The Girls of Central High in Camp Part 22

Occasionally one of them took a squint at the camp across the lake through a pair of gla.s.ses. But nothing disturbed _that_ spot. Their tents were erected in a clearing at the edge of the water, and they knew there was not a human habitation on that side of the lake within five miles.

Elberon Crossing was at the head of Rocky River, but a good half mile from the water and landing, where a "tote-road" went through the Big Woods to the lumber camps farther west.

The _d.u.c.h.ess_ was in sight of the girls' camp all the way from the landing on the south side of the river. On her return the party watched her approach, which was soon after the noonday meal.

"h.e.l.lo!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Chet, suddenly grabbing up the gla.s.ses. "They have a pa.s.senger."

"Who have?" queried Billy Long.

"Lance and Reddy. Crickey! who have we here?" and then Chet began to laugh uproariously.

He tossed the gla.s.ses to Short and Long. The latter looked at the motorboat for a moment, and then began to laugh, too. Some of the girls became interested, and they ran for their gla.s.ses.

There was a third moving figure in the boat. It sat up forward and seemed to be gazing on the island eagerly. The girls began to giggle as well as Short and Long.

"Hush!" begged Laura. "Don't say a word."

Purt and Lil were sitting together in the shade, and paid no attention to what was going on. Almost everybody on the island but themselves realized the ident.i.ty of the third figure in the _d.u.c.h.ess_ before the boat neared the beach.

Suddenly Purt gasped, and sat up straighter. He glanced all about and a sort of hunted expression came into his face.

"What's the matter, Mr. Sweet?" demanded Lil, in surprise.

"I--I thought I heard--Yes! I knew I could not be mistaken," said Purt, in horror.

"What _is_ the matter?" demanded his companion, with some tartness.

She did not like mysteries.

"I--I heard a dog bark," stammered Purt.

"Well! what if you did?"

"But on this--this island. Who--who could have brought the howwid cweature here?"

"Not _that_ dog, Purt!" gasped Lil, suddenly remembering.

There was a hail from the crew of the _d.u.c.h.ess_. Again the sharp bark of a dog sounded.

Purt leaped to his feet. He glared down upon the approaching motorboat. Then he glanced around helplessly, as though tempted to run.

The Barnacle was fixed on his tail in the bow of the approaching boat, barking for all he was worth!

"Hi, Purt!" yelled Lance, standing up in the c.o.c.kpit of the _d.u.c.h.ess_ and bawling the news. "Here's your canine friend!"

Purt fairly groaned. Then he got mad and forgetting the girls were present, he blackguarded the jokers in the launch wrathfully.

"Oh, hush-aby! hush-aby, sonny!" begged Bobby. "You wouldn't do all that to Lance and poor little Reddy--would you really?"

"I'll get square with them!" stammered the dude, "and I'll kill that dog."

"Don't you bite him," warned Short and Long, "for if you do right now he will sure have the hydrophobia. Take it easy, Purt--cool and easy."

But the dude could not. The very sight of that laughing, ragged-coated dog made his blood boil. He hunted a club with which to meet the brute when he landed.

But Lance explained about the Barnacle before the _d.u.c.h.ess_ came close enough for them to land.

"Why, there he was ready to meet us at the Elberon store," laughed Lance. "I found out that everybody along the Big Woods trails knows the mongrel. He had come up yesterday with a tote-team which was going into the woods.

"He welcomed Reddy and me as if we were his long-lost brothers. But it's Purt he wants to see--believe me!"

"I'll fix him!" threatened the dude, from the sh.o.r.e, and waving a club.

"Hold on!" begged Lance. "I have a better idea than that. I didn't bring the Barnacle along to be slaughtered to make a Sweet holiday--no, sir! What do you think about leaving him at the island here with the girls, Chet?"

"Great! he'll guard the camp," declared Laura's brother. "n.o.body else will come around to steal grub."

"That's a good idee, Mister," said Liz, from the cook-tent. "The dog is wuth more than any boy to watch for us."

"Hear that, will you?" demanded Chet. "You girls have one fine suffragette in this Lonesome Liz, as Billy calls her."

"She's ripe for battle, when it comes to pitting the ladies against the mere male," laughed Laura. "We have found _that_ out."

Against Purt's objections the Barnacle was allowed to come ash.o.r.e. And the poor beast _did_ seem so delighted to be among them again that they had not the heart to treat him badly. At least, n.o.body hated him save Lily and Purt.

Barnacle was fed hugely by Liz Bean, and had to lie down after it and sleep. So he did not disturb Purt during the afternoon.

The girls had agreed to get supper all by themselves. Liz and Mrs.

Morse were to have nothing to do with it.

Bobby and Laura made cake. There were chickens to roast--two pairs of them--that Lance had thoughtfully bought of a woman at the Crossing.

These were handed over to the tender mercies of Jess and Nell.

Now, Jess was a good cook; she did most of the housework at the Morse cottage. But when they had had chicken, the butcher always cleaned the creature before sending it home.

"My goodness!" sniffed Nell. "What do you know about taking a chicken apart?"

"Not--not much, I am afraid," admitted Jess, "And here are four of them! Well, we ought to learn a good deal about it by the time we have butchered all four."

"Ugh! I don't want to cut into them. And some of their insides are the delicacies of the chicken, while other parts are no good. Do you know one from the other, Jess?"

"I reckon I know the giblets--if I can once get at them," said Jess.

"Mother and I took our sewing machine to pieces once, and fixed it,"

Nellie said, "and that was pretty complicated. But we had a book of instructions----"

"They don't issue a book of instructions with a roasting chicken,"

Jess chuckled. "It's up to us, I expect----"

Then she called Lance. They had to admit a boy _was_ good for something once in a while. Lance knew all about cleaning and drawing chickens, and he did _that_ part of the work very neatly and with dispatch.