A week had passed, and although the novelty of many of the activities and pleasures of this life in the open had dulled, every moment proved one of joy. Drills, contests, sports, hikes, and various entertainments had merged so evenly, one into the other, that tasks had lost their irksomeness and play had received an added zest.

To be sure, some unfortunate accidents had happened; Grace had cut her hand when opening a can of tomatoes, Carol had been stung by some mysterious insect so severely that even the doctor was puzzled, and one of the Orioles had sprained her ankle. But these mishaps had been received with true camp fortitude—the Pioneer spirit, Helen called it—and had only served as object lessons in the First Aid to the Injured talks given by Dr. Morrow, thus giving Helen and Kitty a chance to display their expertness in the triangular, the four-tailed, and many other kinds of bandages.

Hammers, saws, and hatchets were in great demand one morning—the girls all busy making stilts, some to show their scout friends that they could handle men’s tools, while others were qualifying for first-class Pioneers—when Lillie appeared. With woebegone face she reported to Nathalie, who was serving as her assistant on the Grub committee, that there was no milk.

“No milk?” ejaculated the girl. “Why, wasn’t the milkman here this morning?”

“Sure,” nodded Lillie, “but that Oriole girl—Nannie Plummer—dropped some swill into the milk can. She mistook it for the garbage pail—” Lillie’s eyes glinted humorously—“she was so busy expressing her admiration for that Will Hopper, you know the scout with the languishing eyes, as Helen calls them.”

Nathalie’s face expressed dismay. “Oh, what shall we do?” she almost wailed; “we have got to have milk for that pudding, and—”

“To be sure,” laconically returned Lillie, “and you will have to go and get some.”

“Get some?” echoed Nathalie faintly; “where?”

“At the farm-house, you know the place—with the red barn—on the road to Boonton.”

“But there isn’t time for me to walk there and back before dinner,” protested the girl somewhat wrathfully, “on this hot day, too!”

“No, but you can take Edith’s bicycle, and go and get back in no time.”

“Oh, but it is hot!” ejaculated Nathalie, some fifteen minutes later, as with reddened, perspiring face she slowed up her wheel, and spying a mossy bank overlooking a brook meandering beneath a group of willows, jumped to the ground. As she was standing her wheel against a tree, a woman with a reddish handkerchief tied over her head came up the bank. She started when she saw Nathalie, but instantly averting her eyes hurried on down the road in the direction of the farm-house where Nathalie was to get the milk.

The girl had thrown herself on the grassy slope and was fanning vigorously with her hat, when her eyes were arrested by something white lying under an overhanging bush near the brook. Perhaps she would not have stared so intently if she had not thought that she saw it move. Just at that moment a low wailing cry came to her ears.

Assured beyond doubt that the cry came from the bundle, she hurried down the slope, and a moment later was bending over a baby, who, on seeing the wondering face, looked up with innocent appeal in its wide blue eyes.

“Why, you dear,” cooed the girl, “how did you come here?” She looked up expecting to see some one to whom the baby belonged, but as there was no one in sight and she saw the little lip quiver pathetically, she gathered it up in her arms and chucking the dimpled chin began to jabber to it in baby language.

“Whom do you belong to, baby?” she questioned aloud, silently wondering if that tramp woman who had come up the bank could have been its mother. But that could hardly be, she pondered, for she looked like an Italian, while the baby was fair with tiny wisps of golden hair straying from beneath its neat white cap.

Reminded finally that the camp’s need of milk was urgent, she laid the baby down and ran along the bank first in one direction, and then the other, shouting and calling until her voice was hoarse. O dear, what should she do? She could not leave that dear thing there alone! Ah, she would take it with her to the farm-house, perhaps Mrs. Hansen might know something about it.

Carrying her find with one arm and trundling her wheel with the other hand, she arrived in a short space at her destination. But alas, she met with no satisfaction. Mrs. Hansen declared that in all probability the woman was a gypsy, as there was a settlement of them some miles beyond the town and that she had purposely deserted the baby. She also informed the girl in a most emphatic manner that she could not leave the child there as she had enough of her own to look after.

“But this is a white baby,” persisted Nathalie, “see, it is very fair!” showing the little puckered face, for by this time it had begun to whimper quite loudly.

“Poor waif!” exclaimed the farmer’s wife, “it is hungry!” Hastily getting a cup of milk she put it to the mouth of the little one, whose fingers closed on it tightly as it drank greedily.

But feeding the baby did not soften Mrs. Hansen’s heart, and Nathalie was forced to see that there was nothing else to do but to carry the deserted one to camp with her. But how could she trundle a wheel, carry a five-quart can of milk, and the baby all at the same time? Poor Nathalie! she was in deep waters!

Mrs. Hansen, however, who was not unkindly, seeing the girl’s dilemma called her boy Joe, and giving him the milk and wheel told him to hurry with it to the camp, so that Nathalie would have her arms free to carry her charge.

Some time after the dinner hour Nathalie, tired, hot, hungry, and every muscle aching from weariness, arrived at the camp. She was immediately surrounded by the girls, who besieged her with questions as to the why and wherefore of her tardy appearance. But when their eyes lighted on the blue-eyed cherub, who had been blissfully sleeping the greater part of the girl’s three-mile tramp on a sunny road, they went wild with excitement.

Mrs. Morrow presently arrived on the scene and promptly driving Nathalie’s tormentors away, handed the infant to Ellen and Nita. Then she made the girl lie down in the hammock to cool off, while Helen and Grace rushed off to get her dinner.

As the girl, between bites, told of her strange adventure, she saw that it was not to prove as disastrous as she feared, for the little stranger had already captivated every member of the camp, even down to Peter, also Rosy, Mrs. Van Vorst’s black cook. Indeed, it was petted, hugged, and kissed so many times that Mrs. Morrow, fearing it would be brought to evil by so many caressing hands, then and there made rules as to how each girl should care for it.

They all declared that Nathalie’s finding that baby was providential, for one of the Pioneers that very morning had expressed the wish that they could find a baby in one of the farm-houses. They wanted to practice bathing and dressing it, as these were some of the qualifications necessary for a first-class Pioneer.

Although notices were posted in the post-offices of the towns, and also sent to several newspapers, advertising the fact that a baby had been found and was at Camp Laff-a-Lot, no one claimed it. The girls were delighted as they were enamored of their new toy, each one secretly hoping it could remain with them.

The girls had even begun to discuss the project of calling it the Girl Pioneer baby, and were deep in plans to raise money so they could have it taken care of and educated as such, when Mrs. Van Vorst avowed that if no mother appeared to claim it she would adopt it as her own.

This of course took away the girls’ hopes of having the little one for their own, as who could deny Mrs. Van Vorst and Nita what they so eagerly desired and what they were so able to do? In the meantime, Miss Camphelia—for so she had been christened—cooed, gurgled, and dimpled with delight at each new mother who bathed and dressed her in silent adoration of the tyrant of the camp.

Nathalie stirred restlessly, jumbled up her pillow, and then flopped over with a sigh. O dear, why couldn’t she go to sleep? It was not near time to get up!

“Nathalie Page, what ails you?” came in exasperated tone from the other bed. “You have been wiggling, bouncing, jumping, and sighing like a porpoise for half the night. For pity’s sake do go to sleep!”

Nathalie made no reply, assured that if she did she would betray what a baby she was.

“What does ail you anyway?” persisted Helen in a softer tone. “Have you been doing the green-apple act like Carol, and—”

“Oh, it’s just Nita,” replied the girl dolefully. “You see it is this way, Helen. I told Mrs. Van Vorst that if Nita could mingle with girls about her own age it would do her a world of good.” Nathalie sat up in bed and began to hug her knees. “So, you see, I feel responsible in a measure to see that she gets a good time, but dear me, she is just having a horrible time!”

“How do you know?” questioned Helen, “she—”

“Oh, the poor little thing mopes and cries all the time. She won’t admit it, but she doesn’t want me out of her sight. Really, Helen, I know it is selfish when she is so afflicted—” Nathalie’s voice quavered, “but I do want a bit of fun myself sometimes.”

“Well, I should say!” was Helen’s ejaculation. “But I wouldn’t worry over it. She’s selfish, that’s all, and shouldn’t be encouraged. I have noticed that she is terribly offish with the girls, and they are half afraid to be pleasant with her.”

“Oh, she does not mean to be offish, as you say,” answered Nathalie quickly, “she is shy, and sensitive. I think she imagines the girls do not care for her because she is a humpback. If there was only some way by which she could become better acquainted with the girls, and give them a chance to know her better! She’s an awfully bright little thing, and I know she would be a prime favorite, for there’s lots of fun in her. She’s just pining—well—for love.”

“Humph!” came from Helen, “she gets enough of it from her mother and Ellen; they spoil her.”

“Yes, I know, but that is what she doesn’t want—mother-coddling. What she wants is to come out here and kick around as one of us in a rough and tumble way. Then she would get over her sensitiveness, but somehow I can’t seem to manage it.”

There was silence for a moment as both girls fell to thinking. All at once Helen bounced up in bed crying, “There, Nathalie, I have nailed it!”

“Nailed it?” repeated her companion. “Why—”

“Oh, you know what I mean, I mean about Nita. Now listen to Solon the Wise. You get Nita to come and sleep in this tent—”

“Where, on the floor?” inquired Nathalie teasingly.

“You know what I mean—on my cot. I’ll take her room. Then you drill her to take her part with the other girls, and so on, just as if she were one of us. In three days I’ll come back and take my turn with her, and you take my place. Then in three days again let Lillie take a turn, and so on until the turns have gone the rounds, each girl being her tent-mate for three days. In that way she will become acquainted and have a chance to get in with us.”

“Oh, Helen, you are the brightest—but suppose she won’t come?”

“Won’t be your tent-mate? Why, she worships the ground you walk on! That’s one thing that ails her, Nathalie, she’s jealous of the girls, because in a way she is outside of it all. Get her into harness like the rest of us and in ten days’ time she’ll be like another girl, or you can shut me up for a lunatic.”

Nathalie, as soon as possible after the morning conference, had a little talk with her Director, and finding that she agreed with Helen, sought Mrs. Van Vorst and laid before her the new plan. Of course she found that she had a number of objections to fight from that lady, but eventually she won, and it was decided that for the rest of the time in camp Nita Van Vorst was to be lost to her mother’s bungalow, for to her unbounded joy she was to be one of the girls!

It was bathing hour, and Nathalie, with bugle in hand, was patroling the beach, keeping her brain and eyes keenly alert, for some of the girls were careless, and would swim out beyond the raft.

Carol was giving her considerable trouble, for having just mastered the art of swimming she had become very daring, doing her best to “show off” before the girls. Her companions had promised to keep an eye on her, but Nathalie knew that when they were sporting about in the water they were apt to forget their duty.

Her eyes swept from one group to the other. Ah, the Sport was swimming out to the raft! How well she looked in that red cap, and what a beautiful swimmer she was, so free and graceful in her movements! Hearing a sudden cry, as she thought, Nathalie turned and glanced at Carol. Good! she had stopped her antics of pretending she was sinking. Her eyes again wandered to Edith, why where was she? There was her red cap bobbing on the water, what new trick was she up to now? She had thrown up her arms. Oh, was she screaming? Pshaw, she was just fooling as usual, what a plague she was!

Nathalie strained her eyes, why, yes, she was screaming! she had gone down again! Just a moment, and then as Nathalie saw the red cap bob up again and heard another piercing shriek, she realized that Edith was drowning! Nathalie’s brain spun like a wheel—what should she do—she glanced helplessly around. Where was Helen?

“Edith is drowning!” she tried to shriek, but her voice sounded faint, as if far away. O God! and then she remembered. Up went her bugle and two loud blasts—the danger signal that some one was drowning—rang sharply over the water.

Just a moment, and then with a sudden swirl through the air, Nathalie had leaped into the water, and with long, swift strokes swam towards the spot where she had seen the red cap go down! Ah, she was almost there! As Edith threw up her arms again with another frenzied scream, for help, Nathalie grabbed her under the shoulders. But Edith, with a hysterical cry, threw her arms around her neck. Oh, she was dragging her down!

Nathalie regained control of herself, and was frantically beating back the clutching arms. She had swung her around; she tried to get a firmer grip, but a nameless fear was pinching her heart. She felt her strength was giving out! Then she heard Helen’s voice crying, “Don’t lose your hold, Nathalie, we’re almost there!”

Edith was so heavy; Nathalie tried to tighten her grip; she was more quiet now. Oh, could it be? She heard the purling of water and saw, but dimly, something dark moving towards her. Oh, if they would only hurry? Some one had caught hold of Edith and was dragging—

When Nathalie regained her consciousness it was to hear Mrs. Morrow’s voice crying, “Poor little Blue Robin!” She opened her eyes to see the doctor bending over her while Mrs. Morrow peeped over his shoulder with a cheery smile. “Edith?” she gasped, making an attempt to rise.

“As snug as a bug in a rug,” rejoined the doctor promptly, “and you will be, too, if you will drink this.”

Nathalie meekly obeyed. She was so tired, would she ever get rested? But she did, and a few hours later was half sitting up on her cot supported by pillows, surrounded by a group of sober-faced girls all eagerly listening as she told how it came about. “If she hadn’t gripped me so hard,” she ended as she sank back on the pillows, beginning to feel tired again, “I could have managed.” Then suddenly a queer little smile curved her mouth and drawing Helen down to her she whispered softly, “Helen, do you remember the day Edith ducked us when we were off in the boat, and how I declared I would get even?” Her friend nodded gravely. “Well,” said Nathalie, still with that queer little smile, “I have got one on her, haven’t I?”

A cheer fire was in progress, and a noisy one at that. The Pioneers had spent the afternoon and evening of the previous day over at the camp across the Lake at an entertainment called Scout Day, given in their honor by their friends.

Certainly it had been a most wonderful Scout Day, for there had been scouts saluting the colors, giving calls, making signals, lighting fires, and building shacks, tepees, and miniature log huts. Scouts, too, had engaged in all kinds of drills, contests, and races, such as tilting jousts, hand-wrestling, spear fighting and sham battles. And the games! They were a revelation to the girls in the uniqueness and cleverness of the ideas displayed. They had found, too, that scouts knew how to cook the very things dear to a camper’s heart, and sing—well, about every war and camp song known.

The Camp Circus presented the ludicrous side of these knights of chivalry, as they did clown stunts, causing the girls to laugh immoderately. After supper had come a firefly dance, which made strong appeal to the weird and mystic in every girl’s nature, as they watched the scouts swing about the blazing light in strange and grotesque evolution.

Perhaps the best was the scouts on the water, when, with a flotilla of row-boats and canoes decorated with the figures of paper animals, and brilliantly aglow with Japanese lights they glided over the water, the motion of the boats making the lights look like fireflies dancing in the air.

The jolly times given by the scouts must be returned! When, how, and where, were the three questions causing no little agitation, when Carol, with a white, frightened face, leaped into their midst crying, “Oh, girls, the baby has a fit!”

On hearing this startling statement some of the girls began to cry, others jumped up and wrung their hands frantically, while a few made a wild dash for Mrs. Van Vorst’s bungalow. Helen fortunately kept cool, and, perceiving that a panic would ensue, seized her bugle and blew it quickly.

This halted the stampede, arrested the hysterical ones midway between a sob and a cry, and caused a sudden quiet to fall, as she cried, in a loud clear voice, “Girls, keep perfectly still. Nathalie Page, Edith Whiton, and Lillie Bell, I appoint a committee of three to go and see if Carol’s report is so, and whether our services are needed. And please, Pioneers,” she called out as the three girls sprang on their feet, “one of you girls come back and let us know how things are progressing, as we shall all be anxious to know.”

The next moment the three girls were running swiftly after Carol, who, immediately after delivering her news, had started to run back to the bungalow.

“Now, girls,” continued Helen, “let us go on talking. Of course we are all worried, for we just love that baby!” she paused for a second, “but we can’t all help. Mrs. Morrow will let us know if we can do anything, so in the meantime, let us go on thinking up ideas.”

A cheer greeted this speech as a tribute to their leader’s level head and courage, for this was not the first time that she had preserved her poise, and held the scales when unduly weighted on the wrong side.

Yes, it was true, little Camphelia was writhing in convulsions on Mrs. Morrow’s lap, while Mrs. Van Vorst bent over her with agitated movements, applying with Ellen’s help hot water, and mustard, and such remedies as were available at the moment.

Nathalie touched Mrs. Van Vorst softly on the arm, “Is there anything we girls can do?” Her eyes were big with anxious fear.

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied that lady distractedly; “if the doctor were only here!”

“Blue Robin, is that you?” asked Mrs. Morrow quickly, as she heard Nathalie’s voice. “Oh, we must have help! How unfortunate the doctor had to go to the city to-day! But, Nathalie, can’t you send a wireless to Dr. Homer? Tell him to come immediately, for the baby is very ill!”

But Nathalie was already out of the sound of her voice, as with quick, light steps she ran to the girls who, with white distressed faces, awaited her on the veranda. “Mrs. Morrow says to send a wireless to Dr. Homer over at camp,” she explained hurriedly, “but I am afraid we won’t get him, as the wireless hours are nine, twelve and eight, and it is not eight yet.”

“Oh, yes it is,” returned Lillie, “five minutes to eight,” looking up from her little wrist-watch in its leather bandlet. “I’m sure we shall catch him.”

The girls hurried to the boat-house and climbed up to the little cupola, where Dr. Morrow, on first coming to camp, had installed his wireless apparatus. The Pioneers had been somewhat mystified by this procedure, wondering of what use a wireless would be to him up there in those woods. But the doctor had soon demonstrated that it was not only one of the most useful things about camp, but one of the most entertaining.

He had not only been able to discuss with his fellow physician across the lake many professional questions that he came across in his medical books now and then, or letters from his colleague in Westport, who had charge of some of his important cases, but at times had been able to give valuable advice to the younger physician when dealing with some refractory or eccentric scout.

But the doctor had done more than this, for he had gathered the four older girls, Helen, Edith, Lillie, and Nathalie together, and given them lessons in wireless telegraphy, so that they were soon glibly talking about ether waves, spark-coils, condensers, tuners, keys, and so on, in a way that proved his lessons had been well learned. They had, in fact, not only learned the Morse code, so that they could “listen in” when the doctor was “picking up” an S. O. S. call from some ship in distress, but they had heard many a wireless message from some signal station, or from some out-going or in-coming sea craft.

At first it had seemed quite odd that although their little amateur apparatus could send messages only within a radius of five miles, it was able to receive them from a distance of over a thousand. They became so proficient in this click-clack language that they were soon sending aerograms, or wireless messages, to the camp across the Lake for the doctor. Sometimes, too, they sent messages to their scout friends, a privilege only accorded after the messages had been read by their Director, so as to avoid senseless talk or idle gossip.

As soon as the girls reached the little wooden table holding the wireless, Lillie and Edith instinctively drew back, feeling that as Nathalie was the one who had found the baby she had the prior right to send this call for help. Seating herself, Nathalie quickly adjusted the telephones over her ears and set to work. But to her surprise, as she pressed the wireless key on the detector to close the circuit, she heard no sharp crack, and saw no spark-gap. Again she tried with like result. “Why, what is the matter with it?” she questioned turning towards the girls in some trepidation.

“Let me try,” pleaded Lillie. But alas, she met with no better luck than Nathalie, although she tried one experiment after the other. “I think it is the strangest thing,” she commented staring helplessly before her; “what can be the matter with the thing anyway?”

But Edith, who had dropped down on her hands and knees to examine the battery under the wooden board, now rose to her feet crying, “There is nothing the matter with the condenser, it must be that the aerial wires are not right!”

As the girl made this announcement there was an ominous silence as they stared with distressed, worried faces at one another. “Oh, what can we do?” lamented Nathalie, “could we—”

“I know what we can do,” said Lillie suddenly; “we can row across the Lake to the camp!”