“Do you young ladies realize that we have the cares of housekeeping on our shoulders?” asked Cora, from a mass of boxes and bags, not to mention trunks, in the alleged living room of the Mote.
“Oh, let us forget it—do,” begged Bess. “I always hate the summertime when it brings dishes and things.”
“It’s good for you,” affirmed Marita. Bess did know that hard work is considered “good” for stout persons.
“Maybe, but it is not pleasant,” Bess answered, flinging herself upon the improvised couch, a matter of hammocks and blankets, still bearing baggage checks and tie-ropes.
“But our housekeeper has given notice,” announced Cora. “And I don’t wonder. Not one has been on time for a single meal since we arrived. But I must say, I wish she had stayed until the stuff was all unpacked. It’s dreadful on the hands,” and she looked at hers ruefully.
“Why not ask the boys to help?” asked Lottie, who was doing her best to press her damp clothes by stretching the most important of them over Belle’s trunk, and holding them there with two suitcases. “If I had not gotten these things wet I should have been glad to unpack, but if I leave them this way over night I shall never be able to wear them again.”
“If you knew the boys as well as we do,” Bess put in, “you would know what their help means. They would insist upon trying on every article of clothing they unpacked; wouldn’t they Cora?”
“Something like that, Bess, if they did unpack at all. But, seriously, if you will give me a little help to drag these empty trunks to the porch, I will tell you of a plan I have evolved. Of course we cannot remain this way without a chaperone.”
“Isn’t it perfectly silly?” complained Belle. “As if we were not all capable of taking care of ourselves.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” objected Cora. “I have noticed that in case of emergency, when some strange man happens to poke his nose in at the window, we are all rather glad to acknowledge we are mere babes.”
“And also when we meet them under willow trees,” Marita reminded the boastful ones. “I am sure I agree with Cora that we need a chaperone, and perhaps a policeman or two.”
The girls paused in dragging the baggage toward the front door.
“Just the same,” Marita went on, “Lottie was frightened to-day and she only heard a strange man say, ‘They call them the motor girls.’ As if that was anything terrifying.”
“But it was the way they said it,” Lottie protested. “They just peered at us—and——”
“Now, Lottie,” said Cora, “you have an idea that everyone who looks at us ‘peers’ at us. For my part I was rather flattered by their attention. You see the fame of the motor girls is spreading. But let me now make my proposition,” and she settled down on the rug that was intended to cover the floor—some time.
“Let her ‘prop’!” cried Belle.
“Well, you know our little friend, Freda, has lost some property; that is, her mother and herself have lost a certain claim to it. This little colony around here is fairly bristling with the prosperity implanted in it by such thrifty men as was Freda’s grandfather, but in spite of that, strangers come in, make a big fuss about riparian rights, and government laws, and property claims and, in so doing, pretend to discover a flaw in a title that for years has been considered perfectly clear.” She paused, for Bess had opened her mouth twice, and this time Cora wanted to hear what she had to say.
“We heard some women talking about that to-day,” said Bess, “and they said it was a shame to take a homestead from Mrs. Lewis. They were not whispering their opinions, either.”
“So it is a shame,” Cora said, “and if we can, in any way, help to get the truth established, we will surely have a good reason to remember this holiday.”
“How?” queried Marita. “We don’t understand anything about land, and deeds, and lawyers.”
At this everyone but Marita laughed. She was not acquainted with the daring deeds of the motor girls, as that was what they had undertaken and accomplished in the past.
“You see, Marita dear,” Cora explained, “because we seem such harmless babies we are able to get information that others, considered more dangerous, might not have access to. Now, let me continue. There are men around here, members of some sort of a land company, who are trying to get hold of certain papers. We don’t know whether they exist or not, but in our own quiet, girlish way——”
Here she was interrupted with a burst of mocking laughter. “Your quiet girlish way,” repeated Belle. “Why, Cora, I do believe if you thought you could get the better of that land company you would take the Chelton, and go—pirating! Wouldn’t it be great to go out on a dark night, steam up the bay, watch for other boats, listen to the smugglers——”
“Oh, Belle,” put in Lottie, “that’s not the way in books. We would have to go out and get kidnapped, and then, when in the cave, we would hear the plot of the men who were going to steal the old homestead.”
“Hurrah!” cried her hearers.
“Lottie for captain of the kidnapped,” suggested Cora. “Now, Lottie, when it gets good and dark you are to go out under the biggest tree on the place and await your captors.”
“Hello there! Anybody home?”
“The boys!” gasped Belle. “Now what about having wasted our time? Come in!”
“Nice of you to ask us,” groaned Jack. “Say, we are dead and buried, and the will is now being read. Somebody broke into our larder and stole the grub. Have you any to put out at interest?”
“Stole your eatables!” exclaimed Marita.
“Well, you could scarcely call it that,” replied Jack, espying an undamaged orange on the window sill, and making a lunge for it. “We did intend to eat the stuff, but it was just plain grub—not eatables.”
“Jack, haven’t you boys had your supper?” asked Cora.
“We are on a diet,” explained Jack. “Wallie had the crackers, Ed nabbed the dried beef—he’s the biggest and needs the most, you know—and I got the pickles. Then we followed directions, and each drank three sips of pure spring water. But the trouble arose when Dray came in. He said he was to have milk—doctor’s orders. We didn’t have any but ‘pretense’ milk, so Dray is now out looking for a cow.”
Just then the sound of approaching footsteps was heard.
“They come!” announced Jack. “I was merely the herald. Have you made out the menu, Cora dear?”
“Do you mean to say we have to feed—all you boys?” demanded Bess.
“Feed us? No, we can eat with spoons. Just lead us to the eats. Really, it is serious with Dray. He has already gone dead white. Come in, fellows. We are expecting you. The girls are just getting out the best linen!”
Dray, Walter and Ed entered, and like Jack, showed signs of starvation. They literally fell into the most convenient spot available as they reached the room.
“Good evening, ladies,” panted Dray. “We are delighted to accept your kind invitation to dine with you. Pray pardon the togs. I feel like a regular ‘toff,’ don’t you know, but my studs are for the moment lost. And what is a frock without the studs!”
“Well, if this isn’t the very utmost,” said Cora, laughing at the boys’ predicament. “Do you mean to say that you are really hungry?”
“Shall we demonstrate?” asked Ed. “Do you allow us? Belle, get out the chronometer and a hunk of something. If you don’t soon you will have a case of homicide on your hands.”
Finally believing that the boys were hungry, the girls proceeded to empty the ice box on the back porch. They did not find any too much food there, for the sudden departure of their housekeeper that afternoon had left the girls themselves almost stranded. But, being girls, they managed the living end a little better than the boys did.
The boys, it seemed, had laid in a stock of canned stuff, in the usual hit-and-miss way, but some other campers found the “cave” where the food had been hidden. It was out of the question either to take or get ice, so the next best thing considered was the digging of a big hole in a very damp place. Into this the boys had sunk a nice, clean, galvanized tub, and in it the victuals had been placed. On top was a cover, made of boards and oil cloth, and over this was placed the limb from a tree, this last to detract attention.
“Now, wouldn’t you think,” said Jack, as he fortified himself with a sandwich, “that any decent chap would know that we belonged to the union? We are going to form a housewives’ league at dawn to-morrow, and then we will find the culprits. They will be offering us our own grub at exorbitant rates.”
“Bright little Jackie,” commented Bess, who was devouring cheese and macaroons. “When you find the culprits you will have a perfectly good movie act in your camp. It will be entitled ‘The Fate of the Kid Grubber.’”
While the boys were thus engaged in the delightful task of keeping off starvation, the girls were anxious to hear what was the proposition Cora had offered to lay before them.
“That’s just the way,” grumbled Belle; “we never can get at the interesting things!”
“I am going to tell the boys this minute,” threatened Marita. “We notice, Belle, that you brought out that lemon pie that was hidden. Looks as if you found the boys rather interesting.”
“Now you know exactly what I mean,” insisted Belle. “Cora said we had to have a chaperone and we all agreed. Instead, we have a crowd of noisy boys.”
“When you boys have finished,” Cora remarked, “we would like to clear up the debris. Also, we have a sad announcement to make. We have lost our housekeeper!”
“Good!” almost shouted Ed. “I apply at once. I can give every qualification, even to a civil service examination. Cora, I never tasted such food before——”
“Mutiny!” yelled Jack, making a spring at Ed, which ended in such a mixup that the girls fled to the kitchen.
“We really cannot stay alone here to-night,” Cora said.
But the boys had come to their feet again, and evidently to terms. Jack was hugging Walter and Dray was smoothing Ed’s black hair.
“Will the boys go and leave us?” asked the timid Marita.
“Of course they will, and that right now,” declared Cora. “We have no time to spare to get someone else to stay with us, however. Bess, do you want to come with me? I am going out for our new companion.”
“Oh, do hurry,” pleaded Cora. “I had no idea it was so late. And it is awfully dark.”
“A nice way to scare me when you have got me out,” objected Bess. “Cora Kimball, I have a great mind to run back. I never saw lights look so attractive as they do just now in the Mote.”
“Run back if you like,” returned Cora, “but I will run on. It was unfortunate that the boys came in just as they did. I really have a good reason for not wanting to stay alone to-night.”
“You have?” asked Bess. “I knew you and Lottie had had some adventure.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Bess,” and Cora laughed lightly. “Everything is perfectly safe and sane at the bay, but what I want is to get over to the little cottage where Freda and her mother are living before they retire. It is Mrs. Lewis I hope to get as our housekeeper.”
“Mrs. Lewis!” exclaimed Bess in surprise.
“Yes, but we won’t call her housekeeper. I haven’t thought it all out yet; in fact, I am not sure they will come, but I hope so.”
“Oh, so do I; that would be fine,” and Bess almost forgot how black the night was. “I met Mrs. Lewis the day we came, and I could not help thinking what a fine, wholesome mother Freda had.”
“Yes, I have been talking to her and I think she is just that—fine and wholesome. And goodness knows,” added Cora fervently, “we need some weight at the Mote. But they may not consent. I happened to overhear a remark this afternoon that set me to thinking. I am afraid poor Freda and her mother are in for further trouble.”
They hurried along, making their way with difficulty in the deep sand that covered road and path alike. Once or twice they paused, startled at the sound of men’s voices, then hurried the more to make up for lost time.
“Why didn’t we have one of the boys come with us?” asked Bess.
“Because I am not ready yet to have the boys know all our plans, and to trust one of them—Bess Robinson, you know our boys. What one knows the rest can guess.”
“That’s so,” mused Bess. “Is that the cottage?”
“Yes, right over there,” and Cora indicated a light through the trees. “I am glad they are still up!”
It was only a few steps further, and this space was rapidly covered. As the two girls reached the porch, and before they had a chance to touch the knocker, the door was opened by Freda.
“Who is it?” she asked in a frightened voice.
“Only Cora and Bess,” Cora replied, noting the fear in Freda’s tone. “Are we too late to come in?”
“No, indeed,” Freda replied, reassured. “I was afraid it might be unwelcome visitors, but you are heartily welcome.”
The living room of the cottage was typical of the seashore—a long apartment, with field-stone fireplace and fumed fir trim. The stairway led up from the room and gave it an air of even greater spaciousness. Altogether it was most attractive. Mrs. Lewis, a slim, fine-featured woman, rose from her rocker as the girls entered.
“It is late to call,” began Cora, “but our business is really urgent. We have been left all alone suddenly—our housekeeper says she received a hurried call to go back to her family in the city. I don’t question the call, I know how often and faithfully they follow maids who find a country place lonely; but the fact is we girls do not fancy staying alone to-night.”
“Why, of course not,” replied Mrs. Lewis, briskly. “You must have some older person with you.”
It was plain, now that the girls had become accustomed to the lights, that Freda and her mother had both been crying. Their eyes were red and their cheeks swollen. Freda saw that the girls observed this.
“Yes, we have been weeping,” she said, with an attempt at a smile. “It seems as though we have new troubles daily.”
“I am so sorry,” Cora returned. “I wish we could help you.”
“I am sure you have done so,” replied Mrs. Lewis. “Freda has great hopes that you girls will do for us what perhaps lawyers might not be able to do.” She hesitated and Freda went on:
“Those horrid men from the land company were here again this afternoon. They say we have no right even to this little cottage.”
“No right here!” exclaimed Cora. “I believe they are just trying to get you to leave the place so that they can go on with their plans without being watched.”
“I never thought of that,” replied Mrs. Lewis, as though the idea was novel to her. “Then, indeed, they will have more trouble than brow-beating to get us to leave Crystal Bay.”
“I must hurry with my errand,” said Cora. “I came to see if it would be possible for you and Freda to lock up and come over with us to-night. I am afraid those land sharks have our little place marked, too, for they have been loitering around all day. I don’t want to tell the boys. They are hasty and so apt to resent any intrusion that would worry us.”
“Why should the men bother you?” asked Mrs. Lewis.
“I suppose because they know that Freda is a friend of ours,” replied Cora. “But don’t worry about them bothering us, all we want is to be able to meet them fairly. Of course if they knew we were alone at night they might be mean enough to frighten us, and some of the girls are rather timid.”
“Indeed, we will lock up at once,” declared Mrs. Lewis, “and go right over with you. We have not many treasures now to be afraid of losing.”
“Oh, that is splendid!” Cora cried. Freda immediately went about fastening the windows and seeing to the general locking up, while Mrs. Lewis hurried up stairs to pack a small bag. It seemed as though they were ready almost instantly, much to the relief of Bess, who kept wondering if the boys would remain at the bungalow with the girls until her own and Cora’s return.
“Now we are off,” said Mrs. Lewis, looking back at her home with a wistful sigh. She seemed to have a premonition that leaving it meant more than appeared at the moment.
Freda walked with Bess while Mrs. Lewis and Cora kept close behind them. They had not more than reached the turn that led to the direct path when shouts and laughter were heard.
“There are the girls,” Bess exclaimed. “They are looking for us.”
The surmise was correct, for directly the answer came back to the familiar camp call.
“Here we are!” cried Cora. “On the pine path.”
“Oh!” gasped Belle. “We have had the greatest fright! Where have you been?”
“Making a call,” replied Cora, calmly. “What was your fright?”
“Come along and I’ll tell you,” Belle replied. Then she saw Freda and Mrs. Lewis.
“We have brought protectors,” Cora said. “Mrs. Lewis and Freda are going to spend the night with us.”
“Oh, splendid!” exclaimed Marita. “I was so afraid we would have to stay alone.”
“Where are the boys?” Cora asked.
“Someone from the beach came up and said Dray’s boat was loose, and of course, they had to all go at once to tie it up.”
“Better than to let it drift,” Cora said, “but I am sorry if you were timid.”
“Oh, we were not,” declared Belle, stoutly. “Only we distinctly heard someone on the back porch.”
“At our ice box!” gasped Cora.
“Oh, we never thought of that!” exclaimed Belle.
“Then likely we will be without breakfast,” responded Cora. “But here we are. Who has the key?”
Belle opened the door. “The light is out!” she whispered. “Cora,” she said, aside, “I left it burning!”
“Yes, I say it’s a shame!” cried Jack, indignantly.
“Perfectly awful,” confirmed Dray.
“Our meeting is at nine,” announced Walter, “and when I went on the soup shift, I did not agree to do the waiting. That’s not my part.”
Ed tucked an end of white mosquito netting in his belt, draped it jauntily, and appeared ready to do the “waiting.” Walter was frying bacon and eggs on the oil stove. Jack threw dishes at the oilcloth-covered table in imitation of a game of quoits, and he rarely missed the mark. They were about to have breakfast, and in spite of the difficulties encountered in the way of modern improvements omitted in the arrangement of Camp Couldn’t (the camp got that name for a million reasons), the boys were having a fine time.
“That coffee will be cold,” protested Dray, “and my doctor says cold coffee is slow poison. I prefer my poison quick.” The joke about Dray’s doctor was that Dray never knew a doctor other than the medical inspector at school. He had such astonishingly good health that they used the idea of sickness in reference to him as a “counter irritant.”
“But this stove is a trifle small,” said Walter. “What do you say we buy that one from Camp Cattle? It’s a peach.”
“If the Cattle crowd have a good stove they won’t sell it,” replied Jack. “You will likely find a second-hand flue in it, or a rubber hose leader. Those boys are brilliant. If we need a new stove let it be from Duke’s, with a cast-iron guarantee.”
“Right-o,” seconded Dray. “The cast-iron is always useful about a camp. But I say, what about the racket at the Mote last night? That sister of yours, Jack, is wasting her talents. She ought to be chief of a detective bureau.”
“Cora is all right,” Jack returned, proudly. “And while we are on the subject, and not to brag, of course, I might say that some of the other girls are in the same class. First few years they came out to the woods I used to be rather doubtful, but now we often find that the maids can take care of the masters; don’t we, Wallie? More of that odor, please. I wonder why bacon turns all to odor when it’s cooked up!”
“There are only two more pieces of odor left,” complained Walter, “and I’d like the smell myself.”
“Oh, all right. I have had more than enough.” Jack waved a disdainful hand loftily. “I believe, as it is, I should be more careful what I eat.”
A huge, very hard bun, the sort found only in bakeries near Summer resorts, hit Jack squarely in the face. Without any comment he caught it, cut it in half, and with a tin spoon plastered it with butter. Then he put “the lid on it,” and tried to get it between his teeth. It was heroic exercise, but Jack had been trained at a reputable college, and had learned to eat what he wanted.
“But those duffers, the land men,” continued Dray, “what are they after the girls for? I had an idea one of them must be trying to claim relationship with the fair Freda. He kept so close to her when she was out after Denny.”
“Relationship!” Jack repeated, with a laugh. “You almost hit it, Dray. I guess the bear would like to be her first cousin, for he is trying to get her goods and chattels from her.”
“How?”
“Oh, we must not go into that; at least not just yet. I promised Cora not to be hasty with Moran. He’s the ‘gent’ who is supposed to be president of the company.”
“The one who wears the Panama? I wonder if anyone would think of haste in connection with that duffer. It took him just one hour to buy three soft crabs from some kids at the dock yesterday,” said Walter. “I wouldn’t like to be his messmate. But I don’t like his eye; it’s made on the bias.”
“Yes, always looks as if it were going to slip out of the socket,” confirmed Jack. “Well, I hope the girls won’t go in too deep with their schemes. Those fellows are from little old N’Yawk.”
“Quick!” whispered Walter. “There’s that Black. If he lays eyes on your plates he’ll lick them.”
The last morsels of food were crammed into mouths before the call from the neighboring camper was answered.
“Come right in,” Ed said, finally, “and help yourself. Have you had your grape fruit?”
“Oh, no,” sighed Tom Black, “I didn’t feel exactly right this morning.” (He brushed a brown hand across his brow.) “Nerves, I guess.”
“Nerves? Grub!” shouted Jack. “Didn’t I see a can marked ‘soup’ in your back yard this a. m.?”
“Might have, but I didn’t. Else I would have had soup.”
“There were grubbers around last night,” went on Jack, “and we thought we found a thread that matches your sweater, sticking to a nail in our grub box.”
“My sweater is not ripped that I can see,” replied Tom, innocently, “but if you are so kind I might take it. Don’t think we put our sewing boxes in the kit, come to think of it.”
“It will be ripped presently,” announced Ed. “We have reason to suspect the Cattle; in fact, we have engaged counsel.”
“The motor girls, I fancy, will defend you,” said Tom, nonchalantly, “but I assure you, you will have no case. We are absolutely without grub; in fact, our case is pitiable.”
“And you had a ‘Doins’ last night,” Dray reminded him. “Now, Tom, we want to be fair, but we have arranged to form a housewives’ league for the purpose of swiping systematically. For instance,” (here he got a burnt match and tried to trace something on the oilcloth), “if we have company, and no olives, we could go over to your cupboard, take a bottle and deposit in its stead, say, a can of beans.”
“Great!” shouted Tom, tossing up his cap, that landed on the flaming oil stove. “You should not waste oil,” he said, as he rescued the cap. “It’s always wise to turn out the stove when you take off the pan.”
“The meeting is to be held in our living room,” Ed said, pointing outside to a bench made of a tree limb au naturel. “When we have formed our committees and settled on our constitution——”
This last word seemed to give every boy present a sort of agony, for each began to “feel for his constitution,” as if that important part of his physique had been lost in the camp woods.
“I wish you could settle my constitution,” remarked Tom. “Once I get that settled, I don’t care what happens.”
“Now, quit your fooling,” returned Walter. “I have an engagement and I would like to get my housework done. Tom, help yourself to a towel, and be careful not to wipe the plates on a glass towel. You can tell the difference by the border. The dish towel is all border, the center or hole went up on the oil stove, a little trick our stove has—it does not like towels. The proper towel for the glasses is that one with the black line drawn through the middle. The black line is not important, it was put there with a single wipe of the spark plug from the Lassie. Ed did it, very neatly.”
Tom took the towel tossed to him, and, as only a boy can, began to dry the dishes that Walter was piling in front of him. First he patted and rubbed the towel on one side of the dish that lay before him; then he turned the same dish over with a bang and repeated the patting and rubbing on the other side. After that he gave the plate a spin. If it landed right side up he left it so; if the trade-mark showed he counted it a “foul,” and tried the trick again. How boys can get work done that way is always a mystery to girls, who find the same play labor.
“Do I stay for lunch?” Tom asked. “I suppose when a fellow helps with the general housework he is entitled to his ‘keep.’”
“Oh, we would just love to have you,” replied Jack, with mock seriousness, “but the fact is, we are all invited out. We lunch on the Chelton to-day,” and he strutted around with such wide sweeping curves, and twists, that he knocked from the narrow board table every last bit of butter the “Couldn’ts” had in their camp. Gingerly he scooped up the top lump, that lay on the store dish, but the scraps had to be scraped up with the egg turner, and the spot on the floor (they had a board floor in the camp) had to be washed up with the dish water, when Walter finally relinquished that important commodity.
“More careful next time,” commanded Dray. “I’m off to call the meeting. Where’s that dinner bell?”
The “bell,” a very old and very large tray, was found outside under the bench, and with a good strong stick Dray beat it furiously, until it might easily be heard by every camper on the grounds. At the first signal boys came scampering from all directions. Some carried towels—too much excited to drop them in their camps; others dashed through the woods with sweaters on their arms, and reluctant neckties in their fists, for it was early and the campers had scarcely time to make “careful” toilets.
“Grub?” they asked in chorus. “Let us see it? Lead us to it!”
“Grub nothing!” replied Walter. “You just get outside on that bench, the overflow can take the reserved seats on the nice green moss. This meeting has been called for the purpose of organizing the Housewives’ League of Crystal Bay.”
“Aoo-oo-ou—oh!” came a groaning reply from those who felt able to groan. “And I left sugar in my coffee cup,” wailed he with the dish towel.
“And there were perfectly good crumbs at my place,” sighed Teddy, a boy with so many colors in his face that they called him “Rainbow.”
“Come to order!” called Jack, banging on the tent table, which was to serve as the chairman’s desk. “Every camp must qualify.”
“We do! We do!” shouted the majority, the rest being engaged in a rough and tumble for places near the “door.”
“The purpose of this meeting,” went on Jack, ducking a lump of moss tossed in lieu of a bouquet, “is to formulate plans, whereby the humans of Prowlers’ Paradise may continue to defy the birds of the air, and the beasts of the field, and live in a perfectly human way.”
“Hurrah for the humans!” shouted Rainbow, and the cheers that followed did more than merely consume time.
“Let me explain,” interrupted Dray, pushing Jack from his place, and taking the stand pompously. “We have been the victims of prowlers. We have lost our soup; we also lost our cans of milk—in fact, the cruel ones took everything but our appetites, and now we propose to put a stop to such depredations. We will form a league to borrow and to lend, also to pay back, but he who taketh his brother’s soup and returneth not a can of beans shall be expelled from the Prowlers’ Paradise!”
“We did lose five small cans of milk,” reiterated Walter to Dave, the head or chief of a big camp called “We-like-it,” “and if we find the rowdy who took that he shall be court-martialed.”
A commotion then started that broke up the meeting. The boys, in rolling and tumbling about, rolled Dainty, so-called because he never could get enough to eat, and because his quest showed in unweighable pounds of fat, deliberately down the small hill at the side of Camp Couldn’t. Two of the Cattle did the rolling, and as Dainty made one full turn a can of milk squirmed out of his pocket.
“Robber! Thief! Traitor!” screamed the rollers, and then poor Dainty was lugged back to the camp.
Making the charge against him, and making an example of him would be too sad a tale for words; sufficient to say that the meeting adjourned at the request of a peace commission.
When the last visitor had been “shooed” away and the Couldn’ts had carefully prepared for the lunch to be taken on the Chelton (although Ed claimed that Walter had appropriated his most becoming tie, and that the shade of tan rather marred Wallie’s own “tannery” effect), the boys finally put the camp flap down good and tight, and were off to the bay.
Far out in the pretty bay the Chelton was anchored. It was arranged that the luncheon should be given too far from land to get anything in supplies that might have been forgotten. In fact, it was to be a test meal, such as might be a necessity in case of “shipwreck” or accident.
It was such a day as sometimes makes early Summer copy Spring, when the mists of morning mingle with the sun’s rays, and send up shafts of haze to pillar the sky from land or water.
There had been great preparations for this salt water lunch. The girls, enthusiastic over the possibilities, had vied with one another in arranging the affair.
Dray ran his boat, the Dixie, alongside, and together the fleet of two comprised what the boys termed a “White House Lunch.” The cooking was all done on the Chelton and the eatables were handed over the brass rail to Lottie and Marita, who served as waitresses on the Dixie. First there were lettuce sandwiches, rolled. Any girl who can successfully roll bread and lettuce is termed proficient by the cooking teachers, and it was a tie between Belle and Cora as to who did the most and best of the rolling.
With the lettuce came the greatest treat to the boys—homemade crab salad—home caught crabs and handmade dressing thereon.
“I caught the biggest crab,” declared Lottie, handing the wooden plate to Belle. “Isn’t that fine!”
“Finest!” she repeated, enthusiastically. “But say! Why don’t the boys catch crabs?”
The boys did not waste time asking questions. Lettuce sandwiches! Crab salad! They would be serving frappé next!
“Eat plenty of salad,” Cora ordered. “We spent all yesterday evening crabbing.”
“Will—we—eat—it?” exclaimed Walter. “I won’t dare look at a frying pan again this week, and my term ends with the week,” he said, between bites.
Next came baked potatoes. These had been done on the electric toaster, right aboard the Chelton, and while scarcely a correct following for salad, the first was given as an appetizer, and the potatoes as food.
The latter were served on the smallest of wooden plates, with the most extravagant little butter plates—really sauce or cream “thimbles,” all fluted and shaped from white paper.
A dozen of these cups had been Belle’s contribution to the feast. She spied them at the news stand, over at the point, and could not leave them.
Dried beef went with the potatoes, also dill pickles, and while Cora kept the electric toaster going, and saw to it that the “kitchen” did not run out of hot water from a reserve tank, the other girls took turns eating their own lunches. Of course, as the boys were guests, it was important their wants should be first supplied, a matter not easily managed, as the girls soon found out.
“More! More!” called Ed, who was eating the browned potato skin, or bark, with unmistakable relish. “Potatoes are good for the nerves!”
“Robber!” shouted Jack, grabbing a second supply that had just been adjusted on Ed’s plate. “Potatoes are good for the lungs, and I am—winded.”
“I should like just a tiny bit more crab,” simpered Dray. “Fish is good for——”
“We have something more,” Cora announced, “don’t each too much solid stuff.”
“We couldn’t,” declared Belle, “not if we kept eating for the rest of our mortal lives, it wouldn’t be too much.”
“There are the ‘Likes’!” announced Lottie, indicating a canoe gliding up the bay, in which were two members of the “We-like-it” camp. “Now we will have to hide things.”
“Hide things!” Belle tossed her sweater over her plate as she saw the canoe. “We are lost!”
“Oh, let us invite them alongside,” suggested Lottie, who, up to that moment had been so busy with setting out plates that she had scarcely spoken to the visitors. “We have plenty of stuff.”
“Nix, nary, not much!” cried Ed, in protest. “That’s ‘Dainty’ there, the stroke, and if he gets in here he’ll eat the dish pan and the cooker. I say, young ladies should be most careful what sort of fellows they associate with.”
But in spite of this the “Likes” were invited. Possibly they smelled the eatables, for they came up to the side of the Chelton as nicely as if they had set out from shore with that intention.
“Thanks,” called Dainty, the fat one, “we would be pleased to,” although no one had asked him to do anything.
“Delighted,” affirmed Kent, the other of the party. “We sent our cards by messenger.”
The canoe bobbed up and down, until Cora took an extra rope from the Chelton and threw it to Dainty, who in turn tied it to a small hook in the green Snake. This served to keep the canoe from capsizing as Dainty and Kent crept into the Chelton.
Just what saved all three boats from being turned upside down in the racket that followed only Neptune knows, for in their delight at seeing real food the boys from the “Likes” grew so impetuous that the “Couldn’ts” felt called upon to interfere.
Crabs, sandwiches, potatoes—each in turn were hailed with gales of glee, until the girls fell back exhausted with the strain of providing and cooking.
“Let me, let me,” begged Dray, “I know exactly how to handle electric appliances. I press my neckties—with an electric iron.”
He was over into the Chelton, and piling more potatoes under the little tin cover on the toaster, before anyone had time to answer.
“Turned or unturned?” he asked, surveying a smoking potato critically.
“Both or neither,” answered the famished Dainty between gasps.
“I’ll take my coffee now,” announced Jack, sitting back in the cushions, and flicking an imaginary speck from his sweater.
“Now, you must wait,” Cora ordered. “We have not caught up to you yet. We are only at the entree.”
Lottie declared she never had such a splendid time in her life, and the brightness of her cheeks catching the flame from her eyes bore out this statement. Marita, too, seemed to have “shook her cocoon,” Jack said, his economy of language scarcely making up for the little difference in “shook” and “shaken.” Certainly she managed to climb from one boat to another with remarkable alertness, while Bess, Belle and Cora acted like up-to-date society maidens, only they acted a little in advance of the “date” usually adhered to.
“And do we have to leave these shores?” wailed Ed, sipping a real good cup of coffee. “Why not anchor here for now and for eternity!”
“I thought you liked camping,” said Belle. “Surely you are not tired of housekeeping. Doesn’t it run smoothly?”
“Sure,” replied Ed, “but the grub is the trouble. I wonder why mammas, with good moral intentions, train little boys to eat?”
“Do you see those clouds,” remarked Cora, “they are just swooping down on us, and we are miles from home. My, but it is going to be a quick shower!”
The young people had been enjoying themselves so much that not until Cora spoke did they realize that the sky had become overcast.
“Oh, I’m scared to death,” cried Marita. “Those clouds are so near—you would think they would touch the water!”
“Oh, aren’t they black!” gasped Belle.
“Come, get everything under cover,” called Jack, thinking first of the danger to the girls and their boat. “Dray can get his awning up quickly enough, but this one has not been opened yet.”
“You boys just tie your canoe tight to us,” Cora said, as the two visitors were about to climb into their frail skiff. “You would be washed out during the storm that’s coming. Here, Bess, hold this,” handing Bess one end of the awning tie. “Belle, can you keep that rope taut?”
It was astonishing how quickly the scene of enjoyment turned to one of alarm. Those of the girls who were active and eager to assist in making things safe, did not suffer so much from fright as did they who took time to watch the clouds. The first severe storm of Summer usually has a more terrifying effect upon the timid ones than those that may follow, and this one certainly was a “star” for a starter.
The lightning soon began to flash intermittently and the thunder to rumble. The clear expanse of horizon afforded such a wide view of the storm that it was small wonder those out in the bay feared for their safety.
“Oh!” wailed Marita, as one flash of lightning seemed to dart directly at the brass rail of Dray’s boat. “I thought I was struck!”
Her words had not been uttered before the clap of thunder followed. This had that queer, deep sound peculiar to the water, and certainly the heart of the storm seemed to hover over the little fleet.
All over the bay sail boats, canoes, motor boats, row boats and every sort of craft were making for shore, but in most of these there were little or no goods that might be damaged by rain or waves, while both the Dixie and the Chelton would have suffered severely had they encountered a down-pour uncovered.
The awnings were up at last, and Jack had started the Chelton. Directly after that the chug of the Dixie was heard.
Then it was all storm! Raging! Roaring! Which way could two small motor boats hope to plough their way in such a fury of wind, rain and lightning?
The waves had assumed the proportions of billows, and every time a boat lifted with the crest, a huge bank of water would break over it.
Jack clung to the steering wheel, and Cora never took her eyes off the engine. But how they whirled and twirled! There was the Dixie! It was keeping near—one good thing. The canoe had broken loose and was soon lost to sight. No one bewailed it; there was too serious work at hand for that.
“Let me look after the gas!” begged Kent of Cora. He was at her elbow, but she had insisted on personally attending to the machine.
“I know it better, perhaps,” she shrieked back, “but stay close. If I cannot manage I will let you know!”
One terrific clap, then a roar sounded in the ears of all, but seemed to paralyze Lottie.
She fell in a heap and lay speechless. Up to this time she had been half sitting in the bottom of the boat.
“She’s struck!” shrieked Belle. Then Cora left the engine to Kent and took charge of the senseless girl.