The Motor Maids at Sunrise Camp Part 2

And in this thoroughly modern primeval hut there were plenty of inducements to be lazy. Grouped about the stone chimney of an immense open fire-place were numerous easy chairs, and ranged against the dim confines of the walls were quite half a dozen cots to be used by people who might prefer to sleep indoors, Mr. Campbell explained.

The heads of several deer with branching antlers looked down at them from the walls, and on the floor in front of the fire-place was stretched the skin of a great black bear.

"Papa, I think it's really beautiful," exclaimed Billie, rubbing her cheek against her father's shoulder.

"So do we all, Mr. Campbell," cried the other Motor Maids.

"I am delighted and relieved," he answered, rubbing his hands together with pleasure over their pleasure. "Better introduce Cousin Helen to her--er bedroom now, and wash up before supper," he added, winking and grinning behind that little lady's back.

Anybody would approve of the big room of the camp. It was indeed a splendid place, but how was Miss Campbell going to take to the dormitory? A flight of rustic steps at one end led to a gallery opening on this doubtful territory.

"Oh, how delightful," cried Billie, rushing through the door with a great show of enthusiasm. "I have always wanted to sleep in the open and never had a chance except that one night on the plains. Remember, Cousin Helen? And how you did enjoy it, too!"

"One night, yes, my dear, but this is for some sixty nights or more,"

answered Miss Campbell, surveying a row of cots placed at intervals along the porch. "I never slept in the room with anybody in my life before."

"But this is not sleeping in a room. This is sleeping in the world, under the great dome of heaven," exclaimed Billie, laughing uneasily.

"If you want privacy, you can draw a veil," remarked Elinor, pointing to denim curtains on poles between some of the beds.

"And be alone in the world, under the great dome of heaven? Never!"

cried Miss Campbell. "But do we dress out here in sight of the entire range of mountains? I should feel that each mountain had an eye turned on me."

"Really, cousin, you remind me of the old lady from Skye," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Billie:

"'There was an old lady from Skye Who was so exceedingly shy, When she undressed at night, She put out the light, For fear of the all-seeing eye.'"

Miss Campbell so far forgot her objections as to burst out laughing, and she was still further placated by finding at one end of the porch a good-sized locker room, and adjoining that a bathroom.

"The water comes from the top of the mountain," announced Billie. "It's just piped in and doesn't have to be pumped. Think of bathing in such clear pure water as that. Oh, I know camping like this will be perfect!"

"It may and it may not be," observed Miss Campbell, bathing her hands and face in some of the crystal water. "Good heavens, what's that?" she demanded, startled by the sound of a bugle in the twilight stillness.

The call was loud and clear, reverberating among the mountains and coming back to them in a softened, m.u.f.fled echo.

"That's Mr. Lupo blowing the supper horn," called Mr. Campbell from the sleeping porch below. Down they all filed and seated themselves anywhere around a long rustic table apparently loaded with food, for all the meal had been placed upon it regardless of ceremony, and people were expected to help themselves.

"Fall to, fall to, ladies," said Mr. Campbell, serving slices of broiled ham until the pile of plates in front of him was reduced to one.

"Let's introduce scientific management into this business," suggested Billie. "With one deft movement of the arm, I'll help each plate to creamed potatoes, pa.s.sing them along in order to Nancy, who can dish out the baked omelette. While we are doing that Mary can serve the b.u.t.ter and Elinor can pa.s.s around the biscuits. There is no labor wasted and the food is distributed in the quickest possible time."

"What shall I be doing?" asked Miss Campbell. "I don't see that I am being scientifically managed."

"Yes you are," answered Mr. Campbell with a mischievous glance at the pretty little lady. "You are being scientifically managed by not being allowed to do anything."

There was a chorus of drowsy, good-natured laughter. The leavening influence of food at a journey's end was already beginning to take effect. Presently Mr. Lupo came in with a tray of cups and saucers and a pot of steaming hot coffee, and Mrs. Lupo, silent and soft of foot, placed four tall wooden candlesticks on the table, the light from the tallow candles shedding a yellow glow on their faces.

"Excuse me," said Mary, rising, after the hungry company had cleared up everything before them, "I want to go to the end of the room and see what we look like. I feel as if we were making a picture somebody ought to see. We are," she called presently from the far end of the vast apartment. "You've no idea how picturesque you look around that dark wooden table with those candles and the blue water pitcher and the pewter coffee pot."

"And the empty omelette dish," called Billie.

"And only one biscuit left," added Elinor.

"I've no doubt Mr. Rembrandt would have painted us just so," said Mr.

Campbell.

"And called it 'The Guild of The Globe Trotters'," Miss Campbell was saying, when Mary gave a low exclamation of surprise. In order not to obstruct the beautiful view across the valley, the rustic porch had not been enclosed with screens, but the openings into the living room were screened, and, standing just outside the broad door, Mary saw a man peering into the room.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "I am afraid I frightened you. I was lost on the side of the mountain, and when I saw the light in the camp I thought I would stop and ask the way."

"Come in, won't you?" said Mr. Campbell hospitably. "Have you had your supper?"

"I am afraid not," answered the stranger with a short laugh.

"Mrs. Lupo, will you get this gentleman some supper?" called Mr.

Campbell, while Miss Campbell, almost lost in one of the big chairs, was wondering if this were the etiquette of campers, and if they would be expected to take in strangers after Duncan had departed.

"Sit down," went on the incorrigible Duncan. "We only arrived ourselves an hour ago, and we are hardly familiar with the house yet, but there is plenty of room. Won't you stop over night? My name is Campbell."

"My name is St. Clair," answered the stranger. "I live in a place called West Haven. Ever hear of it?"

"Percy St. Clair!" cried the girls and Miss Helen. "Where did you come from?"

"The scheme worked pretty well, eh, Percy?" laughed Mr. Campbell, after the young man, their old friend and playmate, had shaken hands all around and insisted on hugging Miss Campbell. "I thought I would keep you as a surprise. Where's the motor cycle?"

"It's outside. I walked it up the last climb."

"Did you have any trouble finding the way?"

"Considerable. That's why I'm so late. A fellow told me the wrong road, and I was lost for a while and had a foolish adventure besides."

"What was it? What was it?" they demanded.

Percy seated himself at the supper table, while Nancy poured out his coffee and Billie served him with ham and eggs.

"Well, I asked a man the way and he said, 'Are you a doctor?' I said, 'Not yet, but soon.' Then he showed me a road and told me there was a very sick woman in a house at the top, and would I call and see what could be done. You may imagine my feelings when I found that the road led straight to an old ruined hotel, and there wasn't a human being in it as far as I could see nor any sign of one. So I got on my cycle and went back down the mountain until I found a sign board that put me on the right track again. But it was queer, wasn't it, and rather uncanny, too."

It was a strange experience, and after supper they sat under the stars discussing it until bedtime, and came to the conclusion that Percy had met a crazy man.

Never had Miss Helen Campbell slept so well as she did that night on the sleeping porch. Toward morning there came a quiet life-giving rain that freshened the parched earth and brought out the pungency of the pine trees. Only Mary knew of the shower and of the soft wind that followed just before dawn, bearing with it the fragrance of the wet woods. Only Mary saw the miracle of the dawn; first the faint flush of pink; then a deep rosy blush; next, rays of orange and gold, and at last the sun bursting into view. It was Mary who softly let down the bamboo blinds to keep out the sunlight and who finally slipped back to bed and went to sleep with the songs of innumerable forest birds in her ears.

CHAPTER III.

RULES AND REGULATIONS.

At six o'clock they were awakened by a long, melodious trumpet call. The vigorous tripping melody drove the sleep from their brains like a dash of cold water. Billie found herself sitting up in bed humming: