The Girl Scouts at Camp Comalong

The girls were deliciously excited. Uncovering the mystery of Peg’s cabin lent no end of possibilities, not the least of which was the hope of having this girl of the hills unite with their own activities at last.

“Will somebody kindly drape that sun dial and hold back on time a little?” asked Corene. “However are we going to cram things into a few meager hours this fateful day?”

“When things crowd to the point of congestion,” declared Julia, “they simply have to be omitted. I move to omit everything omittable.”

“And I tally the motion,” chirped Grace. “It saves time to tally instead of adding to.”

“If you will all kindly line up for chow,” suggested Louise. “I don’t see any nor scent any, but some should be about. There goes the twelve o’clock boat.”

“Company, and on moving day!” exclaimed Julia, dancing around in shameless joy. “There comes the old Hawk soaring in, sure enough.”

A couple of toots and a few squawks from the smoke-stack of the Hawk (or thereabouts) and the steamer glided in majestically, unmindful of the coming bump.

“Kids, Kidlets, and Kiddies!” exclaimed Cleo, as through the trees the dock could be seen fairly crawling with youngsters.

Miss Mackin had joined the ranks of the spectators. “Looks like our fresh air camp,” she gasped.

“Allow me to do the honors,” orated Isabel. “That motley throng reminds me of my last birthday party. They’re all broke out in bundles.”

“Wait; they may not be coming here,” interrupted Julia. “Why couldn’t some other camp have company?”

“Because it’s our last day of surprises,” Cleo said, springing to a tree stump for a better view of the dock. “That contingent is headed this way. Let’s prepare.”

But surprise akin to astonishment was the only preparation noticeable. New gasps and exclamations were plentifully in evidence, and the omissions mentioned as within the rules of too full a day were now very definitely settled upon, for even the noon-day meal was falling in arrears.

“It can and perhaps is,” remarked Cleo. “They all carry the same shaped bundles. They’re evidently not homemade.”

There could be no mistake now; the parade was marching up Comalong path. Miss Mackin patted her hair and the others made motions at their ear puffs.

“There’s the cakes of wheat if they haven’t grown mossy,” replied Cleo. “We’ll get Corey to toast them.”

“Mossy!” repeated Isabel. “That box has whiskers. I looked at it this morning.”

“Are we right?” came a voice from the advance guard of the procession. “Is this Camp Comalong?”

“Oh, I’m so glad. The boatman was not sure. And the children hoped this was the place; the trees looked so beautifully green.”

The speaker was leader of the influx; a prim, middle-aged woman whose sincerity of soul shown through two sparkling brown eyes. It was very obvious this leader loved her task.

An awkward pause followed her remarks. Even Miss Mackin seemed at a loss for a suitable reply.

“You got our message, didn’t you?” asked the brown-eyed woman, suddenly. Her charges were breaking ranks at all points.

Her voice wailed disappointment. All those eager little children and not expected!

“Messages are uncertain in the camps,” spoke Mackey promptly, getting herself in hand, as it were, and sensing catastrophe unless prompt measures intervened. “But you are welcomed, I’m sure. These are the members of Camp Comalong, the Bobolinks,” with a wave toward her amazed constituents. “We will do all we can to show you around.”

Grace choked on a giggle. Show them around when they were probably famished for food!

“I am so sorry,” murmured the little woman. “You see we heard you were giving up camp and going to turn it over to the needy children. We had planned an excursion, and the beaches are so rough and crowded, we just ventured to take a trip up here. The sail was delightful and—of course we have brought our lunches.”

The sigh of relief that travelled the rounds of the Bobbies amounted to a secret moan of joy.

Instantly the girls fell to welcoming the excursionists, but the children so quickly melted into the scenery that only by the promptest of efforts were the Bobbies able to reclaim the merest fringe of the disorganized parade. How those children ran and stumbled and fell over friendly bushes!

How they called and shouted! Could there really be hidden in the camp grounds all the treasures now being simultaneously announced?

“I—found—a—mush—a—room!” This last cry reached the ears of Corene, who quickly set after the mushroom hunters. There should be no sudden deaths from toad-stool poisoning at Camp Comalong.

Cleo and Grace had captured a girl with her chubby little brother. On account of the brother and his chubbiness they were more easily overtaken than the others. Louise and Isabel were trying to keep a party of four from wading in the spring, while Julia was panic-stricken at the food famine outlook. Miss Mackin talked to the strange leader, who proved to be Miss Rachel Brooks, of the Beacon Mission Settlement.

“I shouldn’t have come upon you this way for the world,” Miss Brooks insisted. “But I have been promising my children a picnic all summer, and they have to work so hard—those little girls. Vacation usually means harder work for such as they, for when school is dismissed the home work begins,” she declared, with a show of indignation.

“That’s quite true,” agreed Miss Mackin, “and I often think it is a pity that our child-labor laws do not include a continuous home survey. But again: what about the tired mothers these little daughters help?”

“True, true; just a circle of trouble for them, no matter how we try to help. So when I heard that a troop of Girl Scouts were going to give up their camp for city children——”

“At a conference of case workers the other day. You know we meet twice weekly to discuss our problems, and to try to keep our families out of court. I managed to get clothes from the Emergency Committee, so that quite a few children who were promised this trip could come along. But they must eat their lunches now. They are surely famished,” declared Miss Brooks. “Will it be all right for me to take them over to that little knoll, and let them open their boxes?”

“We will be glad to fix our camp table for them,” offered Miss Mackin with qualms of conscience, for were not the Bobbies also starving by now?

“I wouldn’t hear of taking your table; thank you just the same,” replied the stranger. “Besides, you know how they feel about eating in the grass, like gypsies. They have been planning that particular joy for a long time. Sadie!” she called. “Stella! Margie!” She clapped her hands, we might say skillfully, for every clap echoed itself with a resonance peculiar to actual skilled practice.

The girls called rounded up promptly. What a flock there was of them, and how they grazed like strange cattle in new found, verdant pastures!

And it was remarkable how these youngsters clung to their lunch boxes, and gathered flowers or treasures at the same time.

“You see,” Miss Brooks went on, “we have a cooking class. It’s a very small and humble attempt, but the children love it and we made most of our supplies for to-day’s party. At the suggestion of these older girls, I think Stella really proposed it, we made an extra supply and brought a box to—the Girl Scouts, if they will accept it.”

Cleo and Grace were near enough to hear the offer, and that they concealed their joy was due as much to good luck as to good manners, for how dreadfully hungry they really were? What a big day this was growing to be!

“Lovely,” said Miss Mackin archly. “Are you sure you can spare all this?” The girls were offering box after box, and, like flies attracted to the sweeter things, the Bobbies were hemming in.

“Yes’m,” said black-eyed Stella slyly. “And Zenta Nogrow has a big box of nut cookies.”

“Nut cookies!” repeated Corene, unable to comprehend the sudden blessing. “How could you go to all that trouble?”

“’Tweren’t any trouble. A lady from up town brought the nuts. Edna, where is Zenta?”

“I’ll get her,” offered Edna, a blonde with skin like a flower in spite of unfavorable environment.

Miss Brooks was clapping her hands again, and the visitors were following “the big girls” over to the little knoll under the pine trees. Julia and Isabel were making the Scouts’ table ready, while Louise and Corene went to introduce the spring, and to offer a good supply of extra drinking cups.

Miss Mackin was urging Miss Brooks to take her lunch at the table under the trees.

“You won’t think me ungrateful,” replied the visitor, “but you see, the children like to have me with them. They will fairly swamp me with questions about the woodland beauties. I would love to have you join us, however,” she invited Miss Mackin.

“Then we would be without a leader,” put in Cleo, swinging a free arm around Miss Mackin.

“Exactly, I understand. How good it is to be beloved,” said the serious little woman with the brown eyes, that sparkled latent possibilities.

Healthy hunger was driving all the human animals to food now, and the “drive” included the Bobbies, as well as the children from the Beacon Settlement.

Quickly boxes and little bundles were untied and unwrapped, and even at a distance the excursionists could be seen literally devouring the “basket lunch,” only there were really no baskets. True, a little Italian girl carried her food in a handmade straw bag that might be called a basket, while a Russian displayed a quaint braided affair from the Homelands; but boxes and bags, American in make, were mostly in evidence.

“How long are they going to stay?” ventured Grace. The question shot repeaters from all eyes around the festive board, for while the picnic interruption was all right as far as it went, it would never do to have those babes interfere with the evening’s programme. That was to feature Peg’s story in every last absorbing detail, and they were all eager to hear it.

“Yes,” repeated Cleo, looking straight at Miss Mackin. “How long are they going to stay?”

“Didn’t they say, the leader I mean?” pressed Louise, losing a choice bit of cookie in her anxiety.

“You don’t suppose they expect to camp here to-night!” Corene almost gasped.

“You see, it is known our camp is to be given over, and these clever little people have taken first chance. We have got to be good to them,” insisted Miss Mackin slyly.

“Oh, these children would be happy under the trees all day and satisfied to crawl under cover out of storms,” Miss Mackin’s eyes were dancing now and Cleo caught “their step.”

“You’re a fraud, Mackey Mackin!” she declared, tossing a bit of cracker at the leader. “You are just trying to scare us out of our big night. Why, only the most urgent business has kept Peg away from us all this time, and as for us—we are compelled to wait,” this last in tragic tones.

“Just look over at those youngsters rolling down hill,” interrupted Mackey. “If you’ll excuse me, girls, I’ll go over and be polite.”

“Take care you don’t get caught in the avalanche. Just look at the tidal wave!” said Julia.

“Rather keep your eyes on this table,” ordered Corene. “Don’t one of you dare bolt for the hill; not even if a couple of kiddies get caught in the thickets. I know you girls. Here Clee, carry these things to the kitchen. At least we must leave camp in good order.”

“And the time draweth near,” moaned Louise. “We know now what things will look like when we are gon-n-n-ne!”

“We will be gone for a long, long time!” intoned Julia, and the war time refrain was promptly executed—all of that!

“Here they come! Mercy on us!” exclaimed Grace. “The children are descending from the hillsides!” She grabbed up the food fragments from the table and hurried to hide them in their tin boxes.

“We must tell them how we enjoyed their cakes,” said Corene. “They are after a report, I’m sure.”

“We can’t tell them!” gasped Cleo, “for their settlement-made cookies simply saved our lives.” She moaned and groaned at the thought of the perilous escape.

“They were good!” declared Louise, raising her voice as the strangers came shyly along the little summer-worn path.

“Wade!” almost shrieked Grace. “They would strike right out for the West shore. As you value their precious lives don’t mention it again, Jule.” And she didn’t.

But there were other joys, many of them for the little party of settlement children. They explored the woods, wondered at the big lake (Miss Brooks would not allow one to enter a boat), then there was a final treat of a good time on the merry-go-round at the Point, and finally the Hawk tooted its whistle for them to go back to the railroad station.

It was not easy to gather them together for the embarkation, but Miss Brooks was so grateful and happy; every Bobolink felt it her special duty to help the children get aboard the old-fashioned steamer.

And it must be admitted there was a secret motive in the alacrity so evident, for the unexpected picnic had somewhat spoiled the afternoon’s plans for the Girl Scouts.

“Let’s go around by the big log cabin and tell Peg all about it,” suggested Isabel. “Then we won’t have to spoil our plans for to-night with the picnic interruption.”

“That’s a good idea!” chortled Grace. “Come right along and talk it out, every word of it. We did enjoy the youngsters, but oh, boy! for that final big story!”

CHAPTER XXII—PEG OF TAMARACK HILLS

The evening was cool and daylight lingered. True to her promise, Peg with Aunt Carrie came again to visit Camp Comalong.

“I have the fire all ready to start,” announced Julia, “but it is too early yet. Girls, do you realize I have been official fireman all summer?”

“But you wouldn’t allow us to interfere, wanted to be fireman, engineer and all that,” said Cleo.

“Do you notice we are all in uniform to-night?” said Louise. “Peg, yours is almost like ours.”

“Yes, I have worn a Scout uniform, since—Girls,” she said suddenly. “I never told you, but I am a Scout myself!”

“Yes. I joined in Pittsburg. But when I found myself sort of buried in this mineral work it would be useless for me to talk or even think of Scouting. That was why I didn’t mention it.”

“And I wanted the child, so much, to go in for all your lovely times,” murmured Miss Ramsdell. “But there was no use. She would stick to her work.”

“And just think, after all, I never found the clue I searched for!” Peg’s face now looked more boyish than ever, for it took on that seriously determined look usually foreign to the feminine.

“Wait, I’ll get my box and show you,” offered Peg; and Cleo went to the “safe” with her to get out the square japanned box. They returned to the council almost immediately. Then Peg took from the box a number of stones.

“See,” she said to her audience, “you asked me what zinc looked like. Here are some pieces.”

“Yes; dad found some and I found others. That is what I have been searching for with my little hand-drill. Don’t you remember you saw me on the big rock the day of your picnic?” asked Peg.

“Yes, we thought you were digging gold,” joked Corene. “But I suppose zinc is quite as valuable.”

“Indeed, it is, if we could only find the lost vein,” went on Peg. “The men you have seen prowling around here are hired by Mr. Fairbanks. But if they had discovered the ore on daddy’s claim I should have fought them for it,” declared the plucky girl, emphatically.

“See this,” she said, holding up a flat, gray piece. “This is the clue. See those marks?”

“Yes, up by the big rock!” Every word spoken now seemed electrically charged. It was Grace who said this.

“Wait! Wait!” begged Corene. “I’ll get ours,” and she dashed into the tent to drag from the “safe” the Scout’s own treasures. Then she laid the granite pieces on Peg’s lap.

“Oh!” almost screamed the girl. “Do you know what this means! Auntie, they have found the lost star!”

Everyone was talking now, and no one seemed to say anything intelligible; exclamations and sudden bursts of half formed sentences fairly puncturing the calm evening atmosphere. Peg was almost overcome, but being a real girl she was not given to such heroics.

“It all formed the cutest little star,” exclaimed Julia, finally. “We marked the spot so we can’t possibly lose it. We will take you right to it to-morrow morning,” she offered sincerely.

“I don’t know how I shall wait, but I’ll have to, of course,” said Peg. “You see, daddy put that star there the very day he was taken ill, and no matter how he tried to direct me I never could locate it.”

“But your dear father could hardly tell you anything, darling,” said Miss Ramsdell. “He was not with us long after that.”

“However did you come to discover it?” asked Peg, who was piecing together the magic stones that formed the star.

“We were following the danger—dynamite signs,” said Cleo. “Have you seen them?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” replied the visitor. “They were put there by the Fairbanks men to frighten me off. At first I did steer clear of them, but after kicking a few over and then watching the men plant them, I saw they were perfectly harmless,” declared Peg.

“We did that too, kicked them over, I mean,” said Julia. “And did they do that just to frighten you?”

“No; quite some distance from it,” replied Corene, “and it was just buried in a little soft pocket.”

“That’s just what dad said!” exclaimed Peg. “Don’t you know, auntie? He kept saying ‘by Big Nose in a little green pocket.’”

“Yes? Strange that we should happen to use the same expression,” put in Julia.

“It means that below that mark there is a vein of zinc. It runs from the rock, and dad was ready to bore for it just there,” declared Peg.

The sunset was pouring out its glory and the streams of color cut through the trees to beautify the little council group of Girl Scouts. Aunt Carrie told them of the perseverance of her niece, who had devoted all her girlish energy to fulfilling her father’s cherished plans.

“You see, we came up here to follow out my brother’s ideas,” said the little lady. Julia was now slipping away to light her campfire. “We have traveled a great deal, and followed many trails, but this one discovered in Tamarack Hills offered the biggest prize.”

“And just when everything was brightest, daddy had to go,” put in Peg. “I am sure no one could blame me for seeming queer when I was duty bound to take up his unfinished work.”

“Only the thoughtless could ever have questioned your purpose,” said Miss Mackin. “You see how eager our girls were to get acquainted with you.”

“Those other two fright-freaks were simply jealous,” declared Grace warmly. “They must have been furious that a girl like you could get the best of their big upholstered father.”

Everyone laughed at this description. Mr. Fairbanks really was sort of tufted and overstuffed.

“But I simply cannot believe you have found that vein mark that I have searched months for,” repeated Peg. “I don’t see how I shall ever wait to go up there. And to think Uncle Edward will be here to-morrow.”

“You really couldn’t separate those stone pieces, you know,” said Cleo. “You will need all those queer markings to follow out your clue with.”

“Yes, I could show those selfsame marks on a drawing that stone was marked from. The lines are eaten in with acid,” explained the visitor seriously.

“We thought they were made by acid; that is, Mackey did; don’t you remember, girls?” asked Louise.

The campfire blazed merrily now and the insistence that Peg and her aunt remain overnight finally was agreed to.

“Put the treasures away,” suggested Cleo, “and let us sing ‘Scouts Every One.’ We are going to have such a glorious evening!”

“And yet,” said Miss Ramsdell, “my niece tells me you are giving up camp?”

“Yes, we felt it was so much needed by some city children,” replied Corene, “and we really have had a lovely summer. You see, we all have cottages up here, and can stay till the last boat makes the last trip of the season.”

“Oh, no, we can’t,” corrected Isabel. “We all have to be back September fifteenth in dear old Essveay, you know.”

“Right, Izzy,” said Corene. “I was just trying to fool myself. Here’s Clee, all ready for her song. Get your uke, Louise.”

Stars flickered and breezes hummed in with the girls’ song; for what in life is half so sweet as the joy of a peaceful campfire?

And the very next day the star pieces were traced in their mysterious markings, the maps and outlines were matched up and the great zinc vein was finally uncovered by trustworthy hands.

All they hoped for was finally fully realized, and Peg’s labors were not in vain.

Leave our little friends here, content and happy until we meet them again in the next volume of this series, to be called “The Girl Scouts at Rocky Ledge.”

THE GIRL SCOUT PIONEERS,

  Or, Winning the First B. C.



THE GIRL SCOUTS AT BELLAIRE,

  Or, Maid Mary’s Awakening



THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST,

  Or, The Wig Wag Rescue



THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP COMALONG,

  Or, Peg of Tamarack Hills

The highest ideals of girlhood as advocated by the foremost organizations of America form the background for these stories and while unobtrusive there is a message in every volume.

THE GIRL SCOUT PIONEERS

    or Winning the First B. C.

A story of the True Tred Troop in a Pennsylvania town where they find unlimited opportunity for good scouting. Two runaway girls, who want to see the city, are reclaimed through troop influence. The story is correct in scout detail, and also furnishes an absorbing narrative.

THE GIRL SCOUTS AT BELLAIRE

    or Maid Mary’s Awakening

The story of a timid little maid who is afraid to take part in other girls’ activities, while working nobly alone for high ideals. How she was discovered by the Bellaire Troop and came into her own as “Maid Mary” makes a fascinating story.

THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST

    or The Wig Wag Rescue

Luna Land, a little island by the sea, is wrapt in a mysterious seclusion, and Kitty Scuttle, a grotesque figure, succeeds in keeping all others at bay until the Girl Scouts come. This volume furnishes a worth while story.

THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP COMALONG

    or Peg of Tamarack Hills

A story of the great outdoors in which the girls of Bobolink Troop spend their summer on the shores of Lake Hocomo. Their discovery of Peg, the mysterious rider of the blue roan “Whirlwind,” and the clearing up of her remarkable adventures afford a wholesome and vigorous plot.

A new series of stories by Alice B. Emerson which are bound to make this writer more popular than ever with her host of girl readers. Everyone will want to know Betty Gordon and all will love her.

BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM

    or The Mystery of a Nobody

At the age of twelve Betty is left an orphan in the care of her bachelor uncle, who sends her to live on a farm. Betty finds life at Bramble Farm exceedingly hard.

BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON

    or Strange Adventures in a Great City

In this volume Betty goes to the national capitol to find her uncle. She falls in with a number of strangers and has several unusual adventures.

BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL

    or The Farm That Was Worth a Fortune

From Washington the scene is shifted to the great oil fields of our country. A splendid picture of the oil field operations of to-day.

BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL

    or The Treasure of Indian Chasm

An up-to-date tale of school life. Betty made many friends but a jealous girl tried to harm her. Seeking the treasure of Indian Chasm makes an exceedingly interesting incident.

  Original publication data:

  Publisher: Cupples & Leon Company, New York

  Copyright: 1921, by Cupples & Leon Company

CHAPTER XXI—A SURPRISE INDEED

CHAPTER XXII—PEG OF TAMARACK HILLS