THOROUGHLY alert now, Judy awakened her tent mates, warning them of the danger.

“What’s this?” mumbled Ardeth, drugged by sleep and unwilling to leave her comfortable cot.

“Get out of here fast, unless you want to be burned!” Judy said tersely, giving her a hard shake. “The forest is on fire!”

The other Beaver Patrol Scouts who shared the tent, already were out of bed and dressing with frenzied haste. Judy pulled on her own clothes, aware that more and more smoke was swirling about the canvas shelter.

Once outside, she saw the source of the fire. Heavy black smoke was billowing toward the camp from the woods where duff and debris were ablaze.

Judy’s first moment of relief that camp buildings and tents were intact, gave way to concern. The surface fire was dangerously close. Fed by a light but steady wind, the flames were moving toward the camp with amazing speed!

As she started for the adjoining tents to awaken the girls there, a gong in the main dining room sounded the first alarm. Bong! Bong! Bong!

Tent flaps went apart, and sleep-eyed Scouts began to thrust tousled heads out into the cold night air.

“What’s up?” demanded Beverly, one of the first Beaver Patrol girls to scramble into her clothes. “Is the camp afire?”

“Not yet, but it will be if we don’t work fast!” Judy asserted. “Oh!”

She uttered a little scream as a flying brand, borne by the wind, dropped in the grass only a few feet away.

Badly frightened, she and Beverly ran to stamp out the tiny flames.

By this time, the camp was in confusion. Scouts were pouring out of their tents, milling about, chattering excitedly.

Unit leaders quickly gained control of the situation, ordering everyone to the main lodge assembly room.

Miss Lubell spoke tersely to the girls.

“Now there is no cause for alarm,” she advised everyone. “The fire is very close to our camp, and the wind is in this direction, but rangers are on their way here. I notified them by telephone. The fire already had been spotted from the observation tower.”

“Will we have to evacuate the camp?” inquired Miss Ward.

“That depends entirely upon whether or not the fire quickly can be brought under control,” the camp director replied. “So far, it is not wide-spread, but the head is moving in this direction.”

“Can’t we do anything until the rangers come?” Judy interposed.

“We can,” Miss Lubell said. “We can’t hope to fight the fire, but we can take steps to keep it under control. Each unit is to report to its leader and follow her orders. We’ll wet down the tents and the buildings to protect them from flying sparks. Then we’ll make a fire break by clearing a ditch ahead of the spreading flames!”

Pouring out of the assembly hall, the Beaver Patrol Scouts clustered about their unit leader and Miss Ward. Under direction, they carried buckets of water from the lake, dousing the walls of their tents thoroughly.

To be prepared for a quick evacuation, in the event one was ordered, they hastily tossed their belongings into suitcases.

This done, they raced to the edge of the camp, to assist counselors, who frantically had started to dig a shallow trench or fire break.

Using garden hoes, rakes, spades and other implements at hand, the Scouts rapidly cleared a band several feet wide between the camp and the spreading ground fire.

A few sparks were flying, but those which dropped in dry grass, instantly were extinguished by a unit assigned to that particular task. By this time, the wind had spread the fire into an elliptical shape. Inexorably, it crept nearer and nearer the trench the girls were digging.

“It’s going to be nip and tuck to save the camp,” Miss Lubell gasped. “Don’t give up, girls!”

Against the flames, trees were silhouetted as dark, towering shapes. The sight was a terrifying one. But even though they could feel the heat in their faces, the Scouts kept doggedly at work.

Then suddenly a cry went up.

“The rangers!” cried a Lone Tree Scout. “They’ve come!”

Judy drew a deep, tired sigh of relief as she saw the Forest Service truck roll in with fire-fighting equipment.

“Our job is done now,” Miss Lubell said, wiping a smudge from her cheek. “We’ll let the men take over. Everyone report in the assembly room.”

The Scouts all checked in, and after washing up, watched the crew of rangers attack the fire.

A tractor widened and completed the ditch started by the Scouts. This task accomplished, rangers beat out some of the flames which had jumped the “break,” and hooked up a power pump.

Sleep was out of the question for the excited Scouts. They kept in orderly groups, but remained at the assembly room windows, watching every phase of the efficient fire fighting work.

The Beaver Patrol girls, those of the Lone Tree unit, and the Oriole outfit, volunteered to help in the kitchen. Gallons of coffee were prepared for the rangers.

“We’ve made enough for an army of workers!” Judy laughed.

The beverage was kept hot, ready to serve whenever a tired fire fighter could leave his post.

By four o’clock, the rangers announced that the fire finally was under complete control. Relaxing a bit from their arduous labors, the men took turns dropping around at the kitchen for coffee and a sandwich.

Arthur Wentz, one of the first rangers to come, praised the Scouts warmly for their well organized efforts prior to the arrival of the forest service truck.

“This could have been a bad fire,” he remarked. “There are three types—surface, ground and crown. But all start as surface fires.”

Judy asked the ranger to distinguish between the different classifications.

“Surface fires, as the name implies, burn only the loose debris on top of the ground,” he explained. “That’s the type of thing we encountered here. Sometimes, the fire eats down into the layer of undecomposed material on the forest floor, and then you have a ground fire. The most difficult of all are those which spread into the trees, or the crown fires.”

“How do you suppose this one started?” Miss Ward asked the ranger.

“That’s hard to say,” he replied. Lowell Diethelm, the ranger Judy had met in the village the previous evening, now tramped into the kitchen. He had overheard Miss Ward’s question and the reply.

“It’s plain enough how the fire started,” he commented, pouring himself a mug of coffee.

“How?” Judy asked.

“Someone from this camp has been careless about fire.”

A stunned silence followed the observation. Then, almost as a unit, the Girl Scouts began to protest.

“I don’t think that’s fair to say!” exclaimed Kathleen indignantly. “Do you have any proof that the fire was started by anyone in this camp?”

“No proof,” the ranger admitted. “Just circumstantial evidence. You girls had a cook-out last night?”

“We started a fire at Fountain Falls,” Judy said. “You knew about that. We put it out too!”

“Anyway, that’s miles from here!” Betty Bashe broke in. “This fire started close to our camp.”

“Exactly my point,” replied Diethelm. “Any other cook-outs last night?”

“Our unit had one,” spoke up a Scout from the Lone Tree patrol. “We were accompanied by our leaders though, and built our fire on a rock. Every spark was extinguished before we left the spot.”

“That’s what you thought,” Diethelm said, none too pleasantly. “I’m not saying the Scouts started this fire, but I do say, it looks rather suspicious. If the fire hadn’t been reported so quickly, the entire camp might have burned.”

“That’s for sure,” agreed Arthur Wentz. “But I think you’re being unjust to the girls, Lowell. The fire may have been started by a carelessly dropped cigarette or a match. Or it could have been deliberately set.”

“What’s that?” Diethelm demanded, startled.

“Just a little thought I had,” Wentz replied with an odd smile.

Diethelm seemed to have been made uncomfortable by the remark and pursued the subject no further. He gulped down his coffee and soon left the kitchen.

“Don’t take what he said too seriously,” Wentz told the Scouts. “This camp has a good record. No one knows how the fire started.”

“I can assure you that it was not touched off by any of our girls,” asserted Miss Lubell firmly. “We’ve taken every precaution against fire.”

Although heavy smoke still hung over the camp area, the flames no longer were spreading. A ranger was assigned to remain behind to watch the smoldering debris. The others loaded their truck and presently drove away.

Worn out by their strenuous activities, the Scouts returned to their cots to try to snatch a few winks of sleep before dawn. Their eyes smarted, but tired as they were, they were too excited to relax. Most of the girls were relieved when the gong sounded as a signal for them to dress again and assemble for breakfast.

Great quantities of hot chocolate, scrambled eggs, toast and fruit, brought cheer to the Scouts. Nevertheless, the main topic at the table was the unjust accusation which Lowell Diethelm had leveled at the organization.

“I’ve never liked that ranger,” Judy remarked to Virginia, who sat beside her. “I guess it’s mean to say, because a Girl Scout should try to like folks, but there’s something about him—”

“I know what you mean,” nodded Virginia, reaching for another piece of toast. “He doesn’t seem friendly as the other rangers do.”

“I can’t get over what happened today about that trucker,” Judy went on, thinking aloud. “Suppose I was right, and Diethelm was mistaken—”

She broke off then, for Miss Ward had come into the dining hall, and was signaling to her.

“Judy, you’re wanted at the telephone,” the teacher called. “Your aunt, I think.”

Judy went quickly to Miss Lubell’s office. The call must be important, she reasoned, else her aunt would not have phoned at such an early morning hour. She was afraid Aunt Mattie had learned of the fire and was alarmed for her safety. Either that, or the ghost of Calico Cottage had put in another appearance!

As she took down the receiver, her first fears were confirmed. Miss Meadows was in a great state of agitation, having been informed that a fire was raging at Pine Cone Camp.

“It was only a little fire, and it never reached our camp,” Judy explained patiently. “Now don’t worry one tiny bit, Aunt Mattie! Everything is all right here.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Miss Meadows sighed. “I confess, I’ve spent a dreadful night.”

“No more disturbances, I hope.”

“It depends upon what you mean by disturbances,” Miss Meadows returned stiffly. “There were no weird sounds from the basement. But other things happened.”

“What sort of things?”

“I can’t tell you over the telephone,” Miss Meadows answered. “Just come as quickly as you can to the cottage!”

And with that, she hung up the receiver.