed her, and tried to close her ears to the gurgling. But the old terror had her by the throat, suffocating her, paralyzing her hands. They dropped uselessly at her sides; she crouched limp and panting and nerveless beside the helpless man. Then, for the first time in her life Oh-Pshaw began to fight the fear. She forced her clammy hands back over the wound, she cast desperately around for something to think about beside the murmuring horror at her feet. She began to sing, in a scarcely audible voice, and through chattering teeth:

"L-lay m-me to sl-leep in sh-sheltering flame, O M-master of the Hidden F-fire!

W-w-ash pure my heart, and c-cleanse f-for me M-my Soul's D-desire!"

Over and over she sang it, through chattering teeth, keeping in her mind the picture of a warm, glowing fire and herself sitting beside it, cozy and comfortable, and finally the picture became so real that she forgot about the gurgling water and gave herself up to pleasant fire dreams.

Oh-Pshaw herself was master, not of the Hidden Fire, but of the Hidden Fear! She was still sitting beside her imaginary fire when footsteps startled her and in another minute the place was ablaze with searchlights and swarming over with people.

CHAPTER XIX

KAISER BILL MIXES IN

"Isn't it just too wonderful for anything?" said Hinpoha in an awed tone. Then she burst out triumphantly, "I _told_ her there was a light-haired man coming into her life--and he did! Did you ever _hear_ of anything so romantic as this, anyway? He said she was a dream of his come to life! When he first saw her in the train that day he thought she wasn't _real_! And then finding my locket on the floor that way and seeing her picture in it and thinking it was _her_ locket, and wearing it all this time! I never _heard_ of anything so wonderful. It's better than anything I ever read in a book. Such a nice-sounding name he has, too--Robert Allison; it's so--unanimous."

"Don't you mean 'euphonious'?" asked Migwan with a smile.

"Well, 'euphonious,' then," amended Hinpoha. Wrapped up as she was in this marvel of romance that had happened in the placid, everyday lives of the Winnebagos, she was not bothering about any carping correctness of words. She sat at the foot of Oh-Pshaw's bed, where Oh-Pshaw lay with her knee propped up on a pillow, and went over the details of Sahwah's case for the twentieth time with Agony and Migwan and Gladys, all of them foregathered in Oh-Pshaw's room to keep her company.