The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks Part 11

Nyoda went to the top of the ladder and called: "Sahwah, are you down there?" No answer. All was dark and silent below. When it was evident that Sahwah was not in the barn, Nyoda roused all the sleepers unceremoniously.

"What's the matter? What's happened?" they all cried sleepily. There was a great uproar when Sahwah's disappearance became known. "Where could she have gone without her clothes?" they all asked.

"Do you think she was dragged from her bed, Nyoda?" asked Hinpoha anxiously, filled with the wildest fears.

"No, I don't," answered Nyoda promptly, suddenly remembering certain facts in Sahwah's history. "I think she's walking in her sleep again. She always does when she gets excited. She's probably gotten out of the barn and is wandering around somewhere and we must find her and bring her in without delay. This is altogether too cold a night to be promenading without a coat on." She had dressed herself fully while she was talking and the others followed suit with all speed.

The barn door was carefully closed, but the big inside bolt was unfastened and they knew by that that Sahwah was outside somewhere. The wind had swept the snow off the drive and there was not a footprint to be seen. They spent some time looking all around the barn and up on the roof and then concluded that she must have gone down the drive, because, if she had gone anywhere else, there would be footprints. The snow in the road had been so packed down by pa.s.sing vehicles that a person walking would leave no trace.

"Where can she be?" exclaimed Nyoda anxiously after a fruitless search of some ten minutes.

"Do you think she could have climbed a tree?" asked Hinpoha.

"And be roosting on a branch?" asked Katherine, and they all had to laugh in spite of their concern.

"Well, you never can tell what Sahwah will do next," returned Hinpoha, "especially in her sleep. You haven't known her as long as we have. Once in camp she climbed to the top of the diving tower and jumped off. So I guess climbing a tree wouldn't be impossible for her."

"Hark, girls," said Nyoda, bending her head in a listening att.i.tude.

"Don't you hear music?" The others listened, but could hear nothing.

"When that breath of wind came in this direction I thought I heard it,"

said Nyoda. "There it is, again." This time they all heard it, faint and far, a soft strain of music, but what kind of music or whence it came they could not make out.

"It came with the wind," said Nyoda, "so we must walk against the wind and see if we can find it." Heading into the wind they walked up the road. They shivered as they walked and the snow crunched under their feet. The very moonlight seemed cold as it touched them and the stars glistened like splintered icicles. Verily, it was a cold night to be sleepwalking. The music began to sound more clearly now, and at a turn in the road they stopped still in amazement at the sight before their eyes.

There in the road just ahead of them ambled Sandhelo, and by his side walked Sahwah, dressed in her troubadour costume, the red cloak flying out in the breeze. She held her mouth organ to her lips, and the drawing of her breath in and out of it was producing the strains of music which the girls had followed. As they suspected, she was sound asleep. They hurried forward to waken Sahwah, and she turned around and faced them.

Her eyes were wide open in the moonlight. A moment she looked at them and then turned suddenly and swung herself onto Sandhelo's back. At her touch on his bridle Sandhelo started and then began running down the road as fast as he could. Sahwah woke up, gave one shriek of fright, and then mechanically dug her knees into his sides and hung on. Sandhelo did not have his regular harness on, only his bridle, and she was riding bareback in this strange adventure. The girls pursued as fast as they could, shouting at the top of their voices, but of course they were soon left behind. Far ahead of them in the moonlit road they saw Sandhelo stop suddenly and slide his rider over his head into a snowdrift and then sit down on his haunches beside her like a dog. Sahwah had emerged from her drift and was shaking the snow off when the others came up. "What's the matter?" she asked in a bewildered tone. "How did I get out here?"

"Home first, explanations afterward," said Nyoda, wrapping her in the bear rug she had brought with her. And they made Sahwah run every step of the way back to the Lodge, and swallow quarts of hot lemonade before they would tell her a single thing.

Migwan insisted on tying Sahwah's foot to the post of Nyoda's bed for the rest of the night to insure her being there in the morning. They had just gotten quieted down when the ropes of Katherine's hammock broke and down she came with a resounding crash.

Morning found them heavy-eyed and full of yawns, but to all inquirers they stoutly maintained that the select sleeping party had been the best ever.

CHAPTER IX THE CANDLE IN THE WINDOW

"What's all this about singing carols?" asked Migwan. "Everywhere I go the talk is all of carols, carols, carols. And the air is full of 'G.o.d Rest You, Merry Gentlemen,' and similar melodies."

"It's the Music Club League," explained Gladys. "They have revived the old custom of going through the streets on Christmas Eve with lanterns and singing carols, and are training the boys and girls all over the city to sing them. People who are interested in the work of the Music Club League and wish to give a gift of money for its support will put a candle in their windows and we will stop outside and sing carols for them. Isn't it a pretty idea?"

"Beautiful," said Migwan. "I wish I might have attended the rehearsals so I could go around with you."

"We'll teach you the carols," said Gladys eagerly, "and I'll explain to Miss Jones and I know she'll let you be in our group. We've been given one of the best districts in the city-Garfield Avenue, from the Cathedral to the Park, where all the rich people live-and we expect to bring in more money than any other group. There was great rivalry among the groups for that district, and Miss Jones tested and tested us to see which sang the best. I nearly pa.s.sed away from surprise when she decided in favor of our group. Oh, won't it be glorious, though, stopping before all those fine houses?" and Gladys and Hinpoha, unable to keep still any longer, got up and began to dance.

"That isn't the best part of it, though," said Sahwah. "All the carolers are invited to the Music League's clubhouse after the singing is over for an oyster supper and a frolic. And the troupe of midgets that are playing in the Mansfield Theater this week are coming and will give a real Punch and Judy show. Hurrah for the Music Club League! Hurrah for carols!

Hurrah for Christmas!"

"I smell something burning," said Gladys, sniffing the air suspiciously.

"It's probably something that has been spilled on the stove," said Katherine serenely. They were all up at Katherine's house.

"Here are the carols we are going to sing," said Gladys, pulling Migwan toward the piano. "We might as well begin at once."

"Do you really think Miss Jones will let me do it?" asked Migwan rather doubtfully.

"I'm sure she will," said Gladys, "if we all--Katherine, there _is_ something burning; it smells like cloth." And she rushed off unceremoniously to investigate. The kitchen was full of smoke when she reached it, proceeding from the ironing board, where Katherine had left the electric iron standing without being turned off.

"You ought to have a leather medal, Katherine," scolded Hinpoha, switching off the current and setting the smoking board outside the back door, while Katherine stood idly by with such a look of pained surprise on her face that the others went into gales of laughter.

"I can't get used to these self-starting, big city flat-irons, nohow,"

she drawled mildly in self-defense. "Back where I come from the irons cool off when you leave them by themselves; here they start heatin' up."

Katherine always left off her g's when she spoke earnestly.

"Katherine, you're hopeless," said Hinpoha with a sigh, and then she added affectionately, "that's why we love you so."

"There's Slim outside with his big bob-sled," said Sahwah, looking out of the window. "He promised to take us all coasting down College Hill this afternoon. Come on." And they trooped out.

Nyoda took a few round trips on the bob with the girls, and then, having other things to do, walked home by herself through the early winter twilight. A few blocks from her home she saw Veronica walking along just ahead of her. By her side walked a young man whom Nyoda recognized as Alex Tobin, one of the violins in the Temple Theater Orchestra. He was talking animatedly and earnestly to her, his white teeth showing often in a smile beneath his small black moustache. Veronica was listening eagerly with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. As Nyoda drew near she heard Veronica say: "Oh, a chance to study with him would be the greatest happiness of my life, but uncle would never allow it. Never!"

And Alex Tobin answered: "Does it have to depend upon your uncle's permission? You have money in your own right, have you not?"

And then Veronica noticed that Nyoda was behind her and turned and spoke and Alex Tobin took his departure down the cross street. Nyoda looked after him thoughtfully. She was not fond of Alex Tobin, although she knew him only very slightly. He was a young Pole, and quite handsome, but there was something about his eyes that made a keen observer dislike him.

"I was at the rehearsal of the Symphony Orchestra this afternoon," said Veronica, with more animation than Nyoda had ever seen her display. "You know uncle plays this year and he lets me go along and listen, that I may benefit from the director's criticisms."

"Does Mr. Tobin play in the Symphony Orchestra, too?" asked Nyoda idly.

"Yes," answered Veronica. "He's a wonderful player; and so kind to me. He takes such an interest in my playing. He says I will play at concerts in time."

"I don't doubt it in the least," said Nyoda heartily. "But you mustn't study music to the exclusion of everything else. You are growing quite thin. You must stay out of doors more and romp with the girls. You are missing all the coasting and skating. 'Hold on to Health,' you know."

"Yes, of course," murmured Veronica absently, and fell silent, as if she were day-dreaming.

"The Midgets are going to give Punch and Judy dolls to the carol singers as souvenirs of the occasion," announced Sahwah, as the Winnebagos a.s.sembled before starting out for the singing on Christmas Eve. "Won't they be jolly to put up in our rooms?"

"And did you know that Jeffry, the famous bird imitator, was going to be there and give some of his wonderful bird calls?" asked Gladys. "Migwan, you're in luck, being home this week to take in all the good things."

"The frolic afterwards is going to be as much fun as the carol singing,"

said Hinpoha. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. And the group that brings in the most money is going to get a prize," she added, "and have its picture in the Sunday paper. Oh, I do hope we'll get the most! We must sing our very best."

"Oh, what a glorious night!" they all cried, as they pa.s.sed out into the sparkling snow.

"Oh, but I'm glad I'm a carol singer," said Katherine, and slipped and sat down on her lantern in her enthusiasm.

"Have you time to walk over to Division Street with me before we go to Mrs. Salisbury's?" asked Gladys, as they went down the street. Mrs.

Salisbury was the lady who had gathered together the band of carolers to which the Winnebagos belonged, and they were all to meet at her house.