The girls gazed in wide-eyed surprise at their prostrate companion, and then, as they saw that she was not hurt, their sense of humor broke bounds, and they burst into merry peals of laughter, for she did look so comical sitting there with that “Where—am—I?” sort of look on her face.

But the Sport was too excited to mind bumps or laughter as she jumped up and peered above her head. “The rope has broken!” she exclaimed irritably. “Oh, if I could only get hold of that broken end up there,” her eyes leaped quickly around the barn, “I could ring the bell again. Oh, there’s a ladder!” With an alert spring she had grabbed it and then began to drag it under the tower.

The girls by this time had recovered from their unwonted merriment, and, feeling somewhat ashamed of leaving the Sport to work unaided, rushed to her assistance. They soon had the ladder resting against a broad beam that ran across the barn directly under the tower where the broken piece of rope still swung.

Up the ladder climbed Edith, high to the top, but alas, she was just a few inches short of touching the swaying rope, which she now perceived was fastened to a chain that hung from the bell.

“Oh, what will you do?” cried Helen, as the two girls stretched their necks almost off their shoulders to see if there was not some way out of the difficulty.

“I know what I will do,” exclaimed the Sport suddenly. “I will climb up on the beam, walk a few steps, and then I can reach it.”

“You will fall!” exclaimed Nathalie in nervous fear.

“Oh, no, she won’t,” called out Helen hastily. “You don’t know Edith; that’s an easy feat for her, for she’s a regular acrobat. But, Edith, be careful!” she finished, with sudden anxiety, as she saw the girl climb up on the beam and then lift herself upright.

Nathalie, with her breath held, watched Edith for a moment, and then as she saw her reach out to catch the dangling rope, she closed her eyes, thrilled in every nerve with silent terror for fear she would miss her footing.

But she didn’t, for when Nathalie opened her eyes just for a hurried peep, she saw Edith with the rope in her hand. The next instant she had bent to her task and a loud “Clang! Clang!” rang sharply out.

“One, two, three!” a moment’s pause, then, “One, two, three!” Twice this was repeated as the girls stood waiting below with their eyes fixed on the ringer’s every movement; Helen, fearful that she would become reckless and reach too far, while Nathalie obeyed an impulse she could not define and just watched in nervous tension.

Ah, she had dropped her arms and was looking down at the girls. “What are you standing there for, ninnies?” she emphasized with a stamp of her foot that sent a shiver of horror through Nathalie’s wildly beating heart. “Why don’t you go and get the engine out?”

“Oh, so we can,” rejoined Helen quickly. “I never thought! Come, you help me!” catching Nathalie by the arm.

Nathalie turned and followed Helen, who had swiftly run to the fire-engine, a newly painted affair, a box on wheels, standing in the rear of the fire-house. With an alert spring she was close at Helen’s heels, and in a moment more had grabbed one of the two ropes tied to the front axle. Helen, who stood with the other rope in her hand, now cried, “Quick, let’s run it out to the road!”

It rolled easily, and the two girls were just about to wheel it through the open door, when a man in a red shirt, leather hat, and his trousers tucked into his rubber boots dashed hurriedly up to them.

“Where’s the fire?” he panted. With heated face and eyes bulging excitement he seized the rope from Nathalie’s hand, and the next minute, with Helen’s help, had run the engine out into the road.

“The Methodist church is on fire!” yelled the Sport from her high perch on the beam, but there was no need to say more, for several other men had arrived, all in red shirts and firemen’s helmets, while others were seen racing from all directions towards the fire-house. In a few moments’ time a crowd had collected, each one bent in lending a hand, and all shouting with full vocal power as if they thought—so it seemed to Nathalie—their shouts would put out the fire.

In the midst of this clamorous din, another rubber-booted individual appeared, not only in fireman’s regalia, but with a big brass trumpet. On this he blew a mighty blast, and then with much gesticulation bellowed his orders to the men.

A final order from the chief, as the man with the trumpet proved to be, and the six or eight men holding the ropes of the engine started at breakneck speed down the hill. They were followed by a crowd of shouting men, women, hooting boys, and crying children, each one frenzied with excitement and with the avowed purpose of being first at the fire.

The girls, for by this time Edith had descended from her perilous perch, stood silent and watched the engine whiz down the slope leading to the town, the red-shirted firemen in front of it shouting angrily in their endeavors to stop the rear men from pushing it down on their heels too rapidly.

But Edith, who was never still two minutes if there was anything going on, with a wild, “Hoopla, I’m going to see the fire!” started in the wake of the hooting mob, running at a speed that soon made her one of the rank and file that went plunging down the hill.

Helen’s eyes followed the flying figure, and then, with a “Come on, don’t let the Sport outdo us!” she was racing after her. Nathalie, bewildered by this strange and novel experience that had leaped into her life, stood still, uncertain what to do. She felt a sudden abhorrence of mingling with the fire-crazed crowd that surged before her. Brought up to keep away from these spectacular affairs of the city, she felt she would be transgressing all laws of decorum if she followed her friends. But the impulse to do as the other Pioneers did spurred her on, and with a quick leap forward she cast all conventionalities to the wind, and started on a dead run to catch up with Helen.

The girls were too quick for her and she arrived in front of the church only to make one more of a densely packed crowd of fire-seekers standing opposite the burning building, wild-eyed and weirdly pale from the reflection of the flaming tongues of red, which darted upward with a licking greediness that made the wooden building crack and snap under their devouring greed.

Spying Edith a few feet away, she hastily pushed through the jam of people to her side, only to hear her scream frantically, “Look out, Nathalie!” But the warning came too late, for a shower of water had already struck her in the back with terrific force, almost bowling her over. Ugh! it was running down her back with such icy spray that she screamed aloud, and then shrank back as jeering laughter from those standing by greeted her mishap.

But their merriment was short-lived, as the water deluge came again and Nathalie saw the contortions that shot from face to face of her neighbors as with shrill cries they tried to dodge to one side in their frantic endeavors to escape. In the midst of the confusion some one suddenly bellowed, “Run for your lives, the hose has burst!”

There were more shouts of dismay from the crowd of struggling, fighting figures, and then they had scattered. Edith by this time had grabbed Nathalie by the hand and in a moment or so she was safe on a neighboring porch.

“O dear, what will they do?” lamented Edith. “That hose is the only one in town!” For a few moments it looked as if not only the church but the parsonage and the adjacent buildings were to fall victims to the blazing flames that swept upward and outward with shooting jets between tall columns of black rolling smoke.

“They are going to form a bucket brigade!” shouted Edith suddenly into Nathalie’s ear. The words had barely passed her lips when she dropped her companion’s cold fingers, and was racing with a crowd of men, women, and boys towards a pond a short distance away.

Nathalie stood still and gazed with suppressed excitement at this new development of the fire-crazed people. It seemed to her as if every one in Westport must have owned a bucket from the number of people that sped—as if magic swept—towards the pond, where a long line of human beings, with a deftness and quickness that amazed her, were already passing buckets from one to the other and then on to the firemen who formed a line across the road in front of the church.

Each fireman would grab a bucket, pass it on to his mate, who in turn passed it on to the next one, and so on, until its contents had been splashed on the seething flames. Then just as quickly it was shoved by way of another line back to the pond to be filled again and once more hurried on its journey of rescue.

“Come, get busy!” some one suddenly yelled at this crisis. “They are forming another line at the pump!” Nathalie swung about to see Fred Tyson holding out to her an empty bucket. The unexpectedness of this new demand upon her overwrought nerves tempted her to scurry to parts unknown, as she backed away from Fred with the startled exclamation, “O dear, no!”

Fred, realizing how she felt, looked down at her with a reassuring smile as he answered, “Come, you must help; you are a Pioneer—it will be a fine experience for you!” Nathalie, without a word, grabbed the bucket and in another second was running swiftly by the side of this new friend as he guided her to the pump.

An hour later Nathalie appeared at the corner of the street leading to her home. Weary, bedraggled, sooted from head to foot, and with gleaming beads of perspiration running over her face, she was still jubilant. She had been to a real fire, and, what is more, had helped to put it out. For the buckets had done their work, and although the church stood a framework of glowing embers, the parsonage and other buildings had been saved.

She was so glad when she saw she was nearing her home, that, as she informed Fred, who had accompanied her, she felt like dancing a jig on her head from sheer joy, although she was not only tired to the verge of distraction, but faint from hunger.

“Oh, and there’s Mother! I guess she’s been almost worried to death,” she exclaimed as she spied her mother standing on the veranda anxiously peering down the path.

“Well, I guess she has been almost worried to death!” exclaimed a voice, as a white-robed figure stepped out from the shadows of the trees on the lawn.

It was Lucille. “If it hadn’t been for me, Nathalie Page,” she emphasized with upheld finger, “your mother would have been down to the fire herself. She was sure you were the first one burned to death. Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Nathalie Page!” she averred indignantly.

But there was no need to lecture Nathalie further, for her heart had been thumping violently in nervous dread all the way home, and she was already scurrying up the walk to the stoop. “Oh, Mother,” she panted, “did you think something dreadful had happened to me?”

“Well, I was quite nervous about you for a time,” replied her mother rather cheerily for one who had been almost worried to death, as she put her arm around the tired girl. “Lucille obligingly started to look for you, and met Dr. Homer, who said you were all right, helping put the fire out as a bucket maiden. But, my dear, you are all wet, and hungry, too, I’ll warrant.”

“You just believe I am,” cried Nathalie. “But, oh, Mother, I have had such an adventurous day! Do let me have something to eat, for I’m just about starved, but, O dear, where’s Fred Tyson; he came home with me?”

Fred was all right, having the cosiest of chats with Lucille—whom all men adored from youth to old age—as they walked up the path to the veranda. Would he come in and have supper? Why, he guessed he would, for he hadn’t had a mouthful since noon.

“By the Lord Harry, is that you, Blue Robin?” spoke a voice from the couch as Nathalie ushered Fred into the hall. “Gee, but you are as black as a colored ‘pusson,’” quoth Dick, as he rose from the couch and hobbled towards her.

It was a most exciting supper, eagerly devoured by Fred and Nathalie, as between bites, with glowing eyes, each one told of her or his experience. Nathalie told of the ringing of the fire bell, the exploits of the Sport, and how she did duty at the pump.

“Oh, Mother, it has just been a regular red-letter day!” she cried at length, “and I’m never again going to despise Edith Whiton for being sporty, for if it hadn’t been for her, I just believe the whole town would have burned down!”

The second day after the fire was a Pioneer Rally day, a Camp Fund day it had been called, for it was at this meeting that the Pioneers were to decide upon the entertainments they proposed having in order to raise the money to pay the cost of two or three weeks at camp that summer. One or two affairs had been held during the winter and spring, so that a small nucleus had been banked, but if this was not increased the hearts of the Pioneers would be “wrung with woe,” as the Sport had put it.

After the usual formalities of the Rally were over, Mrs. Morrow called the names of those who for some meritorious act or word were to receive badges of merit. To Nathalie’s astonishment her name was called, and at a shove from Helen the dazed girl went forward, and received three white stars, one for suggesting the search-party and sticking to her colors in the face of discouragement, another for telling stories to Rosy, and the last for planning and getting up the Story Club. She received the stars, Mrs. Morrow explained, as badges of merit were not given until a Pioneer had passed all tests and was a member of the first order.

The Sport received two badges—being a first class Pioneer—one for winning a contest in wigwagging, and another for ringing the bell for the church fire. Helen was also the recipient of a badge for her planning and excellent supervision of the Flower hike, while the Scribe received one for her skill in editing the “Pioneer,” which had come to be a journal not only of news, but of information.

“And now,” cried their Director, as she finished distributing the badges, “I am going to talk about the Camping Fund. As you all know, we must have one or two entertainments to raise money for that purpose. Several ideas have been submitted in compliance with my request for suggestions from the girls, but unfortunately, while a number are very good, only a few will suit our purpose. There is one, however, that is both patriotic and colonial, but it would require a large lawn and I am at a loss what to say about it. I think you all understand that the Pioneer who suggests the best entertainment, although her name is to be kept secret until the end of the season, is to receive some kind of a reward.”

“Could we not ask Mrs. Van Vorst again if she would let us have her grounds?” ventured Louise Gaynor somewhat timidly, realizing that the lady in question was not in favor with the Pioneers because of her rather eccentric ways.

“Well, I should say not!” broke in Edith. “She has refused two or three times already, and if there is an insane person there—” She stopped abruptly, rebuked by a warning look from Mrs. Morrow.

“No, I do not think I would bother Mrs. Van Vorst again,” said that lady. “But suppose I name a committee to see if they cannot scour the town and find a lawn.” Helen, Louise, and Nathalie were then named to perform this duty.

During this discussion Nathalie’s eyes had sparkled with suppressed emotion as she remembered her visit to the gray house, accompanied by an overwhelming desire to tell what she knew. Oh, wouldn’t it create a sensation? But she had given her word, and like the Spartan boy, although desire was gnawing at her vitals, she kept still and smiled in evident ease.

“There is another entertainment that has been suggested,” continued the Director. “It is an excellent idea for it will put you all to work thinking. It is to be called Pioneer Stunts, which means that each one of you is to be responsible for a recitation, a tableau, a song, a playlet, in fact anything that is colonial or pioneer in character. Each Pioneer is to work out her own idea, and all ideas are to be kept secret until after the performance, when a vote will be taken as to the best stunt—that is, the best idea, and the stunt acted the best—and then the name of the author will be revealed.”

The girls received this notice with applause, and each one immediately began to suggest one thing and another until warned by Mrs. Morrow again that the ideas were to remain secrets. After some further discussion it was decided to have the Pioneer Stunts the first part of June, at Seton Hall, Mrs. Morrow suggesting that the girls make it a Rose party and serve ice-cream and strawberries on the lawn.

Nathalie came home very enthusiastic about the Pioneer Stunt entertainment, and immediately set to work to jot down the idea that had come to her at the Rally. In the midst of writing her mother joined her and sat down to sew.

“Oh, Mother,” exclaimed the girl happily, “I’m awfully busy.”

“And working very hard, I see,” interposed Mrs. Page, smiling at her daughter’s animated face, as she patted the sunburned arm resting on the table.

“Yes,” replied Nathalie, “I have an awful lot to do.” And then she told about the entertainment, and what she was planning. With a long drawn sigh she cried, “Oh, Mumsie, I’m learning a terrible lot of useful things.”

“I see you are,” assented her mother, “and I am proud of you.”

“Oh, but they have not been a bit easy!” The girl’s face grew grave. “Sometimes I have thought I would have to give right up, but I haven’t,” she added with an emphatic little nod. And then for the first time she told her mother about the motto, “I Can,” and what a great help she had found it.

“Yes, Daughter, every little thing Miss I Can has helped you to do has been an overcome.”

“Indeed they have been overcomes,” assented the girl with another emphatic shake of her brown head. “Washing dishes—oh, how I used to hate that job—now I don’t mind it so much; cooking, telling stories to Rosy, going to the fire, yes, and even getting up the Story Club. I have just braced up, and then the first thing I knew, presto! the job was done!

“Yes, they have all been overcomes,” repeated Nathalie, “but it will be all right if I only manage to earn—” She paused abruptly, suddenly remembering, as she saw the lines of worry about her mother’s mouth, that she and Dick had pledged themselves not to talk about his operation, or to hint that they were trying to save in any way for it. They had both been troubled when they realized that when an anxiety was mentioned her mother’s face lost its happy look and she became sad and worried.

“Yes,” added Mrs. Page, not noticing Nathalie’s sudden pause, “I have been watching you for some time grappling with these try-outs that have come into your life, but I have said nothing, for I wanted to see if you or they would conquer.”

“Oh, you dear Mumsie,” cried Nathalie joyously, jumping up and giving her mother a good hug. “Do you know, I felt dreadfully the other day to think you had not said one word of praise; not that I want to be praised all the time, but still a word now and then comes in handy, you know; makes one feel so goody-goody.” This was said laughingly.

Nathalie could not help feeling encouraged after this comforting talk with her mother; she felt as if she had conquered the whole world, that there was nothing she could not overcome. But the next morning such a big overcome, or try-out, as her mother had expressed it, appeared, that it sufficed to lessen the glory of her former victories.

Lucille was ill; she had retired to her bed with a fit of indigestion, and the planning for the Pioneer Stunt, the survey work that Nathalie and her committee were to do, all had to be laid aside as she was instituted head nurse in her cousin’s room.

“Oh, Mother,” she moaned dolefully, as she kissed her mother good-night, “Lucille has been dreadfully cross; nothing pleases her. It has been, ‘Oh, Nathalie, don’t let that wind blow on me! Didn’t I tell you I don’t like rice pudding! Oh, you’re the slowest poke!’ Oh, Mother—” there was a lump in the girl’s throat, “if I hadn’t felt so humiliated at being spoken to in that way, I just believe I would have given her a good shaking.”

“Never mind, Nathalie,” replied Mrs. Page consolingly, “just remember it is another overcome and have patience. She will soon be herself again, you know she has been terribly upset, as she expected to spend a few days with her friend and she is disappointed.”

“Of course, no one ever had a disappointment but Lucille!” exclaimed Nathalie irritably.

“Nathalie!” reproved her mother, with a quick glance at the girl.

“Oh, well, it’s so, Mumsie,” replied her daughter with the tears very near the surface, and then with another kiss she hurried to her bed.

“Have you got your Stunt written?” inquired Helen a few days later from her window as Nathalie sat writing on the veranda. She held her hand up and flourished a couple of typewritten pages as she spoke.

“No, I’m discouraged,” Nathalie lowered her voice. “Lucille has been ill, and I have been kept awfully busy waiting on her. Then when I finally managed to get time to go to the library to get some dates, I lost the whole thing.”

“What—the idea?”

“Yes, the idea, and everything. I had been in the library some time and had just finished. I did not discover my loss until I was almost home, so I hurried back, but the librarian knew nothing about it. I hunted until I was distracted, and then I came home; so that is the end of that. This morning I am trying to think up another one.”

“Couldn’t you remember it?” questioned Helen concernedly.

“No, I tried to, but I’ve been so busy it has just flown away.”

“Well, you are a lucky girl to have brains enough to have more than one idea in your head to write up. You should have seen the Sport; she was over here last night, the picture of unadulterated woe, for she could not even scare up one idea. She hung around trying to get some suggestions from me, but I just told her she would have to do her own work. She’s the best ever when it comes to anything in the way of sports, or any activity, but she will not use her brains. She has a few, at least.”

“If she would spend more time reading instead of—” Nathalie stopped with slightly reddened face, for here was another overcome to win. She was thoughtless at times, never having been disciplined, and so, without meaning any harm, she was apt to express her opinion too freely about the people around her. “Oh, well,” she ended lamely, “she is a good Sport; if it hadn’t been for her the other night the town would have burned down.”

“That’s true,” laughed Helen good-naturedly, and then with a wave of her typewritten pages she disappeared from the window, as Nathalie turned and with a dimpling face greeted Dr. Morrow, who had just driven up to visit Lucille.

“You haven’t come to see me this time,” she suggested archly.

“Oh, it’s half and half this time, Blue Robin, for I have come to ask—oh, it is a message from the princess.” The doctor lowered his voice cautiously as he noted Dick at the other end of the veranda. “She wants to know if you will make her another visit.”

Nathalie’s bright face sobered and an embarrassed silence followed as she vainly tried to think of something that would excuse her from the unpleasantness of having her eyes blindfolded again.

“Why, yes, I would like to go, only you see I am very busy just now, helping Mother and doing Pioneer work, and—”

“Yes, I see,” interrupted the doctor somewhat coldly, with a keen glance at Nathalie’s downcast face. “Then I will tell her you are busy.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” cried the girl in desperation. “It sounds—well—tell her I will come some time later.” She felt the blood rush to her face.

“Oh, I’ll manage to make her understand somehow,” answered the doctor. Nathalie sensed a note of disappointment in his voice, and then without further parley he hurried up the stairs to Lucille.

“Mother,” questioned Nathalie a few minutes later, for she had confided to her all about the adventure at the gray house, “do you think I ought to visit the princess again?” She then told what had transpired between her and the doctor.

“You must be your own judge, Nathalie,” replied Mrs. Page slowly. “I agree with you that it is a foolish thing for the child’s mother to ask you to visit her in this way, but perhaps she may be induced to change her mind. But, after all, Nathalie, it is a small thing to overcome”—Mrs. Page emphasized the word—“when you can give the little girl so much pleasure by going.”

“O dear!” thought Nathalie, as she stood waiting for the doctor to come down-stairs a moment or so later, “it does seem that since I have become a Pioneer I am just overcoming things all the time. Funny, but these things never troubled me before.” “Oh, Doctor,” she exclaimed eagerly, as that gentleman’s genial face appeared in the doorway, “I have changed my mind, and if you like I will go with you to see the princess.”

An hour later Nathalie was greeted with a cry of delight from her new friend, who clapped her hands and called, “Oh, Mother, she has come!” Nathalie, imprisoned behind the muffler, rejoiced at heart to think she had won another overcome.

“How do you do?” spoke Mrs. Van Vorst’s low voice, and then the girl’s hand was taken in a cordial clasp. “It is so good of you to come; oh, if you could only realize the joy you have brought into my child’s life, and mine, too!” she added quickly.

“I am very glad,” replied Nathalie simply, as Mrs. Van Vorst led her to a seat by the couch.

“Here, sit by me—no, not on that chair,” commanded her Royal Highness. Nathalie felt a tug at her skirt, she was jerked suddenly down, and then two arms were thrown around her neck. A hand touched her face, softly at first, and then with a loud, “There, you are not going to sit with that horrid thing on your face again, I just hate it!” there came a sudden wrench, something gave way, the blinders were on the floor, and Nathalie was looking at the face of the princess with free, untrammeled eyes!