At six o’clock they were awakened by a long, melodious trumpet call. The vigorous tripping melody drove the sleep from their brains like a dash of cold water. Billie found herself sitting up in bed humming:

“‘Oh, come to the stable,
As soon as you’re able
And feed the horses grain.
If you don’t do it
The Captain will know it
And raise particular Cain.’”

It was an energetic summons to rise and view a fresh and beautiful world, and Billie, glancing at her watch, was aware that, as a concession to new arrivals, the summons had come half an hour later than scheduled. Half-past five was to be the hour for rising in camp, provided the ladies were willing. And certainly they showed no signs of unwillingness at the six o’clock call. Miss Campbell glanced placidly down the line of white cots. Then she inhaled a breath of the delicious air.

“In all my life I never slept as I did last night,” she announced. “Did somebody put sleeping drops in my coffee, I wonder?”

“I fancy the sleeping drops fell in the night in the form of showers,” observed Mary from her cot at the end of the line. “There was no storm, just one of those quiet steady rains, and I never saw people sleep so hard. I thought you were all dead until I heard Miss Campbell——” Mary paused and blushed. “That is, until I heard some one breathing very heavily.”

“Now, Mary Price, don’t tell me you heard me snore. I never did such a thing in my life,” cried Miss Campbell.With a laugh, Billie leapt from her bed and ran to take a cold plunge in the mountain water which gurgled from the faucet with the pleasant song it had not left off singing when it leaped out of the side of the rock into the pipe.

At seven o’clock came the clarion call for breakfast: inviting and persuasive it was, with a lingering last note that fell softly on the ear and gradually died into discreet silence.

“Mr. Lupo blows the horn with so much expression,” said Elinor. “I really think he must have had long experience in summoning people to breakfast who were never ready. He’ll be giving ‘Weber’s Invitation to the Dance’ for dinner, I suppose.”

They had finished their morning toilets in the locker room, and were about to go downstairs when something tapped against one of the bamboo blinds. Billie promptly drew it up and looked into the clearing below.

“Who’s tapping at our chamber door?” she demanded.

A long fishing pole on which dangled five little nosegays made of ferns and grasses and wild asters was thrust at her. “Why, Algernon Percival,” she called. “I never dreamed you were so energetic.”

“Not guilty,” answered that young man’s voice from the lower porch. “When the bugle sounded just now, I was taking a shower bath. I’m still busy, but it doesn’t take long to get into camping clothes. Who is the only person we know who would get up at dawn and go tramping off for wild flowers?”

A tall, lanky figure stepped out from the shadow of the gallery and lifted his handsome, thoughtful face up to the girls leaning over the railing.“Why, it’s Ben Austen,” they cried. “Dear old Ben, when did you come?”

“Last night at ten o’clock,” he answered. “The ’bus wouldn’t come up from the village at that hour, so I walked. It was great. How are all of you?” he added, wiggling the nosegays in front of their noses.

“We’re as fine as silk,” answered Billie, with a happy laugh. “And it’s such fun that you and Percy are here. Papa kept it a secret so as to surprise us, I suppose.”

“I hope it’s a pleasant surprise.”

“The jolliest kind,” they cried, running downstairs at the second call to breakfast.

Those of you who have read the first volume of this series, “The Motor Maids’ School Days,” will recall Percy St. Clair and Ben Austen, two West Haven boys who were great friends of the girls during that winter when Billie Campbell and her red car first made their appearance in the town. Percy, in the transition from boyhood to manhood, has changed very little. He is of medium height, and his handsome fair face still flushes like a schoolgirl’s, to his great annoyance. Ben, at nineteen, is six feet tall. His face has developed since we knew him some years ago. His features are large and regular, his dark eyes filled with serious intent, and a mop of curly black hair covers his head like a thick cap.

Downstairs they found Mr. Campbell pouring for himself a cup of coffee. The camp table was never to be set for breakfast, but the dishes were to be piled at one end and the food at the other, and each camper was to help himself to what he chose. There was a good deal of laughing and scrambling at this morning meal. It started everybody off in a good humor, and in time it became the hour for jokes and absurdities that will never die out as long as there are boys and girls enough to keep them alive.

After they had disposed of quantities of very good food, at least it seemed good to mountain appetites, Mr. Campbell took a sheet of letter paper from his pocket and rapped for quiet.

“Young people, I want to read you a few rules which must be obeyed if camp is to be run on a military basis, the only way a camp can be successfully conducted. Here they are:

“‘RULES FOR SUNRISE CAMP.

Miss Campbell bowed her head in acknowledgment of the honor.

“‘Sub-rules for Women Members.

“Dear me,” interrupted Billie, “aren’t there any laws for the men to follow? These are all against women.”

“They are merely for your protection, my dear.”

“That’s what the men always say when they begin to trample on women’s rights,” declared Billie.

“All right, Miss Suffragette, just wait a minute. There’ll be a few for the men.

“‘Sub-rules for Women Members—Continued.

“‘Hobble skirts are forbidden.’” Mr. Campbell gave a jovial wink and glanced at Nancy.“‘Any individual who introduces a Parisian Alpine climbing suit into camp must pay the penalty by being made to climb a mountain in it.’”

“Now, you know that’s not on the list. You’re making it up,” exclaimed Nancy, blushing.

“‘The tail feather of a pheasant is not recommended as trimming for a camp hat,’” he went on blandly.

“‘No woman member is permitted to wear a lavender silk polonaise with lace ruffles.’”

“Polonaise?” cried Miss Campbell. “What on earth are you talking about, Duncan? Do you mean negligÉe?”

“Oh, excuse my ignorance. I thought it was called polonaise,” he answered humbly.

“Polonaise,” exclaimed the little lady, amid a wild whoop of laughter. “It’s a good thing you brought your daughter to a woman member to have her education finished. Goodness me!”

“Dearest Papa,” said Billie, kissing him, “don’t you wear negligÉe shirts most all the time? It’s the same thing.”“I thought all ladies wore polonaises,” insisted Mr. Campbell. “It certainly was the fashion in my youth, at any rate.”

“Fashions change with the times and manners, my boy,” said Miss Campbell. “But do give us the rules for the men of this household before you forget it.”

“‘Sub-rules for Men Members.

“‘Men are required to look after the wants of the ladies and see that they obey their set of rules to the letter.’”

“And is that all?” demanded the women members with a great show of indignation. “Why, we have no rights at all and they have everything!”

“No indeed, children,” answered Mr. Campbell. “When a man is required to look after the wants of five ladies, he at once gives up all rights of his own and becomes a slave. There is no need of making any more rules for the men, but there is one more rule for general obedience.“‘All questions and disputes arising shall be settled by Helen Eustace Campbell, Captain of Sunrise Camp.’”

“Three cheers for Captain Campbell,” cried Percy.

Miss Campbell rose and lifted her little crinkled hand for silence.

“I accept the responsibility of Sunrise Camp,” she said, “under the conditions I am about to state: that I am not asked to go canoeing in one of those tippy little boats without seats; that I am not persuaded against my better judgment to climb to the top of a mountain, for I simply won’t, I tell you beforehand; and that nothing shall interfere with my afternoon nap.”

“I am sure that these mild requests will be agreeable to all concerned,” said Mr. Campbell. “Will the company state objections, if any?”

There was a dead silence.

“Captain Campbell, consider yourself installed as absolute ruler in this camp.”“Papa, why be so businesslike?” asked Billie.

“Because there must always be a certain amount of system in a camp or it won’t run. I’ve lived in camp so much more than in houses that I know, and since I can’t be with you until later, I think it wise to get things started in this way before I go——”

“The car is ready, sir,” said the village chauffeur at the door.

The Motor Maids had begun to learn by this time that it was invariably Mr. Campbell’s way to leave his guests in a cheerful frame of mind, and they all knew perfectly well that “Rules for Sunrise Camp” had been prepared chiefly for Billie’s sake, that she would be still laughing when her father kissed her good-by and still smiling when he turned to wave his hat for the last time. She had been very homesick for him lately during his absences from West Haven, perhaps because she had been run down in health and tired out. And to-day, in spite of all the laughing and joking, her eyes filled with tears as she watched the car creep down the mountain road to the valley.

For a little while the camp seemed lonely and remote.

“The truth is,” thought Mary, wandering down the path to look at the view, “Mr. Campbell is so splendid that when he goes away he always leaves a big empty space that doesn’t seem to fill up. And Billie is just like him. Nobody ever could fill the emptiness she would leave.”

As if drawn by these loyal and devoted thoughts, Billie had followed Mary, and the two girls stood with clasped hands watching the distant motor, now a black speck in the valley.

“Dearest, dearest Papa,” exclaimed Billie under her breath, as the tears welled into her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

Mary pressed close to her side with silent sympathy.Presently Billie wiped her eyes and began to smile.

“Don’t tell on me, Mary dear. I’m just like a foolish little girl. But I do love Papa so, and sometimes I can’t bear to have him leave me. Then I wish I had been born his twin brother and we never could be separated.”

Mary was about to dispute this argument on the grounds that marriage would have separated them, when they noticed coming up the steep road a small bony horse drawing a little cart. A girl was walking at one side, holding the reins. She wore a broad-brimmed jimmy hat and an old gingham dress faded to a soft mellowed pink. The two girls watched her with admiration as she swung along the road, swaying slightly at the waist like one who had adopted the easiest way of walking up hill. They were so intent upon her that they hardly noticed the blackberries and vegetables in the back of the cart.Presently the girl paused and turned her beautiful dark blue eyes on them without any embarrassment.

“Want to buy any vegetables?” she asked.

“Perhaps they will up at the camp,” said Billie. “Ask Mrs. Lupo.”

The mountain girl looked at her strangely and shook her head.

“Do you know Mrs. Lupo?” asked Billie.

“Yes, but I will not ask her.”

“Very well, I’ll buy something myself. What have you got?”

“Blackberries, onions and beets.”

Billie bought a pail of berries.

“You had better come up to the camp and let me empty them,” she said.

“Keep the pail,” answered the mountain girl, and swung on up the road, flicking the little old horse with a long switch.

Billie and Mary followed with the berries, which they presently left in the kitchen where Mrs. Lupo was working.“I bought these from a mountain girl, Mrs. Lupo,” said Billie.

The woman went on working without looking up. Billie repeated what she had said. There was still no answer, and the girls went out of the kitchen somewhat disconcerted.

“She’s a queer, shy creature,” said Billie, and thought no more about it.