“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.