CHAPTER XIV.
IN CAMP
Several miles from Lloydsboro Valley, where a rapid brook runs by theruins of an old paper-mill, a roaring waterfall foams and splashes. Evenin the long droughts of midsummer it is green and cool there, for thespray, breaking on the slippery stones, freshens the ferns on the bank,and turns its moss to the vivid hue of an emerald. Near by, in an openpasture, sloping down from a circle of wooded hills, lies an ideal spotfor a small camp.
It was here that Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison came one warm afternoon, theMonday following the entertainment, with a wagonette full of children.Ranald, Malcolm, Keith, and Rob Moore had ridden over earlier in the dayto superintend the coloured men who dug the trenches and pitched thetents. By the time the wagonette arrived, fuel enough to last a week waspiled near the stones where the camp-fire was laid, and everything was inreadiness for the gay party. Flags floated from the tent poles, andDinah, the young coloured woman who was to be the cook, came up from thespring, balancing a pail of water on her head, smiling broadly.
As the boys and girls swarmed out and scurried away in every directionlike a horde of busy ants, Mrs. Walton turned to her sister with a laugh."Did we lose any of them on the way, Allison? We'd better count noses."
"No, we are all here: eight girls, four boys, the four already on thefield, Dinah and her baby, and ourselves, twenty in all."
"Twenty-one, counting Hero," corrected Mrs. Walton, as the great St.Bernard went leaping after Lloyd, sniffing at the tents, and barkingoccasionally to express his interest in the frolic. "He seems to beenjoying it as much as any of us."
"I wish that they were all as able to take care of themselves as he is. Itwould save us a world of anxiety. Do you begin to realise, Mary, what aload of responsibility we have taken on our shoulders? Sixteen boys andgirls to keep out of harm's way for a week in the woods is no easymatter."
"We'll keep them so busy that they'll have no time for mischief. Thewagonette isn't unloaded yet. Wait till you see the games I've brought,and the fishing-tackle. There's an old curtain that can be hung betweenthose two trees any time we want to play charades."
"Swing that hammock over there, Ranald," she called, nodding to a clump oftrees near the spring. "Then some of you boys can carry this chest back toDinah." She pointed to the old army mess-chest, that always accompaniedthem on their picnics and outings.
"The Ogre can do that," said the Little Captain, nodding toward Joe Clark,who stood leaning lazily against a tree.
"Do it yourself, Frog-Eye Fearsome," retorted Joe, at the same time comingforward to help carry the chest to the place assigned it.
"They'll never be able to get away from those names," said Miss Allison."Well, what is it, my Princess Winsome?" she asked, as Lloyd came runningup to her.
"Please take care of these for me, Miss Allison," answered Lloyd, holdingout Hero's shoulder-bags, which she had just taken from him. "I put on histhings when we started, for mothah says nobody evah knows what's goin' tohappen in camp, and we might need those bandages." Tumbling them into MissAllison's lap, she was off again in breathless haste, to follow the othergirls, who were exploring the tents, and exclaiming over all the queermake-shifts of camp life. Then they raced down to the waterfall, and,taking off shoes and stockings, waded up and down in the brook. Theseearly fall days were as warm as August, so wading was not yet one of theforbidden pastimes. They splashed up and down until the Little Captain'sbugle sent a ringing call for their return to camp. Katie was one of thelast to leave the water. Lloyd waited for her while she hurriedly lacedher shoes, and as they followed the others she said, in a confidentialtone, "Do you think you are goin' to like to stay out heah till nextSata'day?"
"Like it!" echoed Katie, "I could stay here a year!"
"But at night, I mean. Sleepin' in those narrow little cots, with nothin'ovah ou' heads but the tents, and no floah. Ugh! What if a snake or aliz'ad should wiggle in, and you'd heah it rustlin' around in the grassundah you! There's suah to be bugs and ants and cattahpillahs. I like campin the daylight, but it would be moah comfortable to have a house to sleepin at night. I wish I could wish myself back home till mawnin'."
"I don't mind the bugs and spiders," said Katie, recklessly, "and you'dbetter not let the boys find out that you do, or they'll never stopteasing you."
A bountifully spread supper-table met their sight as they reached thecamp. It had been made by laying long boards across two poles, which weresupported by forked stakes driven into the ground. The eight girls made arush for the camp-stools on one side of the table, and the eight boysgrabbed those on the other side.
"Don't have to have no manners in the woods," remarked little FreddyNicholls, straddling his stool, and beginning his supper, regardless ofthe knife and fork beside his plate. "That's what I like about campingout. You don't have to wait to have things handed to you, but can dip inand get what you want like an Injun."
Lloyd looked at him scornfully as she daintily unfolded her paper napkin.She nodded a decided yes when Katie whispered, "Aren't boys horrid andgreedy!" Then she corrected herself hastily. She had seen Malcolm wait topass a dish of fried chicken to his Aunt Allison before helping himself,and heard Ranald apologise to his next neighbour for accidentally jogginghis elbow. "Not all of them," she replied.
It added much to Betty's interest in the meal to know that the cup fromwhich she drank, and the fork with which she ate, had been used by realsoldiers, and carried from one army post to another many times in thetravel-worn old mess chest.
Little Elise was the only one who did not give due attention to hersupper. She sat with a cooky in her hand, looking off at the hills withdreamy eyes, until her mother spoke to her.
"I am trying to make some poetry like Betty did," she answered. Ever sincethe play her thoughts seemed trying to twist themselves into rhymes, andshe was constantly coming up to her mother with a new verse she had justmade.
"Well, what is it, Titania?" asked Mrs. Walton, seeing from the gleam ofsatisfaction in the black eyes that the verse was ready.
"It's all of our names," she said, shyly, waving her hand toward the girlson her side of the table.
"Betty, Corinne, and Lloyd, Margery, Kitty, and Kate, Allison and Elise all together make eight."
"Oh, that's easy," said Rob. "You just strung a lot of names together.Anybody can do that."
"You do it, then," proposed Kitty. "Make a verse with the boys' names init."
"Malcolm, Ranald, and Rob, Jamie, Freddy, Keith," he began, boldly, thenhesitated. "There isn't any rhyme for Keith."
"Change them around," suggested Malcolm. The girls would not help, and thewhole row of boys floundered among the names for a while, unwilling to bebeaten by the youngest member of the party, and a girl, at that. Finally,by their united efforts and a hint from Miss Allison, they succeeded.
"Malcolm, Ranald, and Rob, Keith and Freddy, and James, Joe the Ogre, and George. Those are the boys' eight names."
"Let's make a law," suggested Kitty, "that nobody at the table can sayanything from now on till we are through supper, unless they speak inrhymes."
They all agreed, but for a few minutes no one ventured a remark. Onlygiggles broke the silence, until Allison asked Freddy Nicholls to pass thepickles. Recorded here in a book, it may seem a very silly game, but tothe jolly camping party, ready to laugh at even the sheerest nonsense, itproved to be the source of much fun. Even Freddy, to his own greatdelight, surprised himself and the company by asking Elise to take somecheese. Joe was thrown into confusion by Kitty's asking him if flesh,fowl, or fish, was his favourite dish. As he could only nod his head, hehad to pay a forfeit, and Keith answered for him by saying, "That's not afair question to Joe. An ogre eats all things, you know." So it went onuntil Mrs. Walton said:
"Now all who are able, may rise from the table. The camp-fire's burning bright. Spread rugs on the ground, and gather around, And we'll all tell tales in its light."
"This is the jolliest p
art of it all!" exclaimed Keith, a little later,as, stretched out on a thick Indian blanket, he looked around on thecircle of faces, glowing in the light of the leaping fagot-fire. Twilighthad settled on the camp. The tumbling of the waterfall over the rocks madea subdued roar in the background. An owl called somewhere from the depthsof the woods. As the dismal "Tu-whit, tu who-oo" sounded through thegloaming, Lloyd glanced over her shoulder with a shudder.
"Ugh!" she exclaimed. "It looks as if the witch's orchard might be therebehind us, with all sorts of snaky, crawlin' things in it. Come heah,Hero. Let me put my back against you. It makes me feel shivery to eventhink of such a thing!"
The dog edged nearer at her call, and she snuggled up against his tawnycurls with a feeling of warmth and protection.
"Wish I had a dog like that," said Jamie, fondly stroking the silky earthat was nearest him. "I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for him if Ihad."
"Money couldn't buy Hero!" exclaimed Lloyd.
"Now what would you do," said Kitty, who was always supposing impossiblethings, "if some old witch would come to you and say, 'You may have yourchoice? a palace full of gold and silver and precious stones and give upHero, or keep him and be a beggar in rags?"
"I'd be a beggah, of co'se!" cried Lloyd, warmly, throwing her arm aroundthe dog's neck. "Think I'd go back on anybody that had saved my life? ButI wouldn't stay a beggah," she continued. "I'd put on the Red Cross too,and we'd go away where there was war, Hero and I, and we'd spend ou' livestakin' care of the soldiahs. I wouldn't have to dress in rags, for I'dweah the nurse's costume, and I'd do so much good that some day, may be,somebody would send me the Gold Cross of Remembrance, as they did ClaraBarton, and I'm suah that I'd rathah have that, with all it means, thanall the precious stones and things that the witch could give me."
"When did Hero save your life?" asked Joe, who had not heard the story ofthe runaway in Geneva.
"Tell us all about it, Lloyd," asked Mrs. Walton. So Lloyd began, and thegroup around the fire listened with breathless attention. And that wasfollowed by the Major's story, and all he had told her of St. Bernarddogs, and of the Red Cross service. Then the finding of the Major by hisfaithful dog on the dark mountain after the storm. Betty's turn came next.She repeated some of the stories they had heard on shipboard. Mrs. Waltonadded her part afterward, telling her personal experience with the RedCross work in Cuba and the Philippines.
"That is one reason I took such a deep interest in your littleentertainment," she said, "and was so pleased when it brought so muchmoney. I know that every penny under the wise direction of the Red Crosswill help to make some poor soldier more comfortable; or if some suddencalamity should come in this country, before it was sent away, your littlefund might help to save dozens of lives."
The fire had burned low while they talked, and Elise was yawning sleepily.Miss Allison looked at her watch. "How the time has flown!" she exclaimedin surprise. "Where is the bugler of this camp? It is high time for him toplay taps."
Ranald ran for his bugle, and the clear call that he had learned to playwhen he was "The Little Captain," in far-away Luzon, rang out into thedark woods. It was answered by the same silvery notes. Mrs. Walton andMiss Allison looked at each other in surprise, for the reply was no echo,but the call of a real bugle, somewhere not far away.
"Oh, we forgot to tell you, Aunt Mary," said Malcolm, noting the surprisedglance, "It's a regiment of the State Guard, in camp over by Calkin'sCliff. We boys were over there this morning. They made a big fuss over uswhen they found that Ranald was General Walton's son and we were hisnephews. They wanted us to stay to dinner, and when they found out thatyou were coming to camp here, the Colonel said be wanted to come over hereand call. He used to know you out West."
"Colonel Wayne," repeated Mrs. Walton, when Malcolm finally remembered thename. "We knew him when he was only a young cadet at West Point. TheGeneral was very fond of him, and I shall be glad to see him again."
"They'll be interested in Hero," said Ranald. "Maybe they'll want to trainsome war dogs for our army if they set him at work. Do you suppose he hasforgotten his training, Lloyd? Let's try him in the morning."
"You can make a great game of it," suggested Mrs. Walton. "Rig up one ofthe tents for a hospital. Some of the boys can be wounded soldiers andsome of the girls nurses."
"All but me," said Lloyd. "I'll have to be an officer to give the ordahs.He only knows the French words for that, and the Majah taught them to me."
"What can we use for the brassards and costumes?" said Kitty.
"Elise has an old red apron in the clothes-hamper that we can cut up forcrosses," said Mrs. Walton, always ready for emergencies. "But now to yourtents, every man of you, or you'll never be ready to get up in themorning."
It was hard to go to sleep in the midst of such strange surroundings, andmore than once Lloyd started up, aroused by the hoot of an owl, or thethud of a bat against the side of the tent. Not until she reached out andlaid her hand on the great St. Bernard stretched out beside her cot, didshe settle herself comfortably to sleep. With the touch of his soft curlsagainst her fingers, she was no longer afraid.
When the officers came into the camp next day, they found the children inthe midst of their new game. It was some time before their attention wasattracted to it, for the Colonel was one of the men who had followedGeneral Walton on his long, hard Indian campaign, and there were manyquestions to be asked and answered, about mutual friends in the army.
Hero was not making a serious business of the game, but was entering intoit as if it were a big frolic. He could not make believe as the boyscould, who played at soldiering. But the old words of command, uttered, inthe Little Colonel's high, excited voice, sent him bounding in thedirection she pointed, and the prostrate forms he found scattered aboutthe sham battle field, seemed to quicken his memory. Mrs. Walton presentlycalled the officer's attention to the efforts Hero was making to recallhis old lessons, and briefly outlined his history.
"I believe he would remember perfectly," said the Colonel, watching himwith deep interest, "if we were to take him over to our camp, and try himamong the regular uniformed soldiers. Of course our accoutrements are notthe kind he has been accustomed to, but I think they would suggest them.At least the smell of powder would be familiar, and the guns and canteensand knapsacks might awaken something in his memory that would revive hisentire training. I should like very much to make the experiment."
After some further conversation, Lloyd was called up to meet theofficers, and it was agreed that Hero should be taken over to the camp fora trial on the day the sham battle was to take place.
"The day has not yet been definitely determined," said the Colonel, "butI'll send you word as soon as it is. By the way, my orderly was once ayoung French officer, and often talks of the French army. He'll welcomeHero like a long-lost brother, for he has a soft spot in his heart foranything connected with his motherland. Ill send him over either thisevening or to-morrow."
That evening the orderly rode over to bring word that the sham battlewould take place the following Thursday, and they were all invited towitness it. Hero's trial would take place immediately after the battle.While he stood talking to Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison, Lloyd and Kittycame running down the hill with Hero close behind them.
The orderly turned with an exclamation of admiration as the dog cametoward him, and held out his hand with a friendly snap of the fingers."Ah, old comrade," he called out in French, in a deep, hearty voice."Come, give me a greeting! I, too, am from the motherland."
At sound of the familiar speech, the dog went forward, wagging his tailviolently, as if he recognised an old acquaintance. Then he stopped andsnuffed his boots in a puzzled manner, and looked up wistfully into theorderly's face. It was a stranger he gazed at, yet voice, speech, andappearance were like the man's who had trained him from a puppy, and hegave a wriggle of pleasure when the big hand came down on his head, andthe deep voice spoke caressingly to him.
When the orderly mounted his
horse. Hero would have followed had not theLittle Colonel called him sharply, grieved and jealous that he should showsuch marked interest in a stranger. He turned back at her call, but stoodin the road, looking after his new-found friend, till horse and riderdisappeared down the bridle-path that led through the deep woods to theother camp.