“Yes, that is the only thing we can do,” said Nathalie quickly, “but suppose the doctor is not there! You know the boys said they were going on a two or three days’ tramp this week.”

“Well, I’ll tell you how we can settle that problem and make sure,” replied Lillie, whose mind acted quickly. “Suppose we row over while Edith goes on her wheel to Mrs. Hansen’s and telephones to Boonton.”

“What, go all that distance alone in the dark?” protested the Sport in an appalled tone, “and then I don’t know what doctor to telephone to!”

“What, Edith, do you want us to think that you are really afraid?” laughed Lillie; “you, the girl who has never shown the white feather at any dare? Why, I—”

But Nathalie’s cheery voice, like oil on troubled waters, interposed quickly, “Of course she is not afraid, but it is an unpleasant thing to do to ride that distance alone at night. But we can’t take chances, and we must have a doctor. And as to the one you telephone to, Edith,” she cried, turning to that young lady, whose face had brightened somewhat, “call Dr. McGill, he’s the little white-haired doctor who called on Dr. Morrow the other day. He lives at Boonton.”

Without another protest Edith turned, and after running back to the cheer fire circle to inform Helen what the girls were going to do, she hurried after her wheel. A few minutes later, with the lantern fastened to the front of it, flickering like a firefly as she sped through the woods, she was on her way to the farm to telephone.

Lillie and Nathalie had hurried down to the boathouse, and in a flash of time had unfastened one of the row boats. Springing quickly in, they were soon out some distance from shore, rowing as rapidly as they could towards the opposite bank. It was a weird night, the sky seemed hung with heavy black curtains, the only light being that from the moon, as at rare intervals she darted swiftly through some opening between the clouds, or betrayed her presence by streaks of foamy silver on the edge of some unusually inky cloud.

But the path across the Lake was a familiar one, and ten minutes later the girls reached the opposite shores. “Why, it looks as if there wasn’t a soul about,” exclaimed Lillie, as, after drawing in their oars, the two girls stood up in the boat and peered anxiously through the bit of woodland that led to the camp, whose signal lantern glimmered dimly through the foliage of the trees.

“I guess you’re right, Nathalie, the boys must be on a tramp,” said Lillie after several loud “Hellos!” the only reply to which had been a faint echo from across the Lake.

Putting her fingers to her mouth Lillie emitted several sharp whistles, but still no sign of life! “Huh, it looks as if it was a case of Goldsmith’s ‘Deserted Village,’” she soliloquized dismally, but Nathalie was busy giving the Pioneer yell. This evoked such a strange medley of echoing sounds that the girls burst out laughing.

Nathalie’s face soon sobered, however, as she exclaimed dolefully, “O dear, it does seem as if we were destined to have bad luck. I wonder if they could have gone to bed!” burst from her in sudden thought.

“If they have, we’ll soon rout them out,” declared Lillie, jumping on the bank. “Come on, let’s drag the boat up and then hike to camp.”

After slipping on pine needles, stumbling over gnarled roots and blackened stumps, they finally found the path, devoutly thankful that the moon had at last emerged from behind the clouds. Indeed, as they stepped from the shadows of the woods and stood on the campus—as the scouts called the level space in front of the tents—the moon was shining with a brightness that equalled the day.

As the girls’ eyes traveled from the pots on the top pole suspended over what had once been a camp fire to the rows of tents, whose open flaps revealed that they were tenantless, Lillie uttered a sudden cry of delighted surprise!

The next moment she had shot across the campus, for she had spied a white paper fastened to one of the larger tents, directly under the glare of the lantern above the door.

“Hurrah! we’re in luck,” she cried, wildly jubilant, pointing to the white paper as Nathalie reached her side. “Read that!” The girl stepped closer and slowly deciphered from the big black letters in charcoal print:

“But that does not help us any!” Nathalie said when she finished reading the notice, her face losing its eagerness as she faced her companion.

“Indeed it does, goosie,” replied Lillie stoutly, “for the doctor has a wireless. So have the scouts at Boonton, for I heard one of the boys tell of a message one of them had picked up the other night, the night we had that awful thunder storm, don’t you remember? So don’t say we’re not lucky, Nathalie Page, after finding that note. I’ll warrant you, though, that some of the scouts did go on a tramp, and that the doctor left that word in case they returned before he did. But let’s look for that wireless!”

Surmising that the tent with the note pinned on the flap must be Dr. Homer’s, the girls hastened in, and by the light from the lantern which Nathalie had taken from the pole by standing on a couple of soap-boxes she had found, it was soon discovered on a roughly-hewn table in a corner of the tent.

This time the wireless key did its work; there was a sharp crack, the amateur wireless operator had clicked off the R. Z., the camp’s private call, and then with palpitating heart and expectant eyes sat waiting to see if it had been picked up. Suddenly her face broke into a smile, for as she “listened in,” she caught the wireless O. K. G. (go ahead). She went ahead, and in a few moments had made the operator at the Patrol rooms understand that Dr. Homer was wanted. There was a moment’s delay, and then the doctor himself was sending a message through the air. It took but a short space of time for Nathalie to click off why he was wanted, and how the girls had come to wire him from the scout camp.

“Now let’s make tracks for home,” said Lillie as Nathalie hung up the lantern on the pole again. “I am afraid it may rain, for I thought I heard thunder.” But she must have been mistaken, for not a cloud disturbed the soft silver haze that guided them across the Lake to Camp Laff-a-Lot.

“Dear me,” ejaculated Nathalie an hour later as she and Helen were undressing for bed, “what a lot of things have happened in the two weeks we have been at camp! But how glad I am that Dr. Homer got here in time, and that the baby is all right.”

“Well, it ought to be, with two doctors on the job,” retorted Helen with her usual bluntness. “Isn’t that old Dr. McGill jolly?”

“Oh, yes, it was comical to see him look the baby over, and then declare that there was nothing for him to do but to look wise, as Dr. Homer had done all there was to be done. What a chummy confab they had too, after it was all over! He was so pleased to meet Dr. Homer, he said, for he had heard Dr. Morrow speak of him.”

“Well, one thing’s settled, Miss Blue Robin,” remarked Helen decidedly, “and that is that Miss Camphelia is not to have any more sweets. I half suspect that Carol tried to stuff her with a bite of green apple, for she looked frightened to death when she saw that she was ill. Dr. Homer said there had been too much mothering going on. I just knew it would come to this, the way—”

“Stop your scolding, Lady Fuss,” laughed Nathalie, “for it seems to me that I saw you trying to stuff the kiddie with a lollipop the other day. But, anyway, the rules have been posted, ‘No one to feed, or to handle Miss Camphelia without permission of the head nurse, Miss Ellen Carmichael!’ I’m dead for sleep, so good night!”

The camp presented an appearance of unusual activity, with flags and bunting rippling in the sunlit air, and girls, scouts, and village guests in a state of restless progression, for it was the Pioneer Sport Day. The girls were in a whirl as they flew hither and thither, seeing that everything was in readiness for the anticipated fun, the visitors curiously prying into the living arrangements of this girls’ camp, while the scouts impatiently tramped about, waiting for the sports to begin.

Ah, there was the bugle call, the signal for a rush down to the shores of the Lake to witness the aquatic feats of the young campers! “A ghostly dive,” read Fred Tyson slowly from an imposing little program, hand-printed in red, and tied to a birch-bark cover with sweet-grass. “I’d like to know—” but his query was cut short as the bugle again sounded to announce that the first race was to start.

Fred turned his eyes towards the pier and stared curiously at the little figure in a khaki suit with red tie and hat, standing so proudly erect on a small platform as the Pioneer announcer for the day. Could it be? Yes it was Miss Anita Van Vorst, with her knapsack so adroitly arranged that no one would have suspected she was the little humpback who had once only taken an outing when wheeled in a chair.

A sudden scurry from the boat-house of two ghostly figures, a quick rush up the plank leading to the barrel platform,—Peter’s diving-tower,—the spectral habiliments suddenly flung away to float with the tide, and two blue-suited forms had sped swiftly downward.

There was a splash, a shower of silvery spray, a few bubbles, and two heads were bobbing about like floating corks. The next minute Kitty and Edith were swimming swiftly back to the pier, Edith in the lead, and Kitty a close second amid the noisy hurrahs from their friends on the bank. Edith, of course, won the blue, and with a wave of her hand as an acknowledgment to the cheering audience darted quickly back to the boat-house.

A tennis match now followed, which proved to be Lillie and Jessie arrayed in tennis-suits seated in wooden tubs with tennis-rackets for paddles, paddling to the goal, an anchored raft some yards from shore. Lillie was the winner this time, and, amid a general laugh received her prize, a dime and pin, with radiant smiles from the bugler on the pier.

A pioneer race was engaged in by two Orioles, one in the costume of a colonial maiden of Plymouth town, while the other closely resembled pictures of that laggard in love, John Alden. The contestants swam to the raft where they attempted in double-quick time to divest themselves of their old-time clothes, the one, of course, who accomplished this feat first having the best chance to win the race.

But shoes would stick, strings would knot, and buttons wouldn’t unfasten. Nannie Plummer at last was free, and jumped back to the water. But alas, her bonnet still clung to her; no, not to her head, but to one of her feet, causing her audience to shout with merriment at her antics to rid herself of this obstacle, while Johnnie the slow was still making futile endeavors to rid herself of her undesirable trousers.

A Japanese race was applauded perhaps as much for its picturesqueness as for the skill displayed, as two daintily gowned figures,—one in a pink and one in a blue flowered kimono, with flowers and fans coquettishly arranged À la Japanese in their hair—with mincing steps hied themselves down to their boats. Here, each one holding an umbrella in one hand and a palm-leaf fan in the other, they paddled out to the stake boat.

“Gee whiz! I’d like to know how they make those fans work!” exclaimed Teddie Hart in puzzled tone, to the joy of a group of girls near by, who giggled unrestrainedly as they saw that they had succeeded in mystifying their scout friends. Perhaps Peter, if he had minded, could have explained that a flat board to which the fans were nailed did the work.

A Silver Race was composed of teams of two, rowing out to the raft and back, each girl holding a silver spoon in her mouth containing an egg. The winners were Nathalie and Edith, who reached shore with their eggs intact, while Lillie Bell and a Bob White raced back to land with streams of yellow dripping from their faces and clothes, the race rules requiring that each racer should return to the shore with what remained of the egg.

The Trail of the Lonesome Pine created yells of laughter, as Helen stepped gingerly along with bare feet on a peeled pine sapling suspended over the shallow water near the shore. It was greased, of course, but the red apple at its end proved an incentive as the girl slipped cautiously towards it. Hurrah, she was almost there! Hadn’t she practiced that feat for days? There was a sudden swerve to one side, the supple figure tottered, and then Miss Helen plunged to her fate in the water below. But she only laughed with the spectators as she wrung out her skirts and scurried for the bank, while Barbara began her greasy career.

Surely she had rosin on her feet! No, she didn’t, for the next moment she too was clawing the air. She swayed for a minute like a reed in the wind, and then went down, not into the water, but on the pole where she gazed with a bewildered stare in her near-sighted eyes at the jeering little prize that had proved so elusive.

The first number of the land sports was a contest in the air, the performers walking on stilts while balancing potatoes on their heads. A tilting joust also took place, and helped to prove that the time the girls had spent in making and walking on the stilts had not been wasted.

The Up Against It Race, turned out to be an obstacle race, one of the obstacles being twelve eggs to be picked up from the ground and placed in a basket. The second obstacle was hailed with deafening shouts, for it was no other than Miss Camphelia sitting on the race-track contentedly sucking a lollipop. She was speedily seized by the contestant and arrayed in a coat and hat, while gazing with wondering eyes at this new red-faced mother. The girl who made the best time as an egg-picker and baby-dresser proved to be an Oriole, and was duly applauded for her speed and deftness.

In the Light that Failed contest the fair racers made a twenty-yard dash carrying lighted candles and pails of water, one in each hand, at the same time. All lights flickered out to be sure, but the one that lasted the longest won the contest for its holder.

A fifty-yard dash won by Edith now followed, while one of the Bob Whites broke the tape at a twenty-five yard dash. In a Ring the Bell competition the girls were divided into teams, the team having the greatest number of girls who threw a bean bag through a barrel-hoop with a bell hung in its center without touching the bell were the jubilant ones.

Lillie and Edith now gave an exhibition of wigwagging, using the Myers code, in which nearly all the girls were proficient. Lillie, to her delight, showed the most proficiency, although Edith had generally been considered the greatest expert in this science. An Indian-club drill, and a nail-driving contest not only showed the scouts what their sisters could accomplish in the way of strength, and manual labor, but brought the sports for the day to a close.

By this time pangs of hunger began to assail the jolly campers, and Nita, with a strenuous toot of her horn, made known that a Grub Contest—a hike for supper packages hidden in the woods, among the rocks on the shore, or around the tents—would now take place. With much laughter and jesting the girls lined up opposite the boys, and at three blasts of the bugle they were off, flying in all directions, each one bent on searching some one particular locality that he or she had in mind. The fortunate ones were soon shouting hilariously; in fact even the slow ones were keener than usual in this supper hike, and soon bagged their game and cheered lustily as they returned to camp.

Every one now gathered around the dining-room table—appropriately decorated for the occasion—and was soon dulling appetite with the choice bits found in the packages that had been done up by the Pioneers but hidden by Mrs. Morrow and Mrs. Van Vorst.

As they frolicked over the supper it was voted that every one present contribute to the moment’s pleasure by telling a story, singing a song, asking a conundrum, and so on. A ball was passed to Helen who immediately told a funny story, and ended by tossing the ball to Nathalie, the rule being that the reciter was to throw the ball to any one he or she chose, which resulted in its being thrown to the more timid or lazy ones, thus causing surprise and laughter.

Nathalie made a rhyme impromptu, then tossed the ball to one of the boys, and so it kept going the rounds, not only bracing the timid or nervous ones, but revealing latent talent that had never been suspected.

Teddy Hart, who had played the knight to the announcer of the day, Miss Anita, spied her laughing at his antics when he was called to the front and mischievously tossed the ball to her. The smile died on the girl’s face and she gasped with a start of terror, but in a moment, with a defiant toss of her head, she started in and recited some funny verses so comically that she received an ovation of cheers and claps.

When Nathalie perceived this unexpected turn in the festivity, her heart went pit-a-pat in sympathy with Nita’s unexpected ordeal, but when she saw the upward toss of her head and the flash in her eyes, she knew the girl would prove game. Indeed, she had been proving game for the last ten days or more, for Helen’s plan of helping her to know the girls had succeeded so well that Nita had lost much of her supersensitiveness in regard to her deformity, by being made to forget it and by the kindliness and deference shown her by both girls and boys.

The intimacy that had come from tenting with the different Pioneers had not only shown her the need of correcting many of her own faults, but had revealed the good points of her associates. Many of the girls she had secretly vowed to Nathalie she would never care for, she had accepted as the best of friends.

From being deemed an aristocrat of whom the girls stood slightly in awe, thinking her proud and exclusive, she had proved to be most democratic, entirely devoid of the many airs and graces they feared. In fact she had become, as Nathalie said, a favorite with every one, and had nearly as many adorers as Miss Camphelia, who at that moment was having a most beautiful time eating bread and milk in the lap of Ellen, gurgling and winking with baby joy at the gay colors and lights that held her eye.

Supper over, the campers hurried to the cheer fire circle where a tall, uncouth-looking object covered with sheets towered specter-like in the center. Helen, mounting a small platform, announced that the campers had gathered to celebrate the burning of Miss Dummy, who represented the evil spirits that had run riot during their stay at camp.

An Oriole girl now came to the fore as chairman of the spirit committee, as it was called, and made known that a thorough investigation had brought to light many evil spirits that had dominated certain members of the camp at intervals, not only hindering the development of character, but causing discomfort and a few heartaches among their mates.

The evil spirits of grouchiness, shiftlessness, dishonesty, and selfishness, in a sense, had been tamed by the Pioneers’ laws and the flames from their cheer fire so that they had not caused much havoc, but there were a few evil ones not so familiar, perhaps, that had persisted in doing their evil work. The principal ones, she claimed, were forgetting each one’s own particular failing in the fun of ridiculing the faults and eccentricities of her mates, the disloyalty to one’s self by not trying to do one’s best, a habit of giggling when there was nothing to giggle at, a desire to shirk responsibility by letting the other one do work that was distasteful, and the weakness of letting one’s nerves get the better of one on certain occasions instead of getting the better of the nerves.

Of course this caused much laughter, although each girl recognized her own particular fault, and then and there secretly swore that she would subdue it or die in the attempt.

Helen now asked if there was any reason why the evil spirits just mentioned should not be disposed of for good and all. Receiving a shout that evidently meant a big “No!” she pulled a string, the ghostlike garments fell to the ground, and Miss Dummy stood revealed, an effigy arrayed in an old suit belonging to one of the Pioneers, even to the staff and knapsack, surmounting a pile of dried twigs and brush.

“Miss Dummy,” solemnly continued Helen, with as straight a face as she could muster as she confronted the ludicrous-looking evil one, who, with hat awry, huge red nose, and goggle-eyes, stared at her with a leer, “I consign to thee those evil spirits that have caused sorrow and heartaches among the members of Camp Laff-a-Lot, to be burned until thou art ashes, and then to be buried at the bottom of the lake to lie there forever!”

As she ended there was a sudden scurry forward as each Pioneer made one of a circle kneeling around Miss Dummy, and in an instant’s time had struck her match and applied it to one of the twigs which served as a pedestal for the evil one. As the firewood had been well oiled it caught quickly from the blue sputterings of so many matches, and yellow flames were soon shooting savagely upward to glow like strings of scarlet among the twigs and briers, causing them to snap and crackle hilariously. In a moment darting tongues were licking Miss Dummy’s red cheeks with fiery greed and floated upward to circle about in wreaths of white and black smoke.

Some of the unduly imaginative girls turned away, declaring that the effigy looked like some one of the girls in that suit in the reddened glare of the flames. But the rest joined hands with the scouts and leaped merrily about the blazing pyre, executing weird and strange gyrations, which they termed a fire dance, as a last farewell to their enemy, who finally, done to the death, tumbled to the ground a fiery mass of scarlet embers. A pail of water soon quenched the last of the spirits, when the ashes were gathered into a big pail and carried in a procession to the shores of the lake.

Here Helen, holding the pail carefully in her hand, stepped into a row-boat and was conveyed to the middle of the lake. By the light of the moon just peeping above the horizon she dropped the ashes of Miss Dummy into the placid water, and to the singing of a comic dirge, composed by one of the Orioles, was rowed silently back to shore.